#and everyone's like where's the muzzle. who had the muzzle last where did it go.

[wiseatom]

mike's the type of bitch who's like 🙄 idc idc! and then will gets a paper cut and suddenly he's screaming and shaking and crying with snot all over his face and he's throwing up so hard he feels like he's going to die and he's yelling at everyone to get will a bandaid instead of getting it himself while will just stands there with his bloody finger like 🤨. toxic gay behavior and we love to see it

[reiding-writing]

AHH YAYAYAYAYAY I LOVE THIS SERIES SM IM SO GLAD YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTSSSS!! okay sooooo, i was wondering if you could do a lil continuation of the last part where spencer visits reader in prison and reader’s all confused because they never get visitors and then they see it’s spencer and get all excited (maybe spencer comes to tell reader that he spoke to the court or wherever is considering their appeal, idk how that whole process works lmao, and he’s told them that he believes reader isn’t a threat and that they should be moved to a psychiatric facility instead of staying in prison)

AHH OKAY LUV U BYE 🫶🫶🫶

THE FIRST VISIT

spencer reid&gn!unsub!reader || 2.2k || bloodied roses event!!

WARNINGS: sociopathic!reader, prison guards being dicks, early-seasons!spencer

a/n — thank you mllll 🫶 glad you like the series <333

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ unsub!reader masterlist!!

It’s been almost eight months since you returned to the California Correctional Institution. Back to the familiar concrete walls of your own personal hell and practically sitting stationary as the world span around you.

It was arguably worse than just giving you the death penalty, forced to live in a stupidly awful state of limbo where you did nothing but languish in your own boredom for 23 hours a day without so much as a pen and a piece of paper to satiate you—lest you stab someone with it during your ‘recreational’ hour outside your cell.

The progress of your appeal was slow, basically static, and whilst you weren’t surprised, it was beginning to frustrate you. Why would they drag everything out when you knew they were just going to reject you anyway?

It was stupidly idiotic and a waste of everyone’s time, including yours.

There’s a sharp knock on the door of your cell, then someone slides open the metal hatch, leaving a grating sound in its wake.

“Hands.”

The borderline condescension in his tone makes you want to shove his tongue down his throat, but you know when to pick your battles, so you stick both of your hands through the slot palms up and wait for the familiar cold metal of handcuffs against your wrists.

They’re far too tight as they’re clamped shut, pinching your skin uncomfortably to the point where you’re sure it’ll leave marks, and you bite back the urge to curse out the guard his clear incompetence as he unlocks the door and pulls you out by the metal connecting your hands.

His expression matches his rashness as he forces you down the corridor with another guard to his side, and you swear that if you weren’t acting on your best behaviour for the minuscule chance that they did actually approve your appeal you would’ve given the two a piece of your mind already.

“Where are we going?”

No answer.

“Why am I out of my cell?”

“Shut up before I muzzle you.”

Oh the urge to punch that man in the face.

You settle for a side eye that would probably be the only thing the State Officials needed to reject your appeal knowing how much they despised you for existing, and the rest of the walk is finished in a thick blanket of silence.

The room they lead you into is technically two, lined by a thick pane of glass that splits the room in half, an uncomfortable looking metal chair and floating table with a rotary phone on either side.

“Sit down.”

A small flare of your nose is the only display of your rising anger, your paper-thin composure shrivelling millimetre by millimetre every second you’re forced to look at his stupid face.

You sit down with an air of curiosity. It was very clearly a visitation room you’d been led to, but who in their right mind would choose to visit you? Who had the leeway to get to visit you from inside one of the highest security prisions in the state when getting access to do so was almost impossible?

You just hoped it wasn’t someone from the appeal board. They were always so monotonous and boring.

You sit waiting for almost five minutes, watching the barred clock on the wall tick away until there’s a click from one of the exterior doors and then the door on the other side of the room opens.

And the vexation in your expression shifted into something much more resembling amusement.

The sounds of the chair being dragged out from the table is muffled through the glass, as is the sound of him sitting down, but when he picks up the phone on his table a sharp ringing echoes through the one on yours as a physical show of his presence.

You watch it ring for a few seconds before you turn your attention to the guard standing behind you, and you hold your wrists up towards him expectantly, watching the indignation rise in his face as reluctantly pulls out the keys to remove your handcuffs.

The freedom of your wrists is short-lived though, and almost immediately after you’re uncuffed, your dominant hand is dragged back down to the table to be cuffed against it, a loud thud emanating from it at the edge of your hand catches on its edge.

You’re less perturbed under the presence of your visitor, but you’re sure the seething anger is present enough in your eyes for the guard to see it nonetheless.

Regardless, with one hand free of restraint, you pick up the ringing phone and hold it to your ear, leaning back in your chair with an almost entertained expression.

“Doctor Reid, came all the way to California to visit little old me?”

There’s a small twitch in the corners of his mouth as he restrains himself from smiling at your tone.

He shouldn’t be smiling at a serial killer. Especially not inside a maximum security prison with four guards present.

“I told you I would,”

“That you did,” You give a small nod of acknowledgment against the phone at his statement, eyebrows raised ever so slightly to break the otherwise barren planes of your face. “Didn’t think you’d go through with it,”

“It wasn’t easy,” Spencer lets out a small breath of a laugh, pressing his lips together awkwardly. “There was a lot of paperwork involved,”

He’s mildly embarrassed by his confession, that he’d jumped through so many hoops to be able to visit you like he told you he would. That he’d flown across the country to see you whilst lying to the team that he was going to visit his mother.

“That’s a lot of effort,” There’s a small scrunch of your eyebrows at your response, not a show of sympathy for everything he’d done to be there in person but more of judgement that he’d put himself through it at all.

You hadn’t asked him to visit you. He told you he would, and followed through on it of his own fruition.

“I thought it’d be better to speak to you in person rather than over the phone,”

“You’re still speaking to me over a phone Dr Reid,” You jostle the phone in your hand slightly as a show of your point, and the small quirk of your mouth tells him that you’re joking with him.

“You know what I mean,” Spencer’s expression mirrors yours in the way he almost smiles, and he lets out a short breath of light-hearted exasperation. “I wanted to see you, not just hear you,”

“Well,” You make an outward gesture with your freehand as you lean against the back of your chair again, crossing one leg over the other. “You’re seeing me,”

That he is. You don’t look quite like you did when you joined the BAU on the case, a little paler, thinner, your hair is a little longer and there’s a notable number of bruises covering your arms.

He doesn’t need an eidetic memory to know where those have come from. Although the sound of your wrist hitting the edge of the table at the start of conversation would definitely be stapled into his mind for a while.

“So then, what constitutes a visit from you Dr Reid?”

“I wanted to talk to you about your appeal,”

Any and all whisper of minuscule enjoyment at Spencer’s presence evaporates from your face the minute the word ‘appeal’ comes out of his mouth. It’s honestly fascinating just how fast your demeanour changes, although he’s not sure why it would, surely your appeal would be something of interest to you, not something you actively don’t want to talk about.

“Seriously? You fly all the way over here and you want to talk about my appeal? You do realise this—” You gesture back and forth between the two of you, “—is the one hour I get out of my cell today right? I’m not going to spend it talking about the stupid appeal.”

Seemed like he’d hit a sore spot.

“I just wanted to say that it’s looking pretty good for you,” He cuts straight to the point, not wanting to ruffle you more than he unintentionally had but also wanting to make sure that the main reason for his visit in the first place— apart from the fact that you’d inhabited a corner of his brain for the last eight months and wouldn’t leave no matter how hard he tried—was actually aired out.

You let out a small scoff into the phone’s receiver, and it’s almost grating as it meets Spencer’s ears. “You don’t have to lie to me Dr Reid, I know they’re just dragging everything out until they can find a reason to reject it.”

“They have three weeks before the deadline for their decision, they won’t find anything,” There’s an air of confidence in Spencer’s assessment, but it doesn’t do anything in chipping away your preconceived notion of failure.

“I submitted a report on the BAU’s behalf,” He is decidedly less confident in admitting that second part, left hand subconsciously reaching towards the rolled up sleeve on his right arm to ease the nervous tension in his hands. “To try and support it through the final stages,”

“Leave your arm alone.” You seem to almost completely disregard what Spencer says, and he practically does the same himself as his eyes flicker down towards where his left hand is absentmindedly scratching at the inside of his right elbow, leaving red streaks on his skin.

He pulls his hand away with his lips pressed taut into a line, stuffing it into his pocket so he can’t be tempted to do it again. “Sorry,”

“What did you write in your report?” You’re over it before he can even get his apology out, and he clears his throat to regain his sense of composure, tightening his grip on the phone so it doesn’t slip out of his hand under the small film of sweat coating his palm.

“You uh— displayed a lot of your humanity on the case, especially towards your family, and I thought it’d be beneficial for the officials considering your transfer to know that fact,”

You let out a small exhale through your nose, lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. He could almost believe that you were grateful for his contribution, but then you started speaking and the condescension in your tone was enough to tell him that you were definitely not displaying ‘gratefulness’.

“That’s not gonna do jack shit,”

Spencer sighs softly, eyes flickering downwards for a second in ever so slight disappointment in your reaction to his attempt at helping you.

He doesn’t really know what he was expecting from you, but having you disregard it so easily definitely blew the wind out of his sails a little bit.

“You’d be surprised I think,” His attempt at redeeming himself isn’t the most thought through thing he’s ever done, but then again he’s sat in a maximum security prison talking to a serial killer, so arguably he’s done worse. “In cases like yours for ASPD, having someone as a witness of your humanity could really help out your chances,”

“Yeah we’ll see about that,” You don’t seem as frustrated with him as you do disbelieving. Like no matter what evidence he tried to provide you of your decently likely chance of actually getting a transfer you’d made it up in your mind that it was never going to happen.

“Do you… want the appeal to go through?”

You scoff. “What kind of question is that?”

”It’s just, you’ve decided that it’s not going to go through, don’t you— I don’t know, want it to?”

”Of course I do.”

“Then—” Spencer presses his lips together with a short sigh. “…have some faith, If not in me being able to help you then at least in yourself,”

There’s silence over the line for a few seconds, and Spencer can see the cogs turning in your brain as you decide how you want to respond.

You don’t get the chance to.

“That’s it. Ten minutes is over.”

The phone is practically snatched from your hands to be placed back on the receiver, and there’s a sharp end-dial on Spencer’s before he puts his own phone down and readies himself to stand.

The roughness in the guards as the pull you from your seat and re-cuff you is almost aggressive, and the self-restraint you put on yourself to not respond to it is so decadently on display that it’s proof enough for him to believe your appeal will go through.

He hopes that your appeal goes through.

If for nothing else at least so you don’t get dragged around like a ragdoll by the people who are supposed to be reforming you.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | teen | 3.2k | tags: werewolf!Steve, Human!Eddie, hurt!Steve, Eddie taking care of Steve, minor characters death | @steddielovemonth prompt: Love is feeling safe by @novacorpsrecruit | AO3)

He runs for his life, his paws hitting the snowy ground with heavy thumps. His flank hurts where the bullet buried itself, but it's distant, drowned out by his instinct to survive. He can't afford to slow down, so he pushes through, letting his instincts carry him as fast as his legs will take him.

His pursuers are only human, not equipped to keep up with a nearly grown wolf. But he's hurt, and he's exhausted, and they have guns.

Part of him wonders why he's even trying to save himself.

They killed the whole village. His parents, his friends, his neighbors. They all burned to death, and those who managed to escape the flames were slaughtered by the hunters. All except him, who managed to escape through the secret tunnels beneath their home, while his parents stayed behind to fight off the invaders.

The Harringtons had been the alphas of their pack, and it was their responsibility to protect the pack with their lives.

None of them deserved to die. No one in their pack had ever hurt a human. They hardly ever saw one, choosing to live as far away from their settlements as possible while still being able to trade with them for the goods they couldn't produce.

It didn't matter to the hunters who came late at night and ambushed them in their sleep. In their eyes, they were monsters. His parents always warned him that humans would never understand them, would always fear them, and fear breeds hatred. Humans couldn't be trusted, they weren't safe.

Back when that meant he couldn't be friends with the daughter of the blacksmith his parents did business with, he refused to believe them. But now it seems that they were always right.

Humans are not to be trusted. They're not safe.

It feels like Steve has been running for hours and still he hears them following him, following his bloody trail. They're not even stealthy, branches snapping, shouts and the occasional gunshot. He's not sure how much longer he can keep going, the pain and exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He's so focused on listening to the hunters behind him that he doesn't really look where he's going, just runs and runs and runs.

Suddenly the world turns upside down, the pain in his flank flares up, white-hot, and then everything goes dark.

He comes to slowly, his senses catching up with reality one by one.

It's warm where he lies, the sharp smell of burning wood heavy in the air. Panic rises in his throat and he can't stop the whine falling from his muzzle, it must mean he didn't make it out after all, he's still trapped in the burning ruins of his home. He's going to die here, burned alive like everyone else he's known since he was a pup.

His ears pick up other sounds over the crackling of a nearby fire. Someone is here, Steve can smell them. Smell him. It's a human, a man. His scent is strong, clinging to the soft blanket Steve can feel beneath him. He's humming a familiar tune, his voice deep and melodic, and Steve can't believe he's about to die with the tune of a nursery rhyme stuck in his head.

Heavy footsteps are coming toward him, and Steve hasn't opened his eyes yet, but he thinks the guy is wearing heavy boots. It's winter, after all, and humans don't run as hot as wolves, completely unprotected from the harshness of the season.

His whole body aches, every limb is heavy, and exhaustion is trying to drag him under again. Steve knows he's in no condition to fight, that he won't last more than a few seconds before the human kills him, but he won't die without a fight. That's not who he is.

So when he feels the human stop in front of him and fall to his knees beside Steve's motionless body, Steve attacks.

Well, he tries. But his body won't cooperate, the pain makes him so dizzy that he almost loses consciousness as he tries to rise enough to sink his teeth into the human's soft flesh. He sinks back down, with pained whimpers he tries to suppress but can't.

"Shh, hey, it's okay, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise. I'm trying to help you, but you are gonna have to stay still and let me, okay?"

It doesn't make any sense, none of it, but he's so tired and the voice talking to him sounds so nice, warm and soothing. It makes him want to lie still and let it wash over him. With the last of his strength, he blinks his eyes open to look at the man who is about to end his life, no matter what his alluring voice promises.

The last thing Steve sees before the pain and exhaustion pulls him back under are the man's eyes. They were a rich, dark brown, like melted chocolate under a gentle heat. Their warmth held a soft depth, inviting and comforting, reminiscent of a cozy fireplace on a chilly evening. With each gaze, it was as if the soft flicker of candlelight danced within them, creating an aura of quiet reassurance.

The next time Steve is awake, he feels better. He's still weak, but the bone-deep exhaustion has eased. So has the pain, a dull ache rather than a white-hot agony that sets his nerves on fire. As he comes more and more to himself, his brain clearing the haze of sleep, he takes stock.

He's still alive.

He's still surrounded by the scent of the man who found him.

He's comfortable, a soft surface and blankets beneath him.

He's starving.

As if he heard Steve's thoughts - or more likely his growling stomach - Steve hears the man approaching again. Opening his eyes blearily, Steve sees him standing in the doorway with a plate in his hand, and the smell that hits Steve's nose makes his empty stomach cramp with hunger, and saliva floods his mouth. Roasted chicken, Steve's favorite.

"Look who's awake," the man says, and Steve wonders if he knows who Steve is or if he's one of those guys who talks to animals. He really hopes it's the latter, because that makes his chances of survival at least a little better.

The man takes another two steps towards him, but then stops and looks at him cautiously.

"Okay, last time didn't go so well, huh?" He asks, but Steve thinks it's more rhetorical. "I've got food for you, so please don't bite me? God, it's a good thing Wayne isn't here or he'd think I'd finally lost it, talking to a wolf."

Shaking his head, the man comes closer and Steve takes in his appearance. He doesn't look particularly dangerous, rather slender with dark curls and a pale complexion. He doesn't carry any weapons, but he does have an ugly scar on his face. It must have been a deep cut, and it runs in a jagged line across his cheek.

Steve tries to lift his head when the man is close enough to strike, but he only manages a few inches before sinking back down with a soft whine.

"Hey, hey, hey, you shouldn't move yet, sweetheart. It's a miracle nothing's broken, as far as I can tell, but that bullet really did a number on you, almost like it was poisoned. Bastards to do this to another being."

Silver bullet, Steve thinks. That explains the intense pain and weakness.

Then he forgets all about it the moment the smell of the chicken intensifies as the man reaches out to Steve's muzzle with a large chunk of meat between his fingers. The man, if you can call him that, probably about Steve's age, looks terrified as he does so, but he doesn't stop until Steve can close his teeth around the meat and pull it into his mouth. When the meat is gone, Steve chewing happily and the guy still in possession of all five fingers, his host breathes a sigh of relief.

"Shit, man, that was scary," the man laughs, his dimples popping. He beams at Steve as he hands him another large chunk of chicken.

This human is so weird, Steve thinks. Talking to a wolf like it's a human, chastising hunters for wounding it with what he thinks is a poisoned bullet. Feeding it its own rations by hand, during a harsh winter, no less.

Whatever plan is behind this: Steve doesn't understand it. But he's too weak to think much about it, because as soon as the plate is empty and his stomach comfortably full, Steve sinks back under.

He dreams of soft hands stroking his fur, and of someone softly singing to him the lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was a pup and woke up from a nightmare.

It becomes routine as Steve's body fights off the effects of the silver bullet.

The man, whose name was Eddie, as Steve learned during one of the many times he was sort of talking to himself, fed him meat by hand, and sometimes broth and potatoes. Every two days he would also dress his wound, always clicking his tongue at the state of it and muttering about asshole hunters.

Eddie always talked while tending to Steve, at first telling him how his body was healing and what Eddie was doing to help him. But after a while, he began to tell Steve about his days and his chores, regaling Steve with tales of his adventures while gathering firewood or preparing meals for them. It was surprisingly comforting to listen to Eddie talk, his stories always funny and dramatic, with a hint of self-deprecation.

It didn't make sense to Steve why Eddie was doing all this until one night he started talking about his uncle, who had gone to the city to find work to better support them and hadn't been home in months.

It was then that Steve realized that Eddie was lonely.

He'd been alone in that cabin in the middle of the woods for months until he found Steve lying in a ravine and carried him home.

Steve was the closest thing Eddie had to a companion in months.

Knowing that eased some of the apprehension he felt toward Eddie, because it seemed that as long as the man didn't know that Steve wasn't an ordinary wolf, he didn't have to be afraid of him.

Three weeks after Steve first woke up in Eddie's cabin, he manages to get up on weak legs and take a few tentative steps before collapsing again.

Eddie is there to catch him and by then his hands are welcome on Steve's body.

They are always gentle with Steve, stroking his fur and snout, scratching behind his ears just right. Eddie touches him all the time now, and Steve has no idea how he feels about it.

That's not entirely true, he has an inkling of what the warmth means that spreads through his body when Eddie lies down behind him on the mattress he'd put in front of the fireplace so Steve would be warm while he healed. Every night, Eddie would bury his face in Steve's fur right at his neck, a vulnerable place only close members of a pack were ever allowed to put their snouts, and stroke Steve's side and belly with gentle hands until they both drifted off to sleep.

Everything smelled of Eddie. Steve smelled of Eddie.

And Eddie had begun to smell of Steve.

It made his inner wolf purr with satisfaction, and that was such a phenomenally bad idea.

That's why Steve is trying to get back on his feet as quickly as possible, so he can leave before these feelings that have started to grow in his heart get any worse.

Eddie is human.

Humans are not to be trusted. They are not safe.

But Eddie feels safe.

Worse, he is starting to feel a lot like mate, and Eddie has no idea what that even means.

"Careful, Koda. You're still healing. There's no rush, y'know. You can stay here as long as you want, okay? This is your home now, too."

Steve whines softly at the ache in Eddie's voice and licks his neck and face to comfort him. The wet tongue probably tickles because it makes Eddie laugh, and he buries his face in the thick fur at the front of Steve's neck.

And Steve just lets him, lets him press his mouth against his throat while he nuzzles behind Eddie's ear and breathes in his scent.

Steve is fucked.

It all comes to a head a few weeks later.

Steve is now back on his feet and uses his new mobility to follow Eddie around and keep him company while he does his chores, often dozing next to him while he cooks or chops wood or sorts through their rapidly dwindling supplies. Soon Eddie will have to go hunting to keep them stocked with meat, and Eddie hates the thought. He doesn't want to hurt another creature.

That's why Steve decides to go hunting for his human. He can provide for him.

A week later, he leaves in the middle of the night, carefully slipping out of Eddie's arms around him and trotting through the little door that Eddie built into his door so that Steve could relieve himself whenever he needed to.

It goes better than Steve expected, his muscles still not back to where they used to be, but stronger and faster than he would have thought after weeks of lying around. He follows the tracks of a deer for almost an hour before he finally finds it. The hunt itself is short, the wind comes from the right direction, and the deer clearly doesn't sense him until it's too late.

Steve kills it as quickly and painlessly as possible, sure that Eddie would want him to. He thinks he would do anything to make Eddie happy.

When Steve comes back from the woods, he's dragging the deer's body with his snout, wishing he could just shift back into his human body because it would be so much easier with his hands. But the shift takes a lot out of an already weakened body, and he can't risk it. In a few weeks it will be as easy as breathing again, he's sure of that, but right now it could be a serious setback in his recovery.

He can already see the cabin through the trees when he hears Eddie's voice calling for him. He sounds panicked and Steve immediately drops his prey to run to his mate.

Eddie is not even wearing a jacket, his breath coming out in clouds of condensed air as he stumbles through the glittering snow, calling for Koda.

He calls for his wolf with panicked tears in his voice and Steve barrels into him without a second's hesitation. Eddie falls to the ground, his arms full of Steve, his hands clutching Steve's fur as if he's afraid this is a dream and Steve will disappear again.

"Koda? Oh my God, where the hell have you been? I was worried sick. I thought you just disappeared." Eddie sits up, his arms never letting go of where they are wrapped around Steve, and Steve can smell the tears on his face. He carefully licks them away as more and more follow. "Please don't leave me, please, please, please," Eddie keeps begging him, his whole body shaking and Steve wants to shift so badly. He wants to take his mate in his arms and hold him, soothe his pain and fear and promise him that he'll never leave him.

So even though he knows better, he does.

One moment Eddie is holding a big, brown wolf in his arms, and the next he is holding a very human, very naked man in his lap.

If Steve wasn't scared to death of how Eddie will react, he would laugh at the high-pitched squeal Eddie lets out when he realizes what has happened.

"Hi," Steve says, waving at Eddie with fluttering fingers. Not his smoothest moment, but to be fair, this isn't how he usually approaches someone he's attracted to. For once he is usually wearing a lot more clothes.

"Uhhh, hi?" Eddie asks, stunned. "Who... Wait, not important right now. Where is my wolf? My Koda. I just got him back."

Steve is pretty sure that Eddie must be in shock and not thinking clearly, but it warms his heart how attached he is to Steve's wolf. He hopes he can get him to like his human side just as much.

Deciding it's best to just come clean with Eddie, Steve exclaims, "Tada," and does a very silly imitation of jazz hands.

Eddie just blinks at him with big eyes.

Okay, Plan B it is, Steve thinks. "I'm him. I'm Koda. Or, well, no, I'm Steve, but you couldn't know that. But, um, yeah, I'm your wolf?" Steve cringes at the your, but it's too late to take it back, and besides, he really wants to be Eddie's wolf.

He wants to be Eddie's everything.

"I knew it!"

Eddie's sudden outburst startles Steve so much that he almost falls off Eddie's lap before Eddie's arms tighten around him.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just... my mom told me about wolves that could turn into humans. She used to tell me stories about how they used to be the protectors of villages and towns, the friends and companions of humans, before some humans turned against them, jealous of the admiration and status they had with the villagers, and drove them away. Mama said that when a wolf chooses you as a mate, you are blessed for life. She always wanted to meet one of you."

Steve knows about Eddie's mother, another story he told Steve under the protective cover of night as they lay on their mattress, Steve's fur soaking up Eddie's tears as he talked about losing his mother when he was only ten.

"Aren't you afraid of me?" Steve still has to ask, his heart beating as fast as the wings of a bird taking flight.

Eddie looks at him as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Afraid of you? Koda... I mean, Stevie, can I call you Stevie?" at Steve's nod Eddie continues, "Are you going to hurt me?"

Now it's Steve's turn to look at Eddie in disbelief. "What? No! Never! Eddie, I promise I would never hurt you. I just thought that you..."

"That I would hurt you if I found out what you are?" Eddie asks quietly, his thumb stroking Steve's collarbone.

"Yes," Steve admits in a low voice. "But not anymore."

"No?" He sounds so hopeful when he asks this, so trusting in the way he holds Steve in his arms, even after learning of Steve's true nature. Steve smiles down at the man who saved him, who tended to him, who cared for him.

His human.

His mate, if Eddie will let him. Steve thinks he might.

"No, I feel safe with you."

Eddie's answering smile is blinding, and Steve has to kiss him, right here in the snow, sitting buck naked in Eddie's lap, the morning sun bathing them in its hopeful light.

[in1-nutshell]

Greetings, dear writer. May I request the next installment for the Bot Buddy with a Sonic Scream who's Soundwave's Conjux? I've been curious to find out if they and Soundwave will be reunited and just HOW Megatron pulled it off since he promised Sound to get them back. My dearest apologies if I messed up this ask request.

You didn't mess up, you did great!

Hope you enjoy!

Soundwave's Conjunx with the Sonic Scream reuniting with Soundwave

SFW, Platonic, Romance, Mention of injury, Angst, Cybertronain reader

TFP

It had been a hectic four hours on base.

The kids had been kidnapped by an unknown vehicle and the bots were scrambling to find out where they had gone.

Buddy was trying their best to calm down June when a Decepticon message was intercepted.

Megatron had sent the message.

“What does it say?”--Arcee

“Megatron will give the children if we… give him Buddy.”--Ratchet

Buddy’s back straightened at this.

“What?”--Wheeljack

“Fat chance.”—Bulkhead

Bumblebee and Smokescreen murmur in agreement.

Buddy quickly types something on their data pad and hands it to Ratchet.

“Buddy says that they are willing to do it. Buddy, we need to think this through.”--Ratchet

“Ratchet is correct. If you fall into the Decepticon hands, there is no telling what they will do to you, especially given that Megatron knows of your abilities.”--Optimus

Buddy vents frustrated clenching their servos tightly.

Optimus put a servo on their shoulder.

“We will get the children back Buddy, but as of now, we need to come up with a plan that secures everyone’s safety.”--Optimus

A plan was soon formed and set to motion.

As Megatron said he came alone with a canister with the kids to his side

Optimus walked through the bridge with Sonar by his side.

Optimus demanded the kids back.

Megatron wanted first.

Buddy slowly walked to the war lord.

Buddy walks up to Megatron with a slight pained look on their face.

Megatron’s optics soften a bit as he puts a servo on their shoulder.

“It has been many years since we have last seen each other my friend.”--Megatron

Buddy has a tight smile on their face nodding.

They felt conflicted at what was happening.

This Megatron was not the Megatronus they grew to care for.

This mech was a stranger.

…then why did they still see some of their friend behind those optics?

Megatron was about to say something when a speeding missile came at them.

Buddy quickly grabbed the canister with the kids and shielded them as they were thrown back.

Dust and sand were sprayed everywhere as shots were exchanged.

Turns out the Cons didn’t like leaving their leader alone either.

All they could do was run and shield the canister.

Buddy wanted to scream but realized that with the kids so close it wasn’t the best idea.

And if they put them down somewhere there was a good chance, they would get squashed in someone’s underpede.

There was too much dust flying everywhere.

Something kicks them in the back making them drop the canister and land hard on the ground.

Buddy suppressed the scream as something digs into their back struts.

They could feel several servos holding them down and roughly placing a muzzle on their faceplate.

But that’s not what scared them.

It was the familiar claps of a shock collar that sent them into a frenzy panic.

Buddy tried screaming but the collar simply shocked them.

They squirmed and tried again to talk only to be shocked again.

They knew they were going to get captured.

Buddy only hoped that the kids were okay and escaped.

Suddenly the cuffs were taken off and the muzzle tossed aside.

They still didn’t dare to move until the collar was off.

They shakingly pushed back from the ground and looked at who got the restraints off of them.

They swore they were about to faint.

There knelt a couple feet away was Soundwave.

Buddy and Soundwave stared at each other.

Tears built around Buddy’s optics as a sad smile etched on their face.

They wanted to scream in joy that they found their Conjunx.

Sing to Primus that their beloved was here.

Soundwave slowly reached for their servo.

…He never saw the hammer coming.

The last thing he saw was Buddy being slung over Bulkhead’s shoulder looking like they were going to sob at any moment.

Back at the Autobot base…

Bulkhead sets Buddy down on the med slab.

Buddy barely registers Ratchet checking them up.

“Buddy?”--Raf

They look down to see Raf and the other children by their side.

“Are you okay?”--Raf

Buddy hesitates to answer, thankfully June intervenes.

“How about we give them some time to rest. Doctor’s orders.”--June

Buddy flashes her a thankful look as she guides the children out of the room.

They tap the slab loud enough to get Ratchet’s attention.

“Buddy? Is there something you need?”--Ratchet

He moves closer only to get trapped in their arms.

He wanted to move but the sniffling told him otherwise.

It had been a tough day for everyone.

For both Autobot and Decepticon alike.

[leiasources]

an  assortment  of  disney  sentence  starters.    a  compilation  of  sentence  starters  from  and  inspired  by  lilo  and  stitch,  lady  and  the  tramp,  lady  and  the  tramp  ii:  scamp’s  adventure,  the  little  mermaid  and  the  little  mermaid  ii:  return  to  the  sea.  feel  free  to  adjust  as  necessary  but  do  not  add  to  the  list.  thank  you!

‘ i don't see how a world that makes such wonderful things could be bad. ’

‘ if anybody ever needed a muzzle, it's him ... ’

‘ have you lost your senses completely? ’

‘ i'd give anything to have what you have. ’

‘ i didn't mean it, {name}, i don't know what i was thinking! ’

‘ beyond those distant hills, who knows what wonderful experiences there are, and it's all ours for the taking. ’

‘ if you promise not to fight anymore, i promise not to yell at you ... except on special occasions. ’

‘ you ... saved my life. nobody else here would have dared to do that. ’

‘ you don't know what it was like. ’

‘ i see you haven't changed a bit. ’

‘ hey! watch where you're going, stupid head! ’

‘ you don't belong on the street. you won't last five minutes out here. ’

‘ wonder what they do around here for excitement. ’

‘ do we have a lobster door? no! we have a dog door! we're getting a dog. ’

‘ we're just going to forget this whole thing ever happened. ’

‘ how could there be anything wrong with something so wonderful? ’

‘ i'm not going home! you can't make me. ’

‘ did you lose your job because of me? ’

‘ if you want to leave, you can. i'll remember you though. i remember everyone that leaves. ’

‘ i just ... i just don't feel like i belong here. have you ever felt that way? ’

‘ i'm giving you a choice, you can come with me or you can return home. ’

‘ if your father knew about this place- ’

‘ if you ask me, she's a little strange ... ’

‘ everybody thinks i'm ... weird ... ’

‘ this is great. this is living! i never get to do this at home. ’

‘ why don't you go tell my father? you're good at that. ’

‘ stop criticizing me! that's all my mother ever did, criticize me! ’

‘ you're hiding something from me ... ’

‘ remember this: a human heart has only so much room for love and affection. ’

‘ i'm going to bust us out of here, if it's the last thing i do. ’

‘ i know you're trying, {name}, but you need to think about what's best for them ... even if it removes you from the picture. ’

‘ i've given you what you've always wanted ... they're the one who's been lying to you all these years. ’

‘ it wasn't built to keep something out ... it was built to keep me in. ’

‘ you've got no one to blame but yourself. ’

‘ well ... that's what comes of tying yourself down to one person. ’

‘ we could run off together. we don't need them. ’

‘ you're just like ... like your mother. ’

‘ it's about time you settle down. ’

‘ i thought we could sit out here and talk. ’

‘ i'm sorry i bit you ... and pulled your hair ... and punched you in the face. ’

‘ sometimes you try your hardest but things don't work out the way you want them to. ’

‘ i hope that you appreciate what i go through for you. ’

‘ take my advice and settle down with this one, huh? ’

‘ i should have been home hours ago ... ’

‘ i'm late because i had to go to the store and get peanut butter because all we have is stinkin' tuna- ’

‘ no, you don't belong there, you're better than that and that's what i like about you. ’

‘ you know, i really believed they had a chance ... then you came along. ’

‘ isn't it obvious? {name}'s in love. ’

‘ why didn't you wait at the school? you were supposed to wait there! ’

‘ that's the first time i've seen you smile in weeks. ’

‘ i know that's why you wreck things and why you're mean to me sometimes ... ’

‘ i was just like you when i was your age. ’

‘ i don't need you to shelter and protect me! ’

‘ you're not like the rest of us. you're good and kind. the streets will beat that out of you if you stay. ’

‘ you really want a family, don't you? ’

‘ i've got a very comfortable home, where i know you'll be loved and appreciated ... ’

‘ why do you act so weird? ’

‘ open up your eyes to what life can really be ... ’

‘ are you going to play dolls? ’

‘ this is great. i mean, i really love this ... adventure, excitement, danger lurking around every corner ... ’

‘ you don't have to be scared of me. i won't hurt you. ’

‘ we can't go in! the sign says- ’

‘ i need you to stay here for a few minutes. i'm going to be right back. ’

‘ i'm {number} years old! i'm not a child! ’

‘ hey, i brought you some pizza in case you were hungry. ’

‘ i'm not your girl. i don't belong to anyone ... ’

‘ i wish i could tell {name} how i feel ... but they'd never understand. ’

‘ you seem very familiar ... have we met? ’

‘ people treat me different. ’

‘ i know you've been keeping something from me. ’

‘ sometimes ... things have to change and maybe sometimes they're for the better. ’

‘ you didn't think they would miss you!? ’

‘ this is you and this is your badness level. it's unusually high for someone your size. ’

‘ all i ever hear is rules, rules, rules ... don't do this and don't do that ... ’

‘ everyone has trouble fitting in at your age. i know i did. i was a regular fish out of water. ’

‘ there's a great, big hunk of world out there with no fence around it, where two people can find adventure and excitement ... ’

‘ why did you keep the truth from me? ’

‘ i bet they've got a lid on every trash can ... oh, and a fence around every tree. ’

‘ we're a broken family, aren't we? ’

‘ if it wasn't for you, i would have wound up somewhere else... ’

‘ i'm the only one who understands them. you take that way, they won't stand a chance. ’

‘ our family is little now and we don't have much but if you want you could be a part of it. ’

‘ i'm going to stuff you in the blender, push puree then bake you into a pie and feed it to- ’

‘ when you're footloose and unattached ... well, that's nothing but the best. ’

‘ what are you doing out here? don't you have a nice family back home? ’

‘ don't you have a family? ’

‘ oh man, must have been horrible having someone care about you that much ... ’

‘ you have a home and a family that loves you. you're not like the rest of us, {name}. ’

‘ i'm just so afraid i'm going to make a total fool of myself. ’

‘ you're hiding something from me ... ’

‘ i didn't think they would miss me that much ... ’

‘ have you ever seen anything so wonderful in your entire life? ’

‘ i got to get to work. stick around town and stay out of the roads, okay? ’

‘ they aren't much of a family ... but what choice do i have? ’

‘ it's clear to me that you need them a lot more than they need you. ’

‘ i might not be a doctor but i know that there's no better cure for a sour face than a couple of boards and some choice waves. what do you think?  ’

‘ you're such a pain. ’

‘ come to join the party? ’

‘ the world out there is full of traps. here? here you have a family that loves you. ’

[wifelinkmtg]

Wifelink: Murders! #sponsored

Welcome back to the best dumb idea I've ever had! Murder has come to the City of Guilds. Well, murder lives here, but it's crept out of the shadows, crawled up from the undercity, slunk through steam and oozed its way out of the breeding pools, and guild leaders are dropping like coins from a debtor's mouth. Who could be responsible? Who could be next? Who was that woman slipping furtively into an alley, and what's her deal? Is she single? Some of these questions and more will be answered on today's episode. Live from Ravnica, this... is Wifelink.

But first, a word from today's sponsor: picture this - it's your turn to host the monthly meeting of your true crime book club, and you maybe haven't finished Massacre: the true story of Ravnica's bloodiest killings and the woman behind them, and now you're trying to decide whether to finish it so you don't look like an idiot in the discussion group, or to spend time whipping up hors d'oeuvres so you don't have to serve everyone the same stupid veggies-and-ranch plate you did last time and suffer once more through Joanna's veiled disapproval. But what if I told you there was a way to get professionally-made charcuterie shipped directly to your home, leaving you the time you need to finish your last few chapters and craft a trenchant discussion question just in time for the doorbell? With Hello Flesh, it's just that easy: the incredible chefs at Hellbender will provide you with a mouthwatering selection of their finest meats: prosciutto, summer sausage, capicola, pastrami, and much, much more! Go to helloflesh dot com now, and sign up using offer code KNIFELINK to get your first month absolutely free! That's helloflesh dot com, offer code K-N-I-F-E-L-I-N-K. Hello Flesh: Don't ask where the meat comes from.

WAIT, WE'RE DOING RAVNICA? DIDN'T YOU SKIP A COUPLE SETS

What are you, Azorius? I've never felt any fondness for Eldraine, and I really didn't vibe with the new Ixalan set, so we're doing the Ravnica Murder Mystery set. I'm not going to do every single set that comes out or this will be my full-time job by 2026.

Cold Case Cracker (art by Wayne Wu)

Some things are very simple. Good cheekbones and the classic trench coat with the wide belt. I particularly enjoy the way her hair looks more like strips of fabric or parchment.

Merchant of Truth (art by Carissa Susilo)

"Goth angel" works on me every time, and this piece is particularly gorgeous - the composition and that dress, my goodness. You don't see a lot of angels from behind in Magic, on account of you would have to figure out what the anatomy and clothing situation is where the wings connect to the back, and Carissa has solved the clothing problem rather elegantly, and refused to engage with the anatomy problem at all. I can respect that.

I've never quite understood what's going on with Orzhov angels - I think they're mostly supposed to be disillusioned ex-Boros, but they don't really get much of a voice in story. You've got the flavor text on Angel of Despair, "it is as if their duty is to an empty void," but that's a quote from the most Boros of all the angels. Perhaps it's simply that the Orzhov don't labor under the same illusions as the other white-aligned guilds - the Boros and the Azorius and as we see in this story, even the Selesnya are all firmly entrenched in the idea that they stand for what's Right and Good on Ravnica, but ultimately they stand only for themselves and their own power and pre-eminence. The Orzhov, at least, make no secret of this. Maybe that's a comfort, to an angel.

Experiment Twelve (art by Michele Giorgi)

Oh baby girl the Simic fucked you right up, didn't they. Claws and scales and some sort of muzzle - do you feel like an animal, now? Do you hate what they did to you, or do you glory in your new sharpness? Did you escape, or are you on their leash? Are you hunted, or am I?

Bubble Smuggler (art by Leesha Hannigan)

This is Glovax. I've only had them for a day but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in the room and then myself.

Honestly I'm disconsolate that this isn't a real animal that exists in the world and that I'll never get to rescue one from an aquarium and have an octopus fish best friend for life. You know that soul-sick feeling you get when you remember that Anomalocaris has been extinct for 500 million years ago and that you will never be able to pet one? Yeah. Goddammit they're going to make this a pet on Arena and I will spend real earth dollars on it.

ALL THESE TENTACLES AND STILL THE BIGGEST SUCKER IS YOU. NOW MAKE WITH THE LEGENDARIES

Etrata, Deadly Fugitive (art by Livia Prima)

I have looked at a whole lot of Etrata art, and do you want to know my considered opinion? This outfit fucking rules. It's got one and a quarter sleeves, thirteen visible buckles, a circular collar that connects only at the sternum, and a clingy ankle-length skirt with a slit damn near up to the thigh to reveal more buckles. It is the least practical outfit I can imagine an assassin wearing short of an inflatable dinosaur costume but god, it looks like it's meant for deadly stealth, and I am in love. Etrata is broody and gorgeous and has a big knife and extraordinarily naked shoulders, and what else could you want?

Judith, Carnage Connoisseur (art by Jodie Muir)

A look specifically crafted to elicit "step on me mommy"s from the general public. I'm on record as saying that there's no way Judith does any sort of aftercare, so maybe have a Selesnya cleric on speed-dial if you're gonna run that risk.

Judith, Carnage Connoisseur (alternate art by Alex Dos Diaz)

I think Loxodon Hierarch is screening my calls.

Honestly, I would do stupid, stupid things for a pretty girl with red eyes, sharp nails and facial scarring. I'm not sure what kinds of things I would do for a pretty girl with gold flame decals on her arms, but based on prior evidence, they would probably also be extremely stupid.

Izoni, Center of the Web (art by Justine Cruz)

It's weird how people get locked in your memory at the point in time you knew them. You know you've changed a lot since then, and if you thought about it you'd agree other people might well also have changed, but you don't think about it, and then you run into an old friend or an ex and the things you knew them for, the things you've tied their memory to in your mind, aren't even still part of their life.

So Izoni, my beloved Izoni, Ravnica's foremost bug girl and finder of beetles, has moved on with her life in the past six years. She's into spiders now, that's her thing. She's a spider girl. And that's cool, spiders are cool, too, but the way this went in my head I was going to tell her about the mantis-riders of Tarkir and the dune-beetles of Amonkhet and the behavioral quirks of giant ants on Innistrad and now, instead, I'm not sure what to say. "You're looking well," I suppose, or something about, "so, leading the Swarm now? How's that going for you?"

Analyze the Pollen (art by Anna Christenson)

It's not even that big a change, really. Hardly noticeable. She still has that same intensity, that same curiosity. Her brows still furrow in concentration. She's still covered in crawling things, and she is still the most beautiful woman on Ravnica. Spiders or insects, what's the difference? All it means is that six years have passed. All it means is that the places and people you love continue to move in your absence. All it means is that you're both talking past each other to your echoes, to the people you used to know, who no longer exist. Time has eaten them both.

And if you, like time, get hungry, don't forget to use our affiliate code KNIFELINK at -

HEY. HELLO FLESH IS A RAKDOS JOINT, RIGHT

- in the middle of the ad read, dude?

YOU SAID HELLBENDER CHEFS DO THE CHARCUTERIE. THAT'S JUDITH'S PLACE

Yeah, what about it?

DO YOU THINK SHE'S GONNA BE GOOD WITH CONTENT SHE SPONSORED CALLING SOMEONE ELSE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN RAVNICA

Ah.

OR LIKE DO YOU THINK SHE'S GENERALLY COMFORTABLE SHARING THE SPOTLIGHT

...so thank you all so much for listening to this episode of Wifelink! I'm going to lay low for a bit, and if my body turns up face-down in an undercity canal, y'all know who did it.

[hypnoneghoul]

Hi, same anon from a few weeks ago that was asking if you could write some little sick Phantom.

I was supposed to go to the concert last night that got rescheduled, luckily I still get to go but I've been crying all morning and now am at work trying not to cry more even though it's kinda dumb because I get to go tomorrow.

Do you think I can get some more little Phantom comfort?

Thank you in advance if you do ❤️

I'm so sorry this happened darling :( and feeling like this it's not dumb at all, it's completely valid! I hope you're better now <3

this is short and rushed because I just got off work but wanted to deliver this asap, I hope it's decent

sorry for the asks that had been waiting, I'll take care of everything tommorow because today was my last day at work

First time it happened he was so scared.

He didn't know what was going on, the only thought in his fuzzy brain being "wrong". It never happened before and he was scared and didn't know what to do, where to go.

Something in his mind started to slip after his panic when he messed up again, another song. He knew it was normal, each and every one of them messed up and he never ate himself up for doing so.

But that day... he was tired. Another show in a row, not being able to get enough rest on the loud and jumping bus in between them, Phantom was exhausted. He grew to love touring, playing, but it was tiring. And he was on the verge.

Everyone was getting snappy and he was sure someone was close to actually smacking him over the head, not just playfully for the show.

He cried, under the mask, when he messed up that night. Tried to calm down, take deep breaths through the fabric muzzle and tell himself to not be dramatic. It didn't work.

Well, not exactly.

He felt his brain slowing, but not stopping at just "calm". It slowed further, until all he could think about was how scared he was of punishment for his mistake. Mistakes.

Phantom has no idea how he got through the rest of the show, but he did his best, even if he was practically shaking with held back sobs by the time the last song ended. He hoped no one noticed, he was so stupid, dramatic but he was so scared, he-

"Hey, bug," Swiss' voice cut through the haze as he squeezed Phantom's hand. When did he grab it? His eyes widened, he wasn't fast enough to hold back a whine. "You alright?"

He opened his mouth to say yes, but his words just wouldn't come out. His heart sped up impossibly, shoulders slumped as his fear only grew.

What was going on, why couldn't he think, why didn't he understand what was going on around, what was everything so loud, why his limbs felt so heavy, why-

"Calm down, kid, you're okay," he heard Swiss again.

Kid.

A kid.

That's... that's what he was.

He was just a kid who ended up in front oh thousands of people full of expectations and he failed them all. He failed his packmates, his Papa. He was just a kid but he was already a failure.

Somehow he ended up on a couch. When did he get to a couch?

The couch was... warm. And its shape was weird.

The couch was talking.

"Back with me, bug, it's alright, I've got you," it wasn't the couch, it was Swiss.

Phantom jumped, he failed Swiss too, he couldn't be comforted by him.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby," the multi ghoul cooed again, smoothing a big, warm hand over Phantom's back. It was nice. "There you go, that's the happy purr."

Baby.

Purr? He was purring?

He tried to say something, anything, but he couldn't. There was so little words in his head.

"Don't try to talk, kid, there's no need. Just relax."

Kid.

Phantom liked that, it was like Swiss... understood. Even if he himself didn't. It was nice. Swiss was nice.

He couldn't say it, but he cuddled closer, curling up more in Swiss' lap. He hoped Swiss would understand.

"There you go, yeah, just like that, kid, I've got you."

He did, Swiss did have him, Swiss was home, he was-

"Safe," Phantom mumbled, the only word he seemed to have right now.

"Yes, you're safe," Swiss chuckled.

The quintessence ghoul whined in protest, though, shook his head, "You... safe."

"I'm... safe?" Swiss asked, Phantom shook his head again.

"I... mean safe?" that got Swiss an enthusiastic nod and a happy chirp before he burrowed back into the crook of his neck. "Yes, baby, safe with me. Always safe with me."

.

.

.

When he was himself again, Swiss made him talk with Rain about what happened. How exactly did he feel, how did his head feel. Phantom was embarrassed, he told them it was just stupid panic attack or something, he was just being dramatic, he was tired.

Rain begged to differ.

He told Phantom he regressed. Something that Rain themself did sometimes, Dew and Mountain too, though slightly different. He told him it was normal, that he could learn to enjoy feeling all small.

Phantom could believe that... but only if Swiss would be there to keep him safe.

[wyntereyez]

A Little Batty

Here it is... my @cssns contribution! It's late because I've been burned out, and it was originally going to have art by @spartanguard and be betaed by @ohmakemeahercules, but because I didn't get anything done until the last minute, I didn't want to impose.

--------

A Little Batty

Emma’s nights volunteering at the Storybrooke Bat Rehabilitation Center (locally referred to as ‘The Belfry’) weren’t something she’d ever imagined herself doing. She was no Disney princess; she didn’t have a natural rapport with animals. But The Belfry was her sister-in-law’s baby, and who was Emma to resist Mary Margaret’s pleading eyes? And she had to admit, any animal that let you roll it into a little burrito was cute.

Plus, her nights fell on the nights Henry was over at Neal’s. Though she didn’t think she was one of Those Moms who missed their children whenever they weren’t around, Emma admitted to herself that she was lonely when he was gone. Their creaky old house suddenly felt big and empty, and it became too much for Emma. At least at The Belfry, she could socialize without going to the effort of getting dressed up and going out in public.

Ruby was already there when Emma arrived. Unlike Emma, she did have a way with animals (“Not all animals; just creatures of the night,” she’d joked) and was the best at handling the animals when their cages needed cleaning.

And then there was Mary Margaret, who really was a Disney Princess, and you couldn’t convince Emma otherwise. All animals loved her, and she loved all animals. 

They were gathered around Mary Margaret’s desk, discussing distribution of chores (Emma was not on cage-cleaning duty tonight, thank goodness) when they were interrupted by the arrival of William Smee, the man in charge of the local marina.

Emma thought at first he’d come specifically looking for her as sheriff, but he’d only nodded in greeting and headed straight to Mary Margaret.

He was wearing the thick gloves he used for dock work, and held what looked like a ratty old beach towel cupped in both hands. “Mrs. Nolan! I found a bat down at the docks. I didn’t know what else to do with him, so I brought him straight here.”

It was unusual for Smee to be working this late at night, especially past the tourist season, and Emma instinctively wondered why. She mentally scolded herself; she needed to stop being paranoid; not everyone did things for duplicitous reasons. Like her ex.

“Let’s see what you have,” Mary Margaret said. She opened the desk drawer and withdrew a set of the thick leather gloves they used when handling the bats. Smee pulled away the top layer of the towel, just enough to reveal his captive without releasing it.

Emma expected a large brown bat; they made up most of the local bat population, and thus most of The Belfry’s residents. She wasn’t prepared for when the towel fell away from a sharp, fox-like muzzle and huge eyes, topped with large, pointed ears.

It was a fruit bat. A rather large one, at that. It stared calmly back at them with its wide, dark eyes, and twitched its ears. It seemed completely unbothered at being a bat-burrito, suggesting it was accustomed to being handled. It yawned, exposing sharp canines, one of which had a small chip in it.

“Where did you find it?” Mary Margaret asked as she pulled on the thick leather gloves.

“He was down at the docks,” Smee said. “Nestled in a coil of rope. I almost missed him, but he squeaked at me. It’s like he wanted to get my attention.”

The bat squeaked, as though it were chiming in.

“He didn’t even put up a fight. He was easy to catch - you’ll see why,” Smee said as the last of the towel fell away, leaving the bat exposed in Mary Margaret’s hand. Annoyed, the bat spread its wings, and Emma ducked out of the way of the enormous right wing. 

It was only after she righted herself that noticed his left wing, which Mary Margaret had caught and was gently holding. It was only half the length of the right, ending with a club of scar tissue just below what would have been the wrist. Mary Margaret was examining it critically, frowning.

“It’s an old injury,” Mary Margaret said, releasing the wing. The bat gave her a sour look and tucked it to his side. “No way he’s been living wild. He’s probably someone’s pet; a sailor, maybe, since you found him at the docks. He’s definitely used to being handled.”

He was also very obviously a ‘he,’ Emma couldn’t help but notice when the bat rolled over onto his back, his rear towards Emma. He looked towards her, gave a startled squeak, and wrapped his wings around himself.

Emma needed to stop anthropomorphizing the residents, because there was no way he could be embarrassed by accidentally flashing her.

“We’ll put him in one of the isolation cages for now,” Mary Margaret decided. “Just because he seems healthy now, doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong with him. Ruby, I brought a banana for a snack; it’s in the break room if you could grab it for me, please?”

“Do you have any idea where he came from?” Emma asked Smee. Fruit bats were illegal to have as pets, and while Emma didn’t think the owner would get more than a fine, they could lead to a larger illegal animal trade organization. “Anyone new around the docks?” It was the wrong time of year for it, though; most of the boats that came to Storybrooke for the summer tourist season had departed in the last few weeks. It was possible one of them had left the bat, but that meant he’d been on the docks fending for himself for at least a week. He look too healthy for a pet that had been abandoned that long.

“We have one ship that’s wintering over for repairs, but he’s not the bat’s owner,” Smee said. He seemed very certain of this, but there was something shifty in his gaze as he said it. Emma prided herself at being good at detecting lies and Smee…wasn’t lying, not exactly, but he wasn’t telling the truth, either. Before Emma could pursue it further, however, Mary Margaret interrupted.

“Obviously, he can’t be released into the wild,” Mary Margaret sighed. “He seems pretty docile; we can probably put him in the bat educational program, assuming he’s healthy and remains easy to handle. Thank you for bring him, Mr. Smee. We’ll take good care of him.”

Smee took this as his cue to leave, but not without an odd backward glance at the bat.

Emma told herself the bat did not nod at Smee.

Ruby returned with the banana and began to peel it. At the sight of it, the bat began squeaking and straining towards it. “Someone’s hungry,” she cooed, and held it out. The bat’s mouth opened wide, and he tore off a chunk that looked like it should have been too large for him.

They let him eat as much as he wanted while Mary Margaret held him. When he was finished, consuming almost the entire thing (How? Emma wondered. Where did he put it all?), Mary Margaret said, “I need to feed the others. Emma, could you get some gloves and put this guy in the furthest isolation cage?”

Emma grabbed another set of gloves. “Isn’t he too big?” The cages were designed for much smaller brown bats; he’d be cramped.

“He should be okay for a few days. And since he can’t fly, we don’t have to worry about too little space. He should have enough room to spread his wings, at least.”

The bat chittered, and licked banana mush off its muzzle. “We’ll have more fruit for you tomorrow,” Mary Margaret promised. “A variety. How do you feel about strawberries?” She chattered on as she transferred him to Emma.

The bat squeaked excitedly.

Which was a valid reaction to strawberries, but couldn’t be in response to Mary Margaret’s words. Right? 

Could bats pick up words, like dogs? Maybe he did understand ‘strawberries.’

Emma carried the bat to the back area, past the large, open enclosures that housed the permanent populations, as well as the wild ones that would be released as soon as they were ready. The isolation cages were smaller, designed to make it easy to catch a bat that would need constant care and observation.

She opened the door of the last cage, the largest, and gently lowered her hands. It took some prodding to move him off her palms, and at last he moved with great reluctance. He crawled across the floor of the cage to the bars, and immediately began to climb them to the top, unhindered by the missing finger bones of his wing, then crawled around the top until he found the perfect spot. He anchored his feet in place and dropped his body until he was hanging upside down, eye to eye with Emma. Then, with a great yawn, he pulled his wings around himself until only the tips of his ears were visible.

“Stay out of trouble,” she told him.

Emma could have sworn he’d winked at her.

~oOo~

Emma stopped by the marina at the end of her shift, curious if the bat’s owner had returned. Her attention was drawn to a ship she hadn’t seen before, a massive wooden ship that looked like it would be more at home in the Caribbean than in Maine. It was moored at the largest dock, and Emma saw it had no sails, nor any rigging. It must have been the ship Smee said was staying over for the winter, since that was the only reason to derig it. She hadn’t expected anything so… spectacular. The ship was gorgeous. She studied it curiously for several minutes, wondering who would own such a vessel, then shrugged and headed towards the main office. The door was locked, however; Smee had already left, and there was no one else on the docks.

She shrugged and headed to The Belfry.

Mary Margaret was already there, feeding the residents. It alway icked Emma out, to see her gentle sister-in-law feeding the ecstatic bats their mealworms.

“How’s our newest resident?” Emma asked.

“He was just waking up when I checked on him,” Mary Margaret said. “He looks alert, with no obvious signs of illness. The vet stopped by earlier to take some samples, so we should know soon if there’s any diseases we should worry about.” She frowned. “There was a bit of blood in his cage, but the vet couldn’t find any injuries. Did you cut yourself when you put him in the cage last night?”

“No,” she said, but examined her hands anyway.

“Huh. Well, if you’d like to feed him, there’s a bowl of fresh fruit in the fridge for him.” Mary Margaret grinned. “At least you’ll be able to feed this one without screaming,” she teased.

Emma scowled, because her revulsion to mealworms was totally valid, thank you very much.

Ruby had thrown a mealworm at her.

It had gone down her cleavage.

Emma was never going to touch a damn worm again.

Emma found the bowl of fruit, snagging a chunk of melon for herself before picking up the bowl and carrying it to the quarantine cage.

He was clinging to the bars of the cage when she arrived, his nose pressed to the fine mesh between the bars as though he’d been waiting for her. When he saw her - or, more likely, the bowl of fruit - he began to squeak excitedly.

Emma was charmed.

The name ‘Killian’ had been written on the paper taped to his cage, in fancy penmanship that Emma didn’t recognize.

“Killian, huh?” Emma asked.

The bat squeaked.

“Okay, if you say so.”

She snagged another piece of fruit - a strawberry this time, much to the bat’s indignation - then placed the bowl at the bottom of the cage. Killian quickly climbed down and hopped into the bowl, quickly losing himself in fruity bliss.

Emma laughed, then went to help Mary Margaret finish up.

“Who named him Killian?” she asked.

Mary Margaret frowned. “I thought you did. The name was there when I got here, and you were the last one to see him.”

“If I’d named him, it would be something like ‘Batty,’” Emma pointed out. “Or possibly ‘Dracula.’” She shrugged. “He seems to like it, so we may as well keep it.”

Mary Margaret gave her a strange look. “I’m sure he doesn’t care,” was all she said.

~oOo~

Killian’s test results came back clean. As long as his phlegmatic temperament continued, he’d be introduced to the other bats, though he’d be kept in a cage alone to accommodate his disability. He seemed fine with this; the smaller cage was beside the bigger one, so he could watch and communicate with the other bats if he chose. It also had bars that were easier to grip and climb. For a fruit bat with full, functional wings, it wouldn’t be ideal, but since Killian couldn’t fly, all he needed was enough room to stretch his wings to the fullest without touching the bars.

When he continued to be easy to handle, they decided it was safe to hold him without gloves. He seemed to like this, settling into Emma’s hands contentedly.

That was how she found out that bats <i>purred.</i>

“Oh,” Mary Margaret said. “He really likes you! Guess you’re his official caretaker from now on.”

Killian continued to purr in her hands. Emma decided maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Because he was so comfortable with people, even seeming to prefer their company, Emma took to carrying him around the sanctuary. Sometimes he’d be burritoed in a blanket, other times he’d drape over her shoulder, that incredibly long intact wing lazily hanging down. He seemed very curious about the computer whenever she played around with it at the desk (officially ‘doing paperwork’ for the sanctuary, but actually looking at memes) and she’d see his wide, dark eyes staring at the images.

He seemed especially interested in the staffing schedule.

Emma was also the only one he allowed to ‘fly’ him. It was something they did with elderly bats, holding them and carrying them around the sanctuary, wings spread, as if they were flying. Killian seemed bemused by the whole process, but allowed himself to be carried around. 

Especially since the reward was always a bowl of fresh fruit - and gentle ear scritches from Emma.

~oOo~

Emma hadn’t intended to start dating again. Her divorce from Neal had been messy; he hadn’t been willing to let her go, despite his affair with his now-girlfriend Tamara. She thought she was done with men.

And then her sister-in-law introduced her to Walsh. They’d met when Mary Margaret had gone to the new furniture store in town, and she’d been charmed by his politeness. 

Emma had tried to refuse Mary Margaret’s efforts to set them up, but then David had joined in. Her brother had thus far sided with Emma, and had talked Mary Margaret out of multiple attempts at a set-up. For him to approve of Walsh? That meant something. So Emma had reluctantly agreed to the date.

Walsh felt… safe. He was polite, respectful. Not particularly adventurous, which would have been a big turn-off once, but now it had appeal. Best of all, he didn’t argue with her every decision. She’d forgotten what it was like to be in a relationship with no drama.

One date became two, and plans were made for a third.

~oOo~

Emma arrived late to the sanctuary on the night of her second date. She hadn’t wanted to be out so late, but Walsh had admitted to being something of a night owl, and didn’t really eat until around nine in the evening. Emma had had to have a pre-dinner before dinner, because she knew she’d starve to death if she waited that long.

But she’d had more fun than expected. And eating later in the evening meant fewer diners, which had made the restaurant more intimate. 

She’d liked it.

And the dim interior made it harder to maintain eye contact with Walsh. She’d noticed that he had a really intense gaze, and tried to meet hers as often as he could. It was… uncomfortable, for reasons Emma couldn’t really explain.

Emma put it out of her mind as she turned her attention on the anxious fruit bat, who was perched with his muzzle sticking out of the cage. At the sight of her, he gave several ear-piercing shrieks.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

Killian gave her a sour look.

“Hey! Don’t give me that! It’s not like you can tell time!”

He continued to glower.

“Okay, sorry!”

He tilted his head, considering. Then, with a sound that was almost a purr, he extended his right wing towards her thumb, snagging it with his clever little finger, and pulling her hand closer. He was about to pull himself onto her hand when he suddenly froze.

His nose twitched, wrinkled, and he bared his sharp little teeth. And then he did something he’d never done before.

He hissed.

Emma jerked her hands back. “Whoa! What’s with you today?”

He continued to stare at her as though she smelled rancid, and he wouldn’t come near her. Rather than stress him out further, Emma let him be. It wouldn’t hurt him to miss a night of flying.

~oOo~

A bat’s rejection shouldn’t have stung.

Killian continued to be edgy the rest of the night, so she left him alone.

After her shift, Emma realized she was too restless to sleep. Maybe it was a lingering excitement over the date, or maybe Emma really had taken Killian’s tantrum personally, but she didn’t want to go home. It was Neal’s weekend with Henry, and she couldn’t face being cooped up in that empty house.

So she went to The Rabbit Hole, Storybrooke’s only nightlife scene. She drew a few glances as she walked in, but they lost interest as soon as they saw she was off duty. She went straight to the bar and ordered a strawberry daiquiri, because apparently hanging around a fruit bat made you crave fruity things.

She’d been there maybe ten minutes when someone sat beside her. A richly accented voice that definitely did not send a shiver down Emma’s spine asked for a rum. 

Emma waited until he’d been served his drink before turning to him and asking, “New in town?” 

He turned, and Emma’s breath hitched when she met those blue, blue eyes. “What gave it away, Love?” he asked, amused.

English accents turned her into putty. Especially when combined with a smoldering gaze.

Mistakes had been made.

“I know everyone in this town,” she said. “You stick out like a sore thumb.”

“Oh? And who might you be?”

“I’m the sheriff,” she warned him. 

“And you don’t take kindly to strangers ‘round these parts?” he mocked, adapting a twang.

“We’re fine with strangers - so long as they don’t bring trouble.”

He grinned, flashing sharp teeth. “And I look like trouble?”

Emma arched an eyebrow. 

His smile widened. Oh, he knew exactly how he looked.

“Killian Jones,” he said, offering his hand. Emma lifted a brow when, instead of shaking, he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She hmmphed, refusing to be charmed by his old world manners.

Emma’s eyes fell on his left wrist, where a thick leather brace supported a rather alarming looking metal hook. His gaze followed hers. “Forgive the hardware,” he said. “Crude, I know, but it’s far more useful sailing than a more delicate prosthesis or a false hand.” He pulled his arm closer to his chest, not quite hiding it, but at least making it look less threatening.

His name wasn’t the only thing he had in common with their fruit bat.

“Are you a sailor, Mr. Jones?”

“Killian,” he reminded her. “Or Captain Jones, if you prefer to be formal. And I’m actually a pirate.”

Emma scoffed, then realized, “That old-fashioned ship in the marina! It’s yours!”

Killian nodded. “Aye, the Jolly Roger,” he said. That seemed a bit too on point. “I do charter sails for history buffs, as well as doing movie and television appearances. You’d be surprised what people will pay for a two-week Caribbean cruise with a dashing rapscallion like meself.” He grinned, and once again Emma had the unsettling thought that his teeth were very, very sharp.

“And what brings you here, Captain?”

“My ship is in need of repair, so I’m going to winter over in your lovely town,” he said. 

“Odd; Granny Lucas didn’t mention taking in any lodgers,” Emma noted.

“I’ve made other arrangements,” Killian shrugged.

Maybe he’d leased a place, then. The cottages were usually only available to lease to summer tourists, but she wouldn’t be surprised if one of the owners made an exception.

“You don’t happen to own a bat, do you?” she asked suddenly.

He blinked rapidly, blindsided.

He had beautiful eyelashes.

“Like…a baseball bat?” he asked slowly.

“Never mind,” Emma muttered. She pulled a couple of crumpled bills out of her pocket and set them on the bar. She stood up. “Nice to meet you Mr. - Captain Jones. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“I didn’t get your name,” he said. It wasn’t a demand; rather, a polite inquiry. He was allowing her to be mysterious if she chose. Not that it would be hard to find out her name, since she was the sheriff. Still, she appreciated it.

“Emma Swan,” she said.

“See you around, Swan,” he said, low and throaty, and she totally did not shiver.

She left before she could embarrass herself.

~oOo~

Emma’s third date with Walsh led to a fourth.

After each date, Killian-the-bat would give her that angry hiss, and Emma wondered if he were somehow jealous that someone else was taking her time.

But he’d eventually get over it.

Which was probably a good thing, because they had their first school visit of the semester, and if he’d been cranky, he’d have missed out on having dozens of adoring children who cooed at him and gave him all the fruit he could ever want.

Though he wasn’t too crazy about being touched by their sticky fingers. But he allowed it, showing more patience than Emma had ever had.

She saw Killian-the-human several times over the next week; usually at the bar, once, coming out of the hardware store with items she assumed were for ship repair. Each time, he gave her a significant Look that she couldn’t read.

And then it happened, on a night when Emma was walking out of Granny’s diner with a bag full of carryout containers and a couple of donuts in preparation for an overnight shift at The Belfry. 

After three weeks of casual conversation, Killian asked her out for a drink. 

And Emma…she wanted to go.

Even though she barely knew him, she felt a spark with him, something that was more than just the thrill of his smoldering gaze.

“I’m actually seeing someone,” she said.

She hadn’t meant to sound regretful. She shouldn’t feel bad about dating Walsh, right?

“You don’t sound so certain,” Killian observed.

Dammit. “No, I am,” she said firmly. “He’s…nice.”

“All right,” Killian said. “I’ll see you around then, Swan.”

Emma released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. That had been harder than she’d expected. And a little part of her had feared he wouldn’t respond well to being ‘friendzoned.’

She watched him walk away, swaggering, then turned and stepped forward - into something very solid.

Walsh.

A deep frown was etched into his features. Emma wondered how long he’d been standing there in the dark, and if he’d heard everything.

“Who was that?” he asked.

Emma didn’t like his tone. Clearly, he had been eavesdropping.

“Just someone wintering over,” Emma said. “We talk occasionally.”

“He seemed to want to do more than talk,” Walsh said. His jaw was clenched, and Emma frowned. Oh, no. They were not going to do this.

“It doesn’t matter what he wanted,” Emma said coolly.

“Come to dinner with me,” Walsh said. It wasn’t a question.

Oh, hell no. She was not going to put up with this possessive bullshit. 

“I have other plans,” she said.

“Like what?” he demanded.

“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.

Something flickered across Walsh’s face, then he abruptly deflated. “Sorry,” he said. “I know I have nothing to worry about. I just don’t want to lose you, Emma.”

Emma studied him, all senses on alert. But he seemed sincere enough. Still… “We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” she told him wearily. “Right now, I have to get going.”

She made it to The Belfry just as Ruby was leaving for the day. “I left some bags of popcorn for you for later,” she told Emma as she pulled on her coat. “There’s some Milk Duds, too.”

Emma grinned. “You’re the best, Ruby.”

“I know,” the other woman grinned toothily.

Nights at The Belfry tended to be long. Emma only over-nighted once a week, and she used the time to binge watch shows. The last time she’d done it, Killian-the-bat had sat on her shoulder and squeaked at the screen.

She’d just checked the bats and was about to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave when she heard the front door open.

Emma froze. She could have sworn she locked it.

And then a familiar voice called, “Emma?” and she relaxed. Marginally. Why was Walsh here?

“Walsh, hey,” Emma said cautiously. “We don’t really allow guests this late at night.”

“I’m not a guest, I’m your boyfriend,” he reminded her. 

Emma went over to the front desk, sitting on the edge. Her hand crept over to the lamp on the corner.

“That doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not? Is he here?”

Nope. Not doing this.

“Walsh… If you’re going to do this, then I don’t think we should see each other anymore. I’m not going to put up with someone who doesn’t trust me and stalks me at work.”

Walsh leaned back, staring down at her. But he made no move to leave. Emma braced herself for the inevitable meltdown.

Instead, he threw back his head and laughed.

At her shocked look, he said, “Did you think that would hurt me? It’s a relief, actually,” Walsh said. “Having to pretend to be interested in you is draining. You’re too abrasive, and you don’t trust anyone. Which, admittedly, was the right choice here. But it’s over now, and my master will reward me well.”

His eyes were red. Not bloodshot, but glowing a baleful crimson. “What the fu-”

Then their eyes locked, and Emma felt…something. It writhed around in her mind, clawing into her, leaving her feeling dirty. He was inside her head somehow, and she wanted him out, out, OUT!

Emma jerked her gaze away, and Walsh snarled.

“Why isn’t this working?” Walsh fumed. “You should be mine!” Then he smirked, showing off far too sharp teeth. “Guess we’ll have to do this the fun way, then.”

Emma reacted. Her hand flew to the heavy lamp on the desk corner, and she flung it at Walsh’s head. He didn’t react in time, and it hit him squarely in the forehead.

He didn’t even flinch.

It should have taken him down, or at least disoriented him long enough to continue attacking or escape. No man should have taken a direct hit to the head and just shaken it off.

He wasn’t normal.

He wasn’t human.

So Emma ran.

Her lunge to the side caught Walsh by surprise, and he didn’t immediately react. It bought her a few precious seconds to dart through the door leading towards the cage room.

There was an emergency exit in the back of the sanctuary. Emma sprinted towards it.

Walsh stepped out of the shadows, blocking her path.

<i>How?!</i> How had he gotten in front of her? It wasn’t possible!

“I’m not here to kill you, Emma,” Walsh said in exasperation. “I’m just going to take you to my master.”

Killian shrieked, beating his wings against the bars of his cage. Walsh ignored him.

“But…nobody said I couldn’t rough you up a bit.” His hands extended towards her, tipped in razor sharp claws.

Killian fell silent.

Emma dropped to the floor and kicked her leg out, hitting Walsh in the knee with bone-breaking force. It didn’t do more than stagger him, however, and he quickly recovered. Emma rolled away, but misjudged her direction and slammed into one of the cages. The bats inside fluttered their wings in agitation.

Walsh lunged towards her.

And then Walsh crashed to the floor. Something bumped and rolled across the floor, coming to a stop before Emma. Walsh’s head, the red fading from his eyes as they slowly dimmed. 

Standing over the body was Killian, the human Killian, dressed in black leather and wielding what looked like a pirate’s cutlass. “Are you all right, Love?” he asked.

His eyes had the same red glow as Walsh’s.

“What the fuck?” Emma shrieked.

Killian gave her a crooked smile.

A fang poked out from behind his lips.

“Apologies, Love,” Killian Jones said. The red was fading from his eyes, though the sharp fangs remained. “I’ll clean up the mess.”

Emma just stared at his teeth.

One of them was chipped. Just like Killian-the-bat’s.

“You’re…you’re…” 

“A vampire, yes,” Killian said. As if it were the most normal thing in the world. But Emma supposed that made more sense than what she’d been about to say: You’re my bat! “As was your…boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” Emma muttered. “It was just a couple of dates.”

“Mmph.” He crouched down, examining Walsh’s body. Then, to her horror, he dragged his finger through the small pool of blood and put it in his mouth.

“He’s a neophyte; probably not more than a year since he was changed. Which means his master has to be close by, because a vampire this young seldom strays far from his master.” Killian studied her closely. “Which means he was specifically sent to seduce you. I wonder why?”

Emma didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t know, she wasn’t special. 

“You somehow resisted his attempt to control you,” Killian continued. “That’s a rare gift.”

”You should be mine,” Walsh had said. 

“How can you be a vampire?” There was a shrill edge of panic to her voice. This was too much, far too much.

“It’s a long story,”  he said. “I won’t get into that tonight. All you need to know is that I hunt vampires like him, those who break our laws and hunt humans.”

“But… I’ve seen you during the day.” Walsh, on the other hand, she’d never before sunset. She’d just assumed he was a night owl, not a freaking <i>vampire</i>

“I’m over 300 years old. I’ve developed an immunity to sunlight. I don’t like it, but I can go out in it.”

“Three hun-” Her brain stuttered to a halt. “Are you actually a pirate?”

Killian chuckled. “I have been called such, yes. I prefer ‘dashing rapscallion.’”

“You would,” she scoffed. 

“There’s that spirit,” he said approvingly. “It’s a lot to take in, I know.”

She tried to back away, forgetting in her panic that the cage was behind her.

“I’ve been here over a month, and you haven’t had any mysterious deaths or illnesses related to blood loss, aye?”

There hadn’t been, actually. The town had been as calm as it always was after the tourist season ended. That didn’t mean Killian didn’t do his hunting elsewhere, but she hadn’t heard anything from the nearest towns, either.

“So…you’ve been living in town as a bat and a human for a month, and no one even noticed?”

“The werewolf knows, but she and I reached an understanding.”

“The…the werewolf…” Emma repeated faintly.

“The lovely Miss Lucas,” Killian said. “She figured out what I was fairly quickly, but we came to an agreement.”

“Ruby…is a werewolf…”

“Aye. She’ll probably be furious that I told you, but she will vouch for me. She knows our laws, and how strictly we enforce them.”

This was all too much. Emma had snapped. She blurted out the next thing that came to mind. “Shouldn’t you be a <i>vampire bat</i>?”

Killian looked pained. “I don’t have the most fearsome bat form, I admit.” And then his expression became lascivious. “But I’m certainly one of the biggest.”

Of course you are, Emma thought. 

Emma’s hands were still shaking. She clenched her fists, hoping to hide the trembling.

He noticed, however, and his face softened.

“I mean you no harm, Swan,” Killian said softly. “I rarely need to partake in human blood, and then only with willing donors. This town is safe from me.” His gaze went to Walsh’s corpse. “His master, however, seems to have no such qualms. It appears we were right about his intentions.”

“Is…is that why you’re here?” Emma asked. 

“To find his master, yes,” Killian said. “We suspected that a powerful old vampire was no longer keeping to our laws, and I was dispatched to track them. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for some time. Though I suppose you’ll want me to find other accommodations,” he added regretfully. “Pity; you have some lovely fruit.” 

Emma assumed that was supposed to be an entendre, but when she looked at his expression, she realized that, no, he actually meant fruit. What kind of vampire fed on fruit? “You can stay for now, until you find something better,” Emma offered. “Although, you will have to put up with the Bat Education Program,” she finished apologetically. “Mary Margaret wants to make you the star. But somehow, I don’t think you mind being the center of attention.”

Killian grimaced. “I’ll tolerate it. But only if the children wash their hands,” he growled

“She’s calling you the ‘am-bat-sador,’” Emma warned.

”Bloody hell,” Killian groaned. “But it will help me guard the children. They’re preferred victims of rogue vampires,” he concluded grimly.

A shiver went down her spine, and this time it wasn’t because of his accent.

Something evil was coming to Storybrooke.

~fin~

[xoxobuckybarnes]

October 2024 Stucky Fics

Completed

Realignment (Rated: E, Words: 23K) by sunflower_dragon19 / @amethystkrystal

Summary: After assembling their own Infinity Gauntlet, the Avengers defeated Thanos and brought back everyone who disappeared. But their victory came at a great cost: in order to take the Soul Stone, Steve had to sacrifice the Captain America mantle and all the super-soldier strength that came with it. Small and sickly again, Steve’s poor health soon reaches a breaking point and his last option is a difficult surgery only Shuri and her team can perform. But not all hurts can be fixed with medicine, and the real healing begins after the operation -- when Bucky asks Steve to stay in Wakanda with him.

Natasha Romanoff's Dating Service (Rated: M, Words: 12K) by HMSLusitania / @hmslusitania

Summary: Bucky is just trying to survive his PhD. He does not need strange, unfamiliar undergraduates trying to fix him up with their roommate. He can find a guy on his own. Right?

The Limits of Duty (Rated: E, Words: 71K) words & art by LeeHan / @leehanji

Summary: The Kingdom of Winter is at war with the Kingdom of Hydra. To Steve, it feels they always have been. He spent years fighting in the Winter army and now he's been summoned to the capital, Winter's Heart, to take up a new post as Captain of the Star. The capital is rife with intrigue, from the comings and goings of the whispering footmen, to the dashing and secretive Sergeant Barnes, and the goings on of the Winter Queen and her two children, Princess Rebecca and Prince James. When a delegation arrives from the neighboring Kingdom of Shield and painful secrets are flayed wide open, Steve must face the consequences of his heart's desire and confront the limits of his duty.

the nightmare from which I am trying to awake (Rated: E, Words: 15K) by Speranza / @cesperanza

Summary: "You gotta bring him in, Cap." Tony Stark, distant: on speakerphone. "You can come in to me, or you can go to—well, I don't know who else is left. But you gotta bring him in."

as the leaves are changing (Rated: T, Words: 4K) by dontcallmebree / @dontcallmebree

Summary: The subject of Steve’s love life—or lack thereof—is one Bucky happily revisits on an unusually slow Tuesday afternoon. “You know it’s Washington’s worst-kept secret that you’re gay, right?” Unfazed, Steve slants him a deadpan stare and demolishes the rest of his lunch in a giant, singular bite like some self-imposed muzzle. Regardless, the pointed lift of his eyebrow speaks volumes as to where Steve would tell him to shove it were his mouth not otherwise occupied. Bucky Barnes decides to get his boss a boyfriend, to hell with the politics.

Who's That O? (Rated: T, Words: 12K) by LouiKazooie / @louikazooie

Summary: After going through a rough breakup, awkward and upbeat Steve, an omega, moves in with three single alphas. Intelligent and witty Bucky is a grump who took the bartender off-ramp on his road to success. Some things are just inevitable.

2012 'verse (series) by brenayla / @brenayla

Act of Sage (Rated: M, Words: 64K)

Summary: After the Battle of New York, Steve finds a strange note in his apartment. It’s his handwriting, but he sure as hell would’ve remembered writing this.

blister and burn, baby (Rated: E, Words: 23K)

Summary: Bucky yawns himself awake, stretching out over the arm of the couch. He scratches at his chest and turns his head to Steve. “Why did we mess around and then stop?” “What do you mean?” “You said we messed around when we were kids, then we stopped, then we started again in the war. Why?”

Hearts Don’t Need a Break (I’ll Be Waiting for You) (Rated: E, Words: 4K) by Voylitscope_speed / @voylitscope

Summary: The wonderful but awful thing about having Steve here is that it's perfect. Right this minute, Bucky is lying in his bed and curled into Steve. Everything smells like sex, Bucky's favorite shampoo, and that citrusy soap he keeps in his shower just for Steve. His whole body still feels incredible — unwound and remade — and there are places Steve's touch feels burned to his skin. They're pressed close together, and Steve's smiling one of those smiles that always seem like they're just for Bucky. Bucky would be unbelievably happy about it all if it hadn't been sixty-four days since the last time Steve was here. (Or: Bucky enthusiastically welcomes Steve back after a long absence, and they have a very overdue conversation about their relationship — and their feelings.)

bad idea to think i could stop (Rated: E, Words: 9K) by LolitaBlue

Summary: You give me too much credit," Steve breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not the kind of person to make or break someone's life." He'd never seen Bucky like this- as himself. Being honest and vulnerable and not dancing around his feelings for the sake of keeping his emotions safe. Steve appreciated it but was dizzy from the complete 180, and didn't know what to expect from Bucky moving forward. The only thing he knew for certain was that he'd never been so attracted to another human being in his life. Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug. "Dunno. I'm pretty sure you could make or break mine." ---------- bad love!verse part 3 ***This fic is complete, but the series (bad love!verse) is not***

WIP

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) (Rated: E, Current Words: 66K) by dorian_burberrycanary / @burberrycanary

Summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included. ***Part of the series A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy): The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands) (Rated: G, words: 4K), Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) (Rated: G, Words: 14K), &  Not Language by a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) (Rated: E, Words: 20K)***

Treading Water (Rated: M, Current Words: 239K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace & art by Dyslexic_Fetus (Reagy_Jay) / @reagy-jay

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first. ***Part of the series Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

[youllallriseintheink]

One For All, chapter two

In an AU where the protagonist never fell from the sky, the Survey Corps will have to pull together and make use of every resource at their disposal to face the challenges present in Pokemon: Legends Arceus. There will be surveyshipping.

I expect this story to last three or four chapters- nothing super long or complicated this time.

---

When Cyllene returned to camp, not long before sundown, it was safe to say that the mission had been an unmitigated success. More research subjects had been recovered that day than in any prior week of the Survey Corps' existence, and Laventon would be writing new pokédex entries for days.

"It's beginning to look like the Survey Corps will pull through," Cyllene stated as she stepped into the encampment and looked around at the various specimens- everything from mushroom beetles to living rocks- and at the people interacting with them. Laventon was taking footprint sketches of a rodent-like creature. Rei was stroking the muzzle of a flaming pony. "Survey Corps," she called, turning everyone's attention to her. "You have done well. It is time to pack up and return to the village. Tomorrow the real work begins."

So it did. The next morning, the Survey Corps reported to Cyllene's office. Now that the Survey Corps members had calmed down somewhat about the prospect of being disbandment and Cyllene was somewhat more confident that they could avoid it, Cyllene was able to reveal their circumstances.

"Kamado has given us three weeks to prove our worth. We're going to use that time to map out every corner of the Obsidian Fieldlands- resources, useful trails, the Pokémon that inhabit it, and perhaps even Pokémon that would be useful to take as guides. I began mapping out Windswept Run yesterday to give you an idea of what I expect. All of you but Laventon and myself will be assigned an area to map. If we prove to Kamado that we can do it once, then he'll allow us to do it for every area in Hisui."

The corps accepted their orders and filed out in way that reminded Laventon of loyal soldiers.

"And what about us?" Laventon asked.

"Desk work. Study the specimens and work on the pokédex. I want to see its updates on my desk at the end of every day. It will be the most important resource for the field guide."

"Alrighty, then. Let's get to it!"

Cyllene gave him a stiff nod, and Laventon returned to his conjoined office.

A few hours later, Cyllene knocked on the doorframe.

Laventon looked up from entries he was writing.

"Yes?"

"I'm mapping out the horseshoe plains. Do you have any information on the temperament of ponyta? Are they aggressive? Territorial?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know. We have a form of them in Galar, but not ones on fire! Their temperament very well could be entirely different from the ones I know."

"Understood. It will be something to ask the other survey corps members to investigate. And soon, we'll have to have a meeting to discuss the knowledge you gathered on your travels and in Galar."

"You know, you can just ask me about my travels! You don't need to feign a reason."

Cyllene looked away. "...Noted. But I am serious about putting your prior knowledge to work."

Days passed. Cyllene often popped in to ask about the abilities and temperaments of various Pokémon. Far from being a disruption, Laventon relished an opportunity to talk about his discoveries. He'd enjoyed the research he'd done throughout the years regardless of who he could share it with or what he thought its impact would be, but he'd never felt the direct impact of his studies so strongly before! And he did notice when Cyllene asked questions out of interest rather than necessity.

The three weeks came to an end, and the Obsidian Fieldlands guide was, if not complete, at least viable.

"I think will prove our worth," Cyllene said as she and Laventon gave the guide one last look over. The next day, it was to be delivered to Kamado's office, and the fate of the Survey Corps would be decided.

"I do hope so," Laventon said. "Do you want me to stay behind? I know that Kamado doesn't exactly, erm..." Laventon let himself trail off. Cyllene would know what he meant. Kamado was suspicious of outsiders. It was just who he was.

Cyllene paused and weighed their options. "No," she decided. "Avoiding him will only mean that nothing will change."

Strange lightening from the rift arced through the sky that night. But by now, Cyllene and Laventon were used to the unstable time-space of Hisui.

The following afternoon, the two made their way to Kamado's office to find clan leaders Adaman and Irida already there, the latter looking quite distressed.

"What's going on?" Cyllene asked.

Adaman gave Irida a scornful look. "Apparently the Pearl Clan doesn't take the time to look after its nobles and now it's causing a mess."

Irida's teeth clenched. "This has nothing to do with us! We might have no idea what happened to it or what to do about it, but neither do you!"

Kamado sighed and faced Cyllene. "The Pearl Clan's noble kleavor is rampaging. It seems to be afflicted with a supernatural frenzy. And neither the Pearl Clan nor the Diamond Clan want to kill the something sacred to them or sacred to a clan they have an unsteady alliance with." He turned back to the clan leaders. "You need an impartial third party to kill the rampaging beast? Very well. We'll send the Security Corps to kill it."

Irida clasped her hands over her mouth. "Kill it? It's not its fault that whatever this is is happening to it! And it's spent its life making the forests safer for us. We don't want it dead."

"Very well. I suppose we could have the Survey Corps scout out an alternative." Kamado looked to Cyllene. "You have your orders. I'll look over your guide as well, but if you are able to find an alternate solution to the frenzied noble, you will have proven the Survey Corps' worth beyond doubt."

"Understood," Cyllene said. The Survey Corps was gathered and marched to Pearl Clan territory within the hour.

-

Within the Grandtree Arena, Lord Kleavor raged. Bathed in gold light and filled with pain and energy, it dashed about, running into trees and rocks and thrashing its heavy axes- axes that were still wet from its last victim's blood.

"Release the spores," Cyllene commanded from the edge of the Grandtree Arena. Her staravia, along with the bird Pokémon of the two survey corps members at her side, each took a paras in their talons and flew over the rampaging lord, dusting it with sleep powders and stun spores in hopes of rendering it immobile. It barely seemed to slow the creature down.

"Plan B," Cyllene yelled. She and the other members returned their Pokémon. Cyllene then threw out her kadabra, which set up reflect- a shield that would hopefully allow them to get close enough to the kleavor to stop it.

The three members slid down the rockface and began throwing balms at kleavor. It took immediate notice and rammed itself towards them only to bounce off of the reflect shield. It rammed again and the shield began to crack.

"Backup!" Cyllene called out, still throwing balms along with her allies. Another three Survey Corps members slid down the opposing side of the rock face. There wasn't much they could do aside from throw balms as well.

With a third smash, the reflect broke. The survey crops members scattered. The six regrouped and Cyllene's kadabra put up another reflect. This time, the kleavor smacked into it head-first and fell backwards, dazed. Rei took out his dartrix to distract it with a battle as the other members threw balms. Finally, the golden glow lifted off the kleavor, leaving a normally-coloured and much calmer creature.

"That was close," Rei said.

"Yes," Cyllene conceded. "We'll have to strategize a bit more should there be another situation like this."

The Pokémon approached the six and handed them a strange green-coloured plate. Rei took it. He hardly had time to contemplate it, however, as Irida, Lian, and Laventon approached. he tucked it into his bag and turned his attention to the approaching people.

"What was that?" Irida asked. "It seems like Lord Kleavor lost its aggression when the light left it. So the lightening from the rift really is the cause of all this... At any rate, thank you. Without you, our only options would have been to let our lord and protector continue to be a danger or to-" Irida looked over to her lord and shook her head. "Thank you."

"No need," replied Cyllene, "It is to everyone's benefit that we keep Hisui a safe place for everyone, and that we avoid conflicts between you and the Diamond clan. There is a way that you can repay us, however."

"And what is that?" Irida said.

"The Pearl Clan has lived here for generations. You have knowledge of the Pokémon here that we don't. Share it with us. It may even help us in any further incidents such as this."

"Oh! Sure. Gladly."

"See me in my office tomorrow morning. We have much to discuss."

With that, the Survey Corps started back for camp and then Jubilife.

"Excellent work today," Laventon said, hurrying to the front of the line to catch up with Cyllene. "I took as many photos as I could of your conflict. If this doesn't show Jubilife Village that we're doing Hisui a service, well, nothing will!"

"Yes," Cyllene stated. "There will be much to discuss with Kamado tonight on a possible alliance with the Pearl Clan. Such a discussion would be incomplete without the leaders of essentially every Corps- agriculture, gathering, security, and potentially medical since a full overlap of our medical knowledge is unlikely. But our worth is proven. I'll be sure to let Kamado know that you were the one to come up with the balms."

"Wonderful! That will warm him right up to me! At least, I do hope it does."

"Indeed."

-

Basculegion motored towards the shore of Ginko Landing, stopped sharply, and launched the riding Laventon onto shore, leaving him to wipe out face-first in the sand.

"Oof..." Iscan said, approaching Laventon and helping him up. "I hope that handling the frenzied noble went a bit smoother than that."

Laventon got up and dusted himself off as basculegion headed back to Firespit Island to retrieve his fellow Survey Corps members. "It certainly did!" he assured Iscan. "My commander even approved that I lead this mission, since our usual captain was out sick. I wasn't the one doing the fighting or the planning, but I did have a few Pokemon and some guidance to contribute."

"It sounds like you're on your way up, then... Is there anything we can do to repay you?"

"Well..." Laventon said, his face beginning to flush as he thought of the Security Corps couple he'd met the previous day. "There is a reason that I asked to be brought back first. There's this friend of mine that I think fancies me. But she's kept me at such a distance that until recently, I thought there was some unspoken rule against dating someone from your corps. Do you think I should say something? What with you and Palina, I thought you'd be the one to ask."

"Hm... Absolutely. I mean, Palina and I made it work even though we're forbidden from seeing each other. If she hadn't spoken up... well, we'd both still be pining and putting up walls. Even if the answer is 'no,' or 'yes, but let's not pursue it,' it's better to know, I think."

Laventon thought that over. By now he knew that there were a few people- namely Kamado and Zisu- that Cyllene wasn't entirely aloof with. And both he and Cyllene seemed to want him on that list. Maybe once they'd talked about it, he could be. And if not, he'd at least know to give up trying. "Yes, I think you're right!" he said.

-

The next day, Laventon asked Cyllene to finally have that talk with him about his travels. While waiting for her at their planned meeting place at the Wallflower, Laventon took a moment to appreciate the changes that had come upon Jubilife since his arrival. The occasional harmless Pokémon roamed the streets now, as they had in other lands he visited. And where there were once only the sounds of people training in the training grounds, there were now animalistic cries as well, now that the Security Corps and the Survey Corps had embraced Pokémon as a means of defence. Given the direction she was coming from, that may have been where Cyllene was coming from.

"I brought a surprise," Laventon said as Cyllene sat down.

"Oh?"

"Close your eyes," Laventon said.

Cyllene obeyed. Laventon took a wurmple out of a ball and onto his hand.

"Alright, open up."

Cyllene opened her eyes and immediately tensed. "Is there a reason for this?" she demanded, eyes focused on the bug. Laventon hesitated, and Cyllene took a careful scooch back, trying to balance between keeping the appearance of composure and keeping away from that thing.

"Well, it's... ready to evolve, and you said just recently that you'd never seen an evolution before your kadabra. I thought you might want to watch another. It's certainly a different experience than just reading about it in reports! Is there something wrong with that?"

Cyllene's nervous eyes were still on the bug. "We had those in Hoenn. They feed on our crops and on the intestines of anyone unlucky enough to contract one. All research on them should be done in the field. Not here."

"What...? With respect, captain, that's nonsense. Wurmple are insectitarians. They eat the eggs and larva of other species. That's probably why you see them around plants other bugs like to eat, and in unsanitary places that cause disease. Wurmple are harmless as they come."

Cyllene relaxed. Not entirely, but somewhat. "I... see."

"Shall we watch it evolve, then?" Laventon asked as the worm crawled up onto his neck like a scarf.

"...Let's take this to my quarters."

And so, they did. Laventon had never been in Cyllene’s quarters before. He didn’t know what he expected, but a room overflowing with indoor plants wasn’t it. There were more herbs, flowers, berries, and vegetables in there than there was paperwork in her office, and that was saying something. Cyllene moved a couple planters out of the way and led Laventon to a table. She cast a sour look at the worm and hesitantly gave it a pet. When the two were seated, Cyllene gave Laventon a stiff nod.

Laventon took the worm off his neck and passed on the nod. A sparkling flash of transformation later, the worm had turned into a cacoon- a white one, thankfully- Laventon couldn't have a toxic moth around so many well-tended plants and still have Cyllene as a friend afterward. Another flash, and the cacoon had turned into a beautiful beautifly.

"Hm. That was indeed more of an experience than reading about evolution in reports," Cyllene admitted, twitching as the beautifly began to inspect her face with its trunk. "Laventon," she said, her voice betraying a little fear. "Put it away."

Laventon chuckled and returned the creature. "You gave it your best effort."

Cyllene flushed.

"You would have hated Alola. It's just crawling with bug types! There were quite a few areas where we had to wear nets to gather specimens. Not that it wasn't worth it! It's a warm and beautiful place, some of my favourite memories come from there!"

“That’s where rowlet came from, correct? Mind if I ask about the others?”

“Not at all, so long as I can ask a few questions myself."

"Very well. We'll take turns."

"Alrighty then! So, what was your life like before Hisui?"

"I'd rather not say."

That made Laventon feel pretty stupid. She was a swordswoman from Hoenn. Chances were she'd been in the war. "Ah. Okay. Well, then, how did you manage to track an abra? They certainly aren't an easy species to track, even injured ones."

"I didn't find it by tracking. But I do think you'll be interested in its story. It was shortly after the first time-space distortion opened. We didn't know what they were at the time and had closed our walls in fear of it. A visitor from another region had locked himself outside, chasing after an injured Pokémon. And thank goodness for that visitor."

At this point, kadabra floated over and, despite nearly being Cyllene's size and barely fitting, curled up on her lap.

"I led the Security Corps to investigate the distortion and search for the visitor. He joined up with us for a while, but ran off again. After Pokémon. It was frustrating. But then a Pokémon he knew in childhood saved his life. I understood then that understanding Pokémon would help make Hisui hospitable, so I ordered that we take back a few that had been injured by the distortion. It cost us almost nothing, pleased our visitor, and gave me a small opportunity to know Pokémon better than I had. It’s from that event that I decided to create the Survey Corps. The injured Pokémon included Abra. It simply never left me after that."

“Well, then thank goodness for that visitor,” Laventon said, stroking the kadabra.

“Where did you get Cyndiquill?”

Laventon’s heart rate picked up. Somehow it seemed a bad idea to let her know he’d worked for Jhoto during wartime. Not for anything military-related, but still! “Well, I, er- I hardly remember! I take on a lot of research subjects, after all!”

Cyllene gave him a blank look that told him that he seemed a lot more suspicious than he would have liked. "Fair enough. Your turn."

"Well, if it's not too personal... is there a Mr. Cyllene?"

"No. I will focus on that once the nobles are quelled and the Survey Corps takes less of my time. Perhaps I'll be with someone from the Security Corps, or division that has little to do with ours, such as agriculture."

"Ah, I see. No time to seek someone out. Well, um, captain..." Laventon stroked the kadabra again and let his hand find Cyllene's. "What if there was no need to do any seeking?"

Cyllene took her hand away. "No, Laventon. That isn't a good idea."

"Oh. Okay. Friends, then. Right?"

Cyllene hesitated. It occurred to Laventon that she might find even that too familiar for a close co-worker. "...Friends," she conceded.

Months passed. Lands were explored, one more noble was quelled, and an alliance was formed with the Diamond Clan. Meanwhile, time-space became increasingly unstable, and the rift in the sky grew ever-wider.

[kittygamer2888]

Time.exe

[Lil' summary]

Story:

One day, Sonic was just minding his own business, running around, seeing his friends, and of course, stopping whatever scheme Dr. Robotnik had planned.

One fateful day, however, things wouldn't be the same once Sonic discovered a strange purple clock on top of a hill. Tails tried his best to research the clock, but there was nothing. They assumed the clock could just be a normal one and thought nothing of it. So when it was getting late, Tails and Sonic decided to sleep in the night, leaving the clock in Tails' workshop. But as they were sleeping, the clock suddenly disappeared and reappeared next to Sonic, as well as a shadow-like figure that would loom towards Sonic and eventually start possessing him.

The next day, Tails would go to Sonic only to find him gone right away. This was normal for Tails since he thinks Sonic went running around other places again.

After a few hours, Tails would begin to worry as he hadn't seen Sonic all day, not only that, but he noticed the clock went missing as well as soon as he went to his workshop, so Tails would go and start finding Sonic. As soon as Tails opens the exit from his workshop, he sees Sonic but with a much more different look. But what Tails noticed more was his eyes. His black void eyes looked so lifeless he thought Sonic was missing them due to the blood pouring out of his eyes. Tails started to think if this was even Sonic at all as he slowly started to back away in fear until he brought out his arm cannon, shaking.

This thing then started to walk closer to Tails as a smile creeped its way on his muzzle, the red pupils staring right back at the frightened fox.

Tails struggled to fire the cannon, so he ran for his life and looked for the nearest window to get out of the workshop, and eventually, Tails would successfully get out of the workshop and flew away with his 2 tails as fast as he could to get away. He needed to warn everyone, but right as he was getting away, he was instantly pulled back, someone yanking his 2 tails and throwing him on the ground, hard. Tails looked up, only to see the same floating figure that was taking control of Sonic. Tails would point his arm cannon shakingly to the figure, tears formed in his eyes as he hesitated, because, after all... this is still Sonic here. Sonic's body was being used, he assumed. So, if his body took damage, it would be a permanent scar for Sonic. Meanwhile, it would probably heal easily for this creature possessing him, but that was only speculation as he wasn't sure, and he didn't want to risk accidentally hurting Sonic in the process, so he just watched with widened, trembling eyes as he looked at the being in utter terror.

The being floated to Tails, he looked like he was going to attack until, suddenly, Sonic was fighting control over the body and shouted at Tails to get away. The being takes control again but with a struggle as he was currently fighting with Sonic inside. Once the being was distracted, Tails did as he was told, he ran. He ran as fast and far away as he could.

Once the demon had enough of struggling for control, he thought it would be a good idea and hit himself; stabbing himself with his own fist to the chest. Since this was Sonic's body the demon was using, only Sonic could feel this pain. So, as it happened, Sonic was unconscious and was now losing the last strains of control he had left, and now letting the demon take over completely.

The demon would mess around with his powers and alter the environment around him. The sky was bloody red, and the sun was grey. The grass and the trees, even the little animals, were all grey scaled except for the characters who were alive. Parts of the ground were lifted up as platforms. This reached its way on to where Tails was hiding as well.

and as Tails was hiding, it was only a matter of time before Time.exe's search would begin.

[End of story].

HEHDHDHFRJEJJDJJJR-

Well, there you guys go, ig👍

Note that I just copy-pasted this from my Time.exe wiki from the Sonic.exe amino, but yea, I did write the story. Idk if I'll be changing the story a bit, but this is how it is so far.

I also edited a few stuffs since Amino's being a pain and won't let me enter my wikis, so I had to resort in google Chrome to copy-paste it, and it actually worked, wo a h! :0

[redwineconversation]

Olympique Lyonnais Behind the Scenes (Episode 6)

Kind of like last month's segment, I didn't want to do this one either because of how annoying fucking stans are. They genuinely make me want to not translate / transcribe things because they have an inability to just take a step back and act like a normal human being / football fan. However, I also want [normal?] people to get to a point where they can understand this team the way I do, so it leads us to this: me screaming into the void at how much I hate stans overstepping boundaries while I translate a genuine cause of sleep paralysis.

Again, I feel this would be simpler if OLPlay would let one screen record and my technology skills were better, but here we are. Can't have everything in life.

Blah blah standard disclaimers apply; @OL Comms Dept either chip in for Starbucks or a bottle of wine, I'm cool with either option; banning stans from stadiums would make the sport a better place; what won't I do to put off vacuuming? Apparently not much; y'all know the speech by now.

Come for Cascarino being unable to hide her Lyon DNA, stay for Becho's admiration of the likable red team. Love a team who literally recoils in horror at the thought of being seen as human. It's not that Lyon creates monsters, they honestly don't. The players were already monsters before they signed for Lyon, the only thing Lyon did was take the muzzle off.

OLYMPIQUE LYONNAIS BEHIND THE SCENES (EPISODE 6)

[LYON -SLAVIA PRAGUE GAME FOOTAGE]

Danielle van de Donk: We had a draw against Slavia Prague at home as well. It was a bit frustrating, it was just not nice for us because we wanted to get into a nice flow.

Vicki Becho: It's not the kind of performance we want to do, it's not the kind of result we want. So it was disappointing for us, for our fans. It's the type of performance we have to keep in mind to tell ourselves there are still lots of things to work on, and that we have to do much more.

[OPENING SEQUENCE]

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE]

Delphine Cascarino: After the draw against Slavia Prague, we wanted to do much better, and then we played against Reims. There was good content in the game.

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: I was really happy for Euge[nie Le Sommer] because she was going through a complicated period and that she scored, I was really, really happy for her. I remember Eugenie's brace because I provided the assist on one of her goals. Having playing time again, getting some minutes under my belt, it was the best of things. And in that game, when I provided the assist, I'm happy. That's what I take away from it. Beyond that, I told myself that I can do much better and those are just the kind of performances I should keep in mind to do even more.

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

van de Donk: Eugenie [Le Sommer] scored her 300th goal, so that was amazing for her. And I saw the people in the stands with the little paper going up. Everyone on the bench was asking what that was for, I think it was Laura [Benkarth] and I explained to her that she [Le Sommer] had 300 goals for Lyon, which is just amazing. It's great, they're so much more up to date than I am. They're actually very helpful.

Cascarino: Obviously - obviously we were happy for Eugenie [Le Sommer] because she deserves that status of top scorer for Olympique Lyonnais. And yeah, I hope she will score many more. It's quite frankly exceptional for her and the club. It shows that she's really a club legend.

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Cascarino: There was a good context within the game. However we conceded a goal, so that was - that was a negative.

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Cascarino: Conceding a goal is never easy, be it for the goalkeeper or even for the forwards. We owe it to ourselves at Olympique Lyonnais to not concede any goals.

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: We won, but it remains super frustrating because we've been conceding quite a lot lately. At the beginning of the season we weren't conceding at all. Lately we've been conceding more. We need to do better. We know our previous performances haven't been that good, we need to do better in terms of defense, and offensively we need to do much better.

[LYON - STADE DE REIMS GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: At the end of the game, when I saw Eugenie, I said to her "Another one? Another record? How am I supposed to catch up to you?" [Becho laughs. I don't] No, I really like to tease Eugenie. I'm really happy for her. She leaves such a big imprint at Lyon and even in French women's football, and global women's football. And I know that for many girls, she's a role model.

van de Donk: After the game, in the locker room, we celebrated of course with the song and everything. We did a little bit extra for Eugenie [Le Sommer], of course, because it's just amazing to achieve that.

[TRAINING FOOTAGE]

[UWCL DRAW FOOTAGE]

Cascarino: So there was the possibility between Benfica, Ajax and Hacken. We landed on Benfica, who is a really good team. So yeah, we know it won't be easy. They drew 4-4 against Barcelona. So we're expecting a really good opponent.

Becho: They can cause problems for us, so we will need to avoid falling into their trap. We'll need to play really good football to get past them. I would have liked to have played against Ajax, I see what they're doing this season and honestly it's incredible. They manage to sell out their stadium, they're doing a lot of things. So they're a really good team that I wanted to play against. In any case, to win this competition we have to beat the best.

van de Donk: I do think Benfica is like very tricky, they're all very technical players. I feel it's just like the Portuguese team. As we experienced it lately with the Netherlands, they're quite hard. But yeah, I'm just very excited. I mean, they're kind of my style of football so I love to see them play, now I have to play against them. They want to keep possession all the time, they have all the skills. It's just going to be frustrating, but we're just not going to have to bite, you know. And then get them when they're the most - I don't know how you say it - when they're the most vulnerable?

van de Donk: The thing is, when you build it from the back, that's kind of my quality, coming out with the press[ing]. I know when to go, so when people do it, it's fine for me. But I do think that Lyon has a good press. It's kind of our game.

[MICHELE KANG FOOTAGE]

Cascarino: Honestly, it was positive than it ended - that it became official, but unofficially we knew that the club had been sold to Michele Kang, so it was just formalities that needed to be sorted out. Now it's done and we can move forward with peace of mind.

Becho: We talked about it a lot. We heard a lot of people talking about it as well. But as long as it wasn't done, we couldn't look ahead as much as we can now. And now we have peace of mind. We know there is someone there for us, we know there is someone who wants us to have the best possible conditions. We know our future is set, so there aren't any worries in that regard. We're very happy on our side.

Becho: She hadn't even officially taken over her role and she was already doing a lot for us. We saw the number of staff members increase. A lot of things changed. For the better, but with the caveat President Aulas had already done an enormous amount for us. Knowing there will be this person going forward, it was reassuring for us.

Cascarino: Since Michele Kang's arrival, there has been a lot of positive changes. There's almost as many staff members as there are players. So it shows we're becoming even more professional. We're getting even closer to what is done for the men's teams. So it's really positive for Olympique Lyonnais. In every area, whether it's nutrition, fitness preparation, psychology, mental health, in every area, if there's any doubt then we have someone we can ask questions to. It really helps us to reach the highest level.

van de Donk: We were kept up to date with how the process was going with Michele [Kang] buying our side, of course. Because as soon as she stepped foot in our changing room, when I met her, I was blown away by her. I think she's amazing. She's going to do very, very good stuff for women's football. So yeah, I'm a big fan, not going to lie. When I heard it was done, it was just a nice feeling. I think we're in good hands.

van de Donk: She's so involved with the women's side. She was already making so many changes for us. You can tell that she wants things to be better and bigger, which is really nice for the next steps of professionalism in women's football. When it was all done, because everything in France takes a while I think, I think it was very good. I was very happy.

[TRAINING FOOTAGE]

Becho: You're not allowed to lose a Lyon - PSG game. You're not allowed to lose. Those are the types of games we like to play, those are the types of games we want to play.

Cascarino: We know that PSG knows us by heart, we know them by heart. So it really comes down to tactics to win the game. We worked really hard in preparation for PSG. We worked really, really hard on tactics that week.

van de Donk: Every time we play against PSG, it's just - it's wild. I think everyone goes into a different mindset. I think everyone is just a little bit more focused because the rivalry, it's just amazing. It's just a different kind of level, everyone just really wanted to beat them.

van de Donk: Before the big games, we do a lot of tactical training during training sessions [news to anyone who has watched Bompastor coach recently]. It's not necessarily my favorite part of training sessions, but I like all the small stuff, all the small games, the technical stuff. But I do think we need all the tactical stuff. But it was good. You can taste what kind of game you're going to play or something. It's hard to describe how it is if you're not a player yourself. But normally you have a whole week to prepare. So the beginning of the week it's a bit more chill, a bit more jokey, we can have a bit more of a laugh during training. But before PSG it's just not like that, everyone is focused, "we need to get this and go."

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE]

Cascarino: It was a pretty close game, pretty difficult.

Becho: We started the game off well. We started really strong, we managed to press pretty high, we're in their half. We had chances.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: As time went by our level dropped, we weren't pressing as much, there was a slower reaction time. We weren't unified. We were a little - how to say this - we were late in the press, and it could be felt. The team opposite us starts to gain the upper hand over us.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

van de Donk: Obviously they have a good team, super fast wingers. On the midfield, I feel they just overload us. The attackers are dropping into the midfield so we're having to play four or five against three. It's going to get complicated if we don't do the defending very well.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Cascarino: It was pretty frustrating to see that we weren't able to do it.

van de Donk: They had one long ball on Chawinga. It's complicated because she's just super fast. It was outside of the foot, I remember. So it was actually a very good goal, but it's just hard. Don't allow them anything and you give one long ball away and it's goal.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: For the whole game we didn't give them any opportunities, and that's - that's the top level. If we let them have one opportunity, we'll pay for it. We told ourselves that we had done everything not to concede that goal, but yeah. We conceded. So now we have to switch on.

van de Donk: No, losing is just not an option for us. There's certain players on the team who make sure we're not losing. They keep the standards very high and whenever we need to be picked up, they will pick us up. I think it was kind of an equal game, like both parties were in the "gray, but not bad". It was just a bit of a weird phase in the game. Luckily, when Delph[ine Cascarino] came in, she changed the game so, so much.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Cascarino: I felt that the team needed help in that moment and was losing 1-0, so you have to take risks. You really can't hesitate to go into a challenge, and press for a goal.

Becho: I think it's harder to come on when the team is behind, because you don't have the same way to react. When you're losing, you want to do everything quickly, you want to score, you want to equalize. When I came on, I said to myself it will come from us, the substitutes. The game was at a bit of a stalemate. You have to bring something extra to the team. They have to feel like we are there for them, that they can count on us, that we're a relief.

Cascarino: It wasn't easy to come into the game, especially a game like that with so much intensity. But I owed it to myself to give it my best for the team.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: Delphine [Cascarino], when she comes on, we know what she is capable of. The opponent knows it too. But I don't think they were expecting her to do it so quickly and at that moment. Delphine got the ball and she did what she had to do, what she knows to do.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Cascarino: Well in that moment I felt there weren't really any solutions because they were defending well, really, really well. They're playing one-on-ones. I could feel when I got the ball PSG as hesitating. So I took advantage of it and faked passing in order to dribble past some players. Then I put in a strong cross. I said to myself "it doesn't matter, Ada [Hegerberg] is a little behind." But I put weight on it anyway. And she managed to get the defender off balance enough to put the ball at the back of the net.

Cascarino: At that moment we - you're not thinking. You're acting on instinct. I saw there was a small amount of space. I scampered into it and it paid off. Sometimes it doesn't work, it depends. It depends on the situation. It depends on a lot of things.

van de Donk: Delph[ine Cascarino] did this trick with her leg, it was crazy. She runs with the ball. She's super fast, first of all. It's hard to keep up with her. And then she does stuff with her leg in the air, and she keeps going and goes past you. It's just done.

Cascarino: It made me happy in the moment to have been at the origin, if we can call it that, of the equalizing goal. But I was still disappointed with the final result because we didn't win the game.

[LYON - PSG GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: We weren't able to put forth the style of play that we wanted, but we didn't lose and that's what we should take away from it.

[OLPLAY STUDIO ANALYSIS]

van de Donk: I had no idea where Montauban was, it was a bit of a shock. It was quite far as well. But it was a cool game to be fair, I think they had a good crowd going on.

Becho: The away trip to Montauban, it reminded me a little of the away trips when I was young. You could tell the crowd was family-leaning.

Cascarino: Montbaunan was playing the game of their lives. It was good, the crowd was really pushing them to play well, so it was nice, we like those sorts of games.

[MONTAUBAN - LYON GAME FOOTAGE]

van de Donk: Games like that, they always start off a bit weird because the pitch is not as good, the opponent is fired up because they're fired up because they're playing against Lyon. They always go the extra mile, I would say, a bit harder in tackles and everything.

Cascarino: We gave ourselves a fright at the start. Unfortunately I gave away a penalty. I think it was the first time in my career.

[MONTAUBAN - LYON GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Cascarino: Maybe subconsciously there was a little bit of carelessness. Maybe a bit of tiredness as well. The month of February is never easy physically. So maybe that's why there was a bit of a drop-off.

van de Donk: I think we're just very patient as a team. Instead of killing them straight away, I think we're like "get into the game first, play our game, and then the goals will come". In the end that was true, but the second half was more easy.

[MONTAUBAN - LYON GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: It was nice but in that moment, I wasn't thinking that- I was frustrated. Like I said, we've been conceding more goals lately, and it's something that I really hate. We are Lyon, and we - I want no team to think they can beat us or even think to themselves that we tossed them a bone or that they got something from us. No. We can't let them have anything. So I was frustrated to have conceded that goal.

[MONTAUBAN - LYON GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

van de Donk: Yeah, everything is a bit harder, it's a bit always - when you start the game, then after five minutes you know what kind of game it's going to be or how they are exactly. But that's why they are a bit more hard. I think it's a bit more difficult but very exciting always.

Becho: In the end, when you could see even the substitutes, Eugenie [Le Sommer] come on, Ada [Hegerberg] come on. We know we're a team where you can count on everybody.

Cascarino: Yes, the second half was much better and the goals kept coming.

[MONTAUBAN - LYON GAME FOOTAGE CONT'D]

Becho: After that, we were really happy to see Alyssia [Paljevic - former Lyon academy goalkeeper, best known for being the same height as Selma Bacha], who used to play with us. We were happy as well because we qualified for the semifinal.

[MONTAUBAN - LYON POSTGAME FOOTAGE]

van de Donk: Before the game I saw Alyssia, our little goalie from last year. I think she's amazing, she's such a good kid. So it was really nice to see her but I could tell in her eyes that she was a little bit down. I figured it's because she didn't start the game. But for her it was really nice, she came on so she could play against her old club. She's just amazing, I love her.

[INTERNATIONAL BREAK]

Becho: We're leaving for the international break.

Cascarino: First of all I really happy to be called up by the head coach. It was really nice for me to go back to the French National Team and play in my city [Lyon] as well. So it's really a pleasure for me to play in the Groupama Stadium. And yeah, we were really happy to have won.

Becho: In the final, we were playing against Spain. They were playing at home. We know that in that moment we have an entire stadium against us. But it's okay, we tell ourselves it's a final, it's the League of Nations. We have to win it. They were better than us, we're not going to hide it. They had a better game plan than us, we tried to play with what we had.

Cascaarino: They played really well tactically. They really moved the ball around, they really lulled us. And yeah, we know it, it's the style of play that they have and it worked. Unfortunately for us we weren't able to impose our style of play and, yeah. I came on as a substitute. It was complicated to come on in that type of game, especially when we were down 2-0. We weren't able to get any goals back.

Cascarino: Now we are ready for the month of March and we hope we will win everything in the month.

[wisteria-blooms]

long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (14/15)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

CHAPTER 14: Aided by two drinks too many, you dig into Bill's heart to gauge how he feels about something you've been thinking about - matrimony and who he'd favour for it . 5.1k words. TAG LIST moved to the bottom! Let me know if you'd like to be tagged or if I've missed you.

A/N: How... did we get here already. I feel like the last chapter is going to be dialogue-heavy to tie up all the loose ends so this one was good practice. Thank you everyone for reading, and leaving a comment! Seriously makes my day to get a notif during work with a comment of someone stumbling onto this baby I've nestled since February.

"Hush, I know they said the end is near. I'm still on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love, shining just for you."

CHAPTER 14: MATTERS OF MATRIMONY (A MILE AWAY)

In a room full of family, one thing rang true: Malfoys, in addition to perpetual winners and never-criers, were also functional drunks. Malfoys weren’t slobbery, embarrassing drunks, but very truthful and sentimental drunks. Phrases like “Rosie, I’m glad you chose a different designer because you looked very much like an expensive cream puff at last year’s wedding” flowed like water. Anyway, it turned out that, through lineage, you were no exception to the rule.

Your current state was punctuated by the wine that never stopped flowing the rest of the night. In fact, there were enchantments to keep your glasses full of the best wine your Uncle Theodore’s money could buy and pay the caterer. Every time the meniscus on the crystal glass dipped too low, your cup magically rose to where it should’ve been had it never touched your lips. And it was a shame it went like honey down your throat.

“Have you done the math, Bill?” You pointed to the 600-galleon bottle of Petrus on display at the centre table. Bill shook his head, so you explained. “It works out to 150 galleons per glass, 30 galleons a sip.”

“Have you just done the calculation?” he asked. “It’s impressive if you did.”

“As kids, practicing arithmetic,” you stopped and corrected yourself, “not drinking it that young, of course. Just doing the math.”

As the night progressed, things got hazier and hazier. It felt nice to finally let loose, say things unabashedly and without the muzzle that was a social filter. You were always on the lookout for Bill, who was sometimes beside you but otherwise preoccupied talking to your father or some other family members. You even congratulated Genevieve who told you she was grateful you were here. To be fair, it wasn’t you or her talking—it was the alcohol that spurred the camaraderie. You met Maxime, though his features were all blurring into one tall, blonde blob and you didn’t even remember what you’d said, but he was pleasant.

At this current point in time, the fairy lights up ahead were beginning to look like a blur, like you’d permanently crossed your eyes. You were twirling Charlotte—or was it Clara?—around to the music on the slope of land overlooking the sea. They weren’t twins, just born two years apart, but they looked very much alike. There was less people on the floor than before, and you were betting on staying here until your youngest cousins were swept by Aunt Rosamund.

“To be young again!” you exclaimed, watching your youngest cousin nimbly twirl on the floor.

“You’re only six years older than me!” Charlotte or Clara retorted with a shake of her head, her wild blonde hair flapping about.

“I pray you never reach my age,” you said. “There’s so much shit to think about and it’s bloody confusing.”

“What’s there to think about?” she questioned earnestly.

“Just wait until you reach my age,” said a voice.

You spun around and came face-to-face with a familiar chest. “Bill!” you exclaimed, a warm tingle arising in your chest, and fell towards him. He caught you by the hands. You looked up at him with a lopsided smile. “Where’ve you been?”

“Looking for you. Thought it was easier with the thinning crowds.”

“Where is everyone?” You looked around, your hand still firmly in his hand. “Draco, Astoria, mum, dad?”

“They went home.”

“Without me?” you gasped dramatically.

“They said you were having too much fun, so I was tasked to bring you back safe and sound,” Bill said. Then he raised an arm and prompted you to twirl around. “That is, unless you want to dance the rest of the night away.”

“Is it that time already?” you asked, facing him again when you’d finished spinning. “Then I think it’s best to leave before we’re the last ones here.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “There’s a carriage down the steps waiting for us.”

“Bye, sweet, dear, cousin of mine.” You embraced who you realized was Clara. She was a little more reserved of the two and asked less invasive questions.

“Bye, (Y/N),” she responded in a whisper, her hands lightly pressed on your back. “I hope it’s your wedding I go to next. I’m sure you’ll have a much better dance floor.”

“We’ll dance until the next morning,” you promised.

Then you skittered to keep up with Bill, leaving the faint chatter and last round of drinks behind you. You began descending the stone steps, leading to the shore where your carriage would be parked. It would’ve been completely dark if it weren’t for the dainty little lamps in the flowery bushes providing light. This, along with your impacted coordination, made you prone to tumbling down and face planting on the cement. Hence, you were very cautious with your steps. It was hard though, because your high heels had progressively blistered your feet throughout the night, and your heels felt like they were on fire.

Bill noticed your awkward gait and stopped on the step in front of you. “You’re going to break an ankle,” he remarked.

“My feet hurt,” you whined. “I very much abhor these shoes.” And then came the first flow of liquid courage. “I only wore them because you’re so tall.”

Bill laughed, then crouched down slightly and patted his thighs. “I’ll take you down the steps.”

Your eyes lit up. You couldn’t pass up a free ride. “Really?”

“If you broke an ankle, I’d have failed my task of getting you home safely.”

“Say no more, I’m already convinced.”

You looped your arms around his shoulders and jumped up on his back. Bill’s hands were securely holding onto the back of your thighs. He felt sturdy and infallible. You adjusted yourself to get comfortable—which included happily planting your chin on his shoulders and burying your nose in his soft hair. You accidentally let out an happy groan as you nestled in.

“Did you have a pleasant night?” you asked as he began moving.

“Of course.”

You stroked the material of his suit jacket and murmured in appraisal, “My changed man of a father actually did a fair job with you. I would’ve chosen the same thing for you.”

“I suppose a wedding’s a very special event,” Bill responded.

“Have you been to a lot of weddings?”

“Yes,” he said. “I have a lot of extended family. There’s at least four weddings a year.”

“I feel like Genevieve is going to pave the way for a slew of cousin marriages,” you said. “Claude next, then Draco, then probably Charlotte then Clara.”

“And where are you in this?” Bill asked.

“I’ll end up last. I’ll be a haggard old witch by the time a man gets on his knee for me, only because we’d both be dying and he can’t stand anymore,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. You poked your head at Bill, nose just inches away from his cheek. “Have you ever thought of getting married?” you queried, then quickly added: “Don’t these kinds of events make you wish for it?”

Bill paused for a moment, his body stiffening and the corner of his lip tightening slightly. “I think about it more often that I’m older, but I can’t be rushed into it.”

You cocked your head. “Who’s rushing you?”

“The same person who’s rushing you.”

“Narcissa is rushing you?” you purposely misinterpreted with a snicker. “Did she sit you down and give you the talk in the middle of a busy café?”

You smiled when you heard the sweet notes of Bill’s laughter joining yours in harmony. “No, it’s Molly.”

“I can see that,” you hummed. Molly was very motherly, and her wanting to dote on her grandchildren was very in-character for her.

“Mum’s always on my back, too, heckling me to get married,” Bill said, “because my younger brothers have partners, and I’m apparently too old to be single anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you argued. “You have plenty of time. You’re a man. You’re blessed with an infinite reproductive mechanism.”

“Tell that to my mum.” Bill inhaled deeply and pitched his voice up to sound like a Howler. Fred and George got a ton of them back in school. “William Weasley!”

The shrillness of his voice stirred some critters in the trees. After thirty years alongside his mother, Bill naturally did an amazing impression of Molly. You nearly snorted before breaking into a braying laugh. It was nearly midnight but you could’ve cared less about the noise you were making.

Bill continued to flaunt his theatrical talents, limited to his voice and animated facial expressions because his hands were preoccupied supporting you on his back. “Arthur and I will be in wheelchairs by the time you have a wife, nevertheless a child! We want to be present for our grandchildren. We want to visit you and your wife at St. Mungos when it happens, not to already be patients there.”

You giggled. “At least you didn’t get the talk about your eggs shrivelling up. It’s quite the nasty thought, isn’t it?” Then, you wondered aloud, “How does your dad go about it?”

“He’s indifferent but he just gets roped in. Mum will comment about how it would be nice to have a grandchild and dad will just sit there and agree.”

You could imagine that scene perfectly. Bill, walking into the kitchen innocently, trying to fix himself some tea and a sandwich, and Molly remarking how quiet and child-less it was in the house. “Does she hound your brothers, too?”

“Not at all,” Bill responded with a sigh. “Fred could marry a Hippogriff and she would be overjoyed that he at least married someone… or something. It’s me who has to get it perfectly right.”

“It’s unjust. All the expectations seem to fall on our shoulders, doesn’t it?” you commented.

“When Fred and George dropped out of school, mum was only livid for a week before she accepted the circumstances. I don’t reckon I’d have gotten the same treatment,” he continued. “The curse of being the eldest child.”

“You’re the only one who understands, Bill,” you added. “I’m the one who takes the brunt of Draco’s crap.”

“Do you?” Bill mused. “Funny, he did mention something about that.”

“He was talking about me?” you gasped, your fingers tightening their hold on his shoulders.

“They weren’t awful things,” Bill assured.

In the silence that lapsed, you were feeling braver than usual. Alcohol had a funny way of working. You found it ironic that people referred to it as liquid courage, because liquid was easily tampered with. You preferred to think of it more like armour—heavy, study. Regardless, alcohol unlocked a trove of questions that you kept buried in the deepest confinements of your heart, because you never had the nerve to ask when you were sober.

There were real repercussions, real chances of irreversible damage, especially if you were to ask: “Weren’t you involved with someone before you came back to England?”

“For a little bit, yeah”

You frowned slightly. Bill didn’t catch this as he was focused on getting down the steps with dropping to both of you. Admittedly, you were jealous that someone out there got to experience loving Bill Weasley, got to hear him tell them ‘I love you’ back, and forming a spoken and physical connection with him. The hope of that was slipping through your fingers every hour that ticked down to tomorrow’s departure.

“Why did it end?” you prodded.

“We just weren’t right for each other. It happens.” Bill shrugged, his shoulders rising and prompting your shoulders to graze his jaw. “Ended on good terms.”

“Was it that woman at the bank?”

Bill paused in thought and turned around to look at you. “What woman?”

“The tall blonde one that you kissed on the cheeks.” You tapped him where the shadow fell from his structured cheekbone twice. “Did you fancy her?”

Bill laughed, maintaining eye contact, and your face turned redder than they’ve ever been. The invincible armour from the alcohol faltered momentarily and you felt hot shame for asking.

“No, that’s Fleur Delacour,” he explained. “She’s the global liaison for Gringotts. She’s been trying to recruit me to our sister branches across Europe.”

“Oh.” Well, you felt like an absolute fool.

“What would make you think that now, (Y/N)?” he teased.  

“You just looked close.” You quickly tried to reroute the conversation, not wanting to talk about how hopeless you felt when you thought they were together. Besides, you wanted to know less about her and more about how Bill felt about matrimony. “I bet Molly would want you to get married to someone like Fleur.”

“There’s no chance of it,” Bill deflected with a laugh.  “They’ve got to be the right person for me, not my mum. Otherwise, it’ll be Molly waiting at the altar in a suit.”

You stifled a laugh and looked up. You were blanketed by a starry sky, the moon arched so perfectly in the sky. There was no better night to get everything off your chest. And just like that, your liquid courage solidified again. “What’s the right person for you?” you asked, your heart beating like a hummingbird against Bill’s strong body.

“Are we still rehearsing?” he asked with a low chuckle. The ripples from his voice vibrated pleasantly against your own chest.

“No.” You felt your face grow hot again and you attempted to hide it in the crook of Bill’s neck. “I’m just curious.”

“It’s not complicated,” he said with a shrug.

“What’s complicated?” you asked hotly. You shook his shoulders. “You’re complicated, Bill! Answer my question, it’s not a riddle.”

“Isn’t someone demanding tonight?” he commented, voice thick with amusement.

“I have a right to know!” you countered, lightly smacking his chest. You were steadfast in your line of questioning.

Bill sputtered and cowered a little. “And exactly what right is that? Is there a written decree somewhere? Did we sign on anything? Because I’d never sign my name without reading every line of the contract and in-between them, too.”

You conceded. “Bill, I admit I have no good answer to that,” you said nonsensically, your brain too fuzzy to even try to formulate something reasonable or witty.

“A fair enough answer.” He hoisted you back up when he felt you slumping down. “I suppose a kind woman who cares about her family and mine. I told you, not complicated.” He turned his head back to look at you, the twinkling lights reflecting in his blue eyes. “Satisfied now, (Y/N)?”

You incoherently murmured a soft ‘no’, the words lost in your breath. Bill’s words were buzzing in your mind and you were trying to frantically mould yourself into his criteria. Were you kind enough? Did you care about your family enough? Did you care about his family enough? Percy’s words replayed in your mind and a bubble swelled up in throat: clearly, you didn’t care enough about them if you strung him and his family along in your selfish scheme.

You curled your fists and squeezed them until your fingernails made red crescents on your palm. You had to ask, all whilst praying he’d forget you’d asked tomorrow: “Have you met the right person?”

A few seconds of silence passed before he responded, “That’s a secret.”

“We don’t keep secrets between us,” you moaned in a half-whine. You continued without any direction. “What if someone asks?”

“I reckon we’ve thoroughly convinced everyone so there’s no need to ask anymore,” Bill reasoned. He chuckled as he descended the last step with a hop. You looked up to find a carriage in front of you, wheels flush with the edges of the white boardwalk. There was a driver leaning on the vehicle’s front door wordlessly with a cigarette in between his fingers.

You hated that Bill was right. There was no one left to convince. But if this was your initial objective, then why were you wishing there was more to be done? More clandestine meetings, more planning for a future that was now only half-fiction and half-hope, and most importantly, more time spent together.

Bill helped you up the steps to the seats. You tucked yourself in the corner while Bill made small talk with the driver, whose French accent was as thick as the thoughts in your mind. The carriage sped through the empty promenade. You remained silent though you had only a million more questions to ask Bill. Secretly, you were hoping one of them would lead him to say, ‘you’re the right person for me, (Y/N)’ and there’d be nothing left to ask of him. Instead, you reclined on the soft headrest and watched the dark waves rocking onto the cobbled shore, the sparse amount of boats in the water, and late-night stragglers speeding by you. Occasionally, your glance flittered to Bill’s hand resting on the seat beside you, wishing so badly to hold those fingers again.

When you arrived at the entrance of the villa, the driver and carriage disappeared into the thick of the night. You kicked off your shoes on the front steps and carried them up the stairs to your room. It was eerily quiet inside as everyone had gone to sleep. After you’d undressed and wiped your face of any residue in the washroom, you clambered on the bed, head pounding and limbs unsteady. Bill, as if reading your mind, went to the washroom and came back out with two glasses of water.

“Here.” Bill sat on the edge of bed beside you and held one glass to you. “Drink. It’ll make you feel better tomorrow.”

You accepted his offering and chugged the cold liquid like no tomorrow. You’d drink the entire sea here if the French Minister of Magic allowed it.

“Why doesn’t it fill up immediately like the wine did?” you complained, eyeing at the bottom of the glass when water stopped pouring down your throat. Bill let out a throaty chuckle and took your empty glass.

“You just ask, and I’ll refill it for you.”

“Even at three a.m.?” you asked.

“Anytime,” he affirmed.

He left his full glass on the nightstand for you and took the empty one in his hands. When you heard a small creak and the bed get lighter, you called out.

“Bill?”

You peered at him through half-lidded eyes at his strong back and the light from the washroom filtering past his form.

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

‘Stay,’ you wanted to plead. ‘Stay with me.’

You reached out and gestured for him to come closer to you. He obliged. Apprehensively, you wrapped your arms around him, fingers shyly grazing his back, and whispered, “Thank you, you’re—”

Bill remained quiet as you tried to get the words out, but sleep was grappling for you, its treacherous hands reaching out to pull you to slumber. You, however, didn’t want to fall asleep, not knowing there were only twelve more hours to make things right.

“So—”

Your efforts were futile; you were falling in and out of consciousness quickly.

“Good—”

The last two words died on your lips. ‘You’re so good to me’, you wanted to say. In your half-lucid state, you were sure you felt Bill rest his chin on your head, and his hands gently rubbing circles on the small of your back.

“Anytime,” you thought you heard him confirm.

Before you could ask him to repeat himself, you were sound asleep. You recently developed an uncanny habit of falling asleep in inconvenient places. You didn’t think Bill’s arms would be one of them, but were you ever glad they were.

The next morning, you’d woken up with just a slight headache and a hankering for a full, greasy English breakfast. Instead, you just stood on the balcony, letting the sun kiss your skin all over and watching the waves crash onto the shore.

“I’m going to miss it here,” you mumbled to Bill who was standing behind you with your luggage.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” he said.

“I know,” you sighed heavily and turned to face him, “but I always hate going back to life as it was.”

‘As it was meaning,’ you clarified to yourself. ‘Without you, without this.’

“(Y/N),” he called, ready to confer knowledge. “Your life is up to you. It doesn’t have be a loop if you let it.”

Whatever Bill said, it didn’t matter. In your opinion, summer always ended when the trip to France ended. In the two weeks you were gone, the weather in England had either taken a downward dip in temperature, or it was just unimpressive compared to the French Riviera. The English weather was a parody of itself; it boasted grey skies and looming end-of-summer thunder today just as a private welcome-back party for you. Instead of turquoise beaches and palm trees, you only had rotting and overflowing gutters and thinning trees in the parks to look forward to.

You stopped briefly to say goodbye to your family at Malfoy Manor. You and Bill left right after, supposedly going home to the penthouse together. You walked mainly in silence. Every second that passed was tortuous, because you knew you were counting down to the end of everything. Last night, you had twelve hours, now you only had twelve minutes. Eventually, you arrived at the intersection between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. You treaded down the slope towards the bustling shopping street and continued walking until you were at the entrance of the flat. There, Bill laid your suitcase by the swinging doors and kept his own in his hands.  

“Thank you,” you said, referring to the luggage. “And for coming with me.”

“My pleasure, (Y/N),” he responded. “Thank you for having me. The French Riviera is indeed as beautiful as the books say it is.”

Any other words were lodged in your throat, so you waited.

A large drop of rain splattered on your face, the start of more precipitation to come.

You waited.

The amassed rain poured down the sewer like the last shred of hope you held onto, spiralling into darkness, like a buoy pulling on your heart.

You waited.

Finally, Bill spoke. He held up a hand, his main and middle finger slightly bent. “I’ll see you around.”

You’d be lying if you said that was what you wanted to hear.

With that, he apparated away.

You stared at the spot where Bill stood and at the imprint he made with his loafers in the grass. Like the hot, summer days, he’d disappeared as fast as he’d came, leaving the last few months nothing more than a memory and a canyon of deep regret that you would’ve made more out of it—slept in less, stayed up later. Should you be glad you never admitted your feelings to Bill? Because his abrupt goodbye wasn’t conducive to him asking you to rekindle where you’d left off.

Dejected, you let out a long sigh and picked up your suitcase. You unlocked the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and lugged your stuff back upstairs to your dusty sliver of a room.

As if you needed anymore reminders besides the weather that the summer was over, the joke shop received a new wave of customers: young wizards and their parents perusing Diagon Alley on their annual back-to-school trip. Work was equally mundane and quiet, and you would slump on your office desk, quill in hand, crossing off all the days you’d gone without talking to Bill.

August 23th: I guess we said goodbye in Diagon Alley, so that counts as something.

August 24: He’s probably unpacking.

August 25th: It takes a day or two to settle in.

August 26th: Nothing.

August 27th: He could be catching up with work. 

August 28th: I sneezed twice today, so maybe he’s thinking about me.

August 29th: Nothing.

On Saturday, you stayed at home, battling your own thoughts from the comfort of your couch. The sun was out for a last hurrah and it was beautiful outside, but you just wanted to take refuge at home.

“(Y/N)?”

George crouched on the floor and waved his fingers in front of your face. Your eyes were still focussed on the radio metres in the background, your magazine hanging precariously from your fingers.

“(Y/N)?” he tried again. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, George?” You finally acknowledged him by slapping your magazine on the leather couch.

“Firstly, since when were you interested in Flourish and Blott’s quill catalogue?” He stared at the discarded magazine on the couch. “Secondly, what happened in France?”

“Nothing,” you responded a little more maliciously than you would’ve liked. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I got an O—for outstanding, if you remember—in human empathy back in school and I just know you’re not as chipper as you were before you left,” he responded matter-of-factly. “Did something happen there?”

“No,” you sighed, “I just…” You trailed off and crinkled your eyebrows, trying to figure out what you missed. Maybe it was seasonal depression, and you were muddling Bill with the tropical weather in Nice. It was definitely easier to not say anything and figure it out yourself. “George, would you like to come to the beach with me?”

“Sure?” he responded quizzically. “Since when did you go to the beach in England? Who are you?”

When he noticed you glowering at him, he shut up. “Prime time for it right now,” he said instead. “I’ll get my stuff.”

You wanted to go to the beach to feel a spark, to regain what you lost when you came home. You prayed that Bill was just a supporting act in the play that were your melancholy feelings.

After a short ride on the tram, you hopped off right at the entrance and walked onto the lukewarm sand with George, approaching the water from the west. The sun in England was so weak compared to the brilliant rays you soaked up in Nice. There were bodies of young females splayed out on the sand, but you would bet your life savings they’d never tan as easily as you did. Your mouth tightened when twigs and seaweed washed up on the green shore.

“Well?” George asked, staring at the water that creeped towards his feet. “Did you want to swim or something?”

“I’m not sure.” You experimentally dipped a finger in. The water felt slimy and you immediately grimaced. “Not really.”

George raised an eyebrow in bewilderment. “Then why’d you come to the beach?”

“I don’t know.” You retracted your finger and lied through your teeth. “I miss being right by the water, I guess. It’s awful to have to take the tram here and have it,” you gestured out to the desolate space, “look like this.”

“You’ll go again next year,” George assured. “With me, though.”

“Why with you?”

You almost laughed at the irony of your question. When your mother propositioned you for the trip, you’d almost forgotten about asking Bill. You recalled Fred’s shocked face as he held the parchment and him asking you if you’d lost your mind. Now, all you could think of was inviting Bill and spending another August with him.

“Because,” George drew in a deep breath, almost like he didn’t want to unfurl the next words on his tongue, “Bill is going back to Egypt.”

You couldn’t control the startled look on your face. George just looked at you, oblivious that his words sent a shockwave of hurt through your heart. You needed a few moments to process this new piece of information and any semblance of a response was lost on your lips. It made no sense. Bill hadn’t mentioned Egypt at all throughout the summer, he looked ready to stay put. But again, he also hadn’t made plans with you for after the summer. You supposed you weren’t an important piece in the chessboard that was his future.  

“Is he?” you choked out, grateful that the pale waves in front of you were washing out your bleak tone. “When?”

“September first, we’re having a farewell dinner tomorrow,” George responded, hands in pockets and standing so casually, like he wasn’t clenching your poor heart with his bare fists with every sentence he spoke. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Nope.” You fiddled with your hands and a thought came to you, eliciting a bitter chuckle. “We’re not really together, so why should he tell me?”

“Fake relationship or not,” George turned to you, “you should get your goodbyes in before he leaves, yeah?”

You stared out at the sea. Your lips pulled into a pout when you realized you only had tomorrow to catch him. Tomorrow was the last day of August.

“Yeah, I will.”

Your voice was full of conviction, but your will to confront impending heartbreak was faltering fast.

After your trip, you headed back to the flat. You were quiet on the tram, your eyes flittering from the streets of the shopping alley to George’s face. You studied it and compared it tirelessly to Bill’s. George had a sturdier face, Bill’s was more chiseled and elegant. George’s eyes favoured a warmer brown shade with a light dusting of hazel specks, but bore no trace of blue like Bill’s. George’s nose was more crooked, Bill’s was straight. Most importantly, George was staying in England, and Bill was going back to Egypt.

As your eyes ran from freckle to freckle, you wondered if you were going crazy, trying to compare the two because they were different people, but you just couldn’t stop thinking about Bill.

Later that night, when Fred returned, you were in a worse state than before.

“Welcome back to civilization, (Y/N),” Fred said as he sauntered through the doors. “How was France?”

“Great.”

“Are you coming to dinner tomorrow?”

“I’ll think about it.” You shrugged, but your face flushed with embarrassment. Why would you want to show up anyway? To say goodbye to Bill and pretend that him leaving didn’t affect you at all?

“What’s there to think about?” Fred remarked, grabbing a beer from the fridge and inching closer to your face. “Bill’ll be there, and we know how much you’d want to see him after a looooong week apart.”

Guess you weren’t the only one counting down the days.

You stared at Fred’s retreating figure and felt a wave of nausea overcome you. Maybe staying at the flat wasn’t a good idea after all. Fred and George were constant reminders of Bill—sharing his blood—and were trying not to think about him. Plus, they were so nonchalant about your feelings, acting like it was just a game. And at some point it was, but now they you knew your feelings for Bill were very real, it wasn’t a game anymore. Every joke or jest later that night was a thick needle prick to your heart and you couldn’t bear to tell them the truth.

You knew you had to get away, but just where you’d run off to was the question.

>> NEXT CHAPTER

&lt;<CHAPTER DIRECTORY

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[sweettjrose]

Detective Mickey Pilot P.4

Hey everyone. Hi... Hello... So it has been quite a while since the last part... Okay, so I ended up being extremely busy these past couple of weeks and really struggled to find time to finish writing. It doesn't help that this ended up being another really long part. I think the parts from here to now on will continue to be long. I'll try to get part 5 out next week, but no promises. I should still have 2 more parts left. Though I may add an epilogue. I'll have to decide once I write the final part.

I am so thankful for all of the support I've been getting. Part 3 got the best response which makes me so happy since it was my favorite part, but this part may be a close second. Tbh this is my first time writing "fanfiction" and I can already find myself improving. I wonder if maybe I should figure out what else to write after I finish this. But I'll discuss that late.

I will warn you that there are few somewhat tense situations in this part. For those who read the "Mickey Mouse Outwits the Phantom Blot" comic, you'll get an idea of what I may be talking about. But I did add my own twist to it. I will try my best to add triggers for it, but please let me know if I am missing something.

Now with all that out of the way...

Previous Part: X

Next Part: X

So Close. So. Close. He was about maybe 20 feet from his car until he felt the metallic muzzle at his neck. Instantly able to tell what it was. He slowly raised his hands and froze, doing his best to avoid sudden movements.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

A chill went up Mickey’s spine. That cold but velvety voice was all too familiar and Mickey knew he was in the presence of that cloaked nightmare once again. Memories of their previous encounter flickered in Mickey’s mind, including those eyes. Those frightening white eyes. Mickey quietly took a breath, finally able go calm himself down. He better respond soon. Thankfully though, with help from Horace, he had a backup plan for this exact situation. In his best old-person voice Mickey tried to tell the threatening man behind him that he thought that this was his house and that he made a mistake and would be heading home. He hoped that the shadowy figure would buy that he was just a senile old man and not find value in dealing with him. But that hope shattered when he heard his cruel horrid laughter snake into his ears, growing and growing each second. The Blot paused his laughter every couple of seconds asking the mouse if he thought he was stupid enough to buy his little disguise. He is literally the master of disguise and yet this amateur journalist thought he could outwit him with a fake beard and a hat. Mickey blushed, feeling silly that he thought this would work. Getting the sense that the mouse was feeling embarrassed the Blot faked trying to console him by saying to not feel too bad as he thought that the little costume was “adorable” and if there was a next time he could see the mouse able to pull a more convincing look. Unfortunately, there wasn’t going to be a next time.

The Phantom Blot sighed, adding that he was rather hurt that the mouse didn’t accept his very generous gift. He feigned hurt, going on about how he used up all the kindness in his heart to give this mouse a benevolent second chance, only to have it thrown back into his face. Oh Well. That’s what he gets for showing kindness to others. I guess he’ll have to heal his broken heart by torturing this little pathetic mouse. The Blot poked Mickey’s neck again with the gun, this time partially lifting the camera around Mickey’s neck with the barrel and then picking it up with his other hand, leaving the gun still touching Mickey's neck. He jokingly asks what it is and remarks that this doesn’t look like any of the missing cameras. Almost out of instinct, Mickey tells him to stop and pleads to give it back. Only to freeze again after the gun touches him again. The man laughs before noting that this must be the mouse’s personal camera and questions how he must be concerned about all the incriminating pictures…Or perhaps it is something a bit more intimate than that. Mickey then hears a thud and a loud crack that causes him to rapidly turn to the source of the noise… Did he… Before he has a chance to see, a swift hit to the head quickly knocks him out, leaving him once again vulnerable to whatever the Phantom Blot has planned for him.

Mickey's eyes instantly shot open and he tried to get up. Unfortunately, he found that a bit of a challenge as he noticed that his whole body seemed to be tied up with ropes. From what Mickey can gather he is tied to some kind of bench facing upwards. He tries his best to move any muscle or joint, but can’t even wiggle a finger. Frustrated Mickey looks up realizing that right above him is a giant sharp circular saw aimed right at his neck. He let out a large yelp before seeing a note that was attached to the blade of the saw...

“Hope you rested well little mouse,

Wish I could stay and watch this play out, but unfortunately I had other things to attend to. Do not worry, nothing bad should happen, lest any of our new friends decide to wake. I cannot seem to remember if I fed them or not. I advise you to avoid making too much noise. Nothing good will come of it. 

Your Dear Friend… ”

 The letter was signed with some splotches of ink. He looks around cautiously, noticing dozens of cats dozing on the floor. Thankfully they all seem to be in a deep sleep. But for how long? As Mickey tries to investigate the saw, he notices that it is attached to some kind of mechanical device. At the end of the device, there is a thin wire with a… Fish wrapped around the end? Mickey is confused by the fish until he remembers the sleepy and probably hungry cats over the floor. He puts together very quickly that if that fish is moved too much, that will most likely signal the device to turn on the saw and… Cut right through his neck. Crap. Mickey was unsure what kind of “torture” the Phantom Blot would put him in, but he wasn’t expecting this. This is a bit odd, but still extremely morbid. Bet this would make an interesting headline. Mouse gets his head cut off thanks to starving cats. What a way to die… Thankfully Mickey isn’t one to quickly give up. There is too much at stake. He survived the Phantom Blot before and he can do it again. Mickey stops to think a little and quickly realizes that the Phantom Blot has given Mickey a very powerful tool at the moment. Time. Ha, the Blot could have easily killed him while he was knocked out and yet he gave Mickey plenty of time to figure out how to-o… to-oh… A sudden tingle hits Mickey’s nose… Oh No. Mickey tries his best to hold in a sneeze but finds it near impossible until he is finally forced to let it out. Ah-Choo!

As the sound of the sneeze echoes around the room, about half of the cats perk up. Shoot. Shoot. Mickey feels another tingly sensation under his nose and instantly looks further up. He notices a pepper shaker dangling above him slowly dropping pepper flakes. Crap. He doesn’t even have time. The awakened cats start to wander around the room, getting a better look at their surroundings. A white long long-haired cat jumps on the table, gets near Mickey’s face, and starts to brush his nose with their tail causing him to sneeze more. Not. Helping. Mickey tries his best to shoo away the cats, not afraid of making noise anymore. But they don’t seem to care. A small black and white kitten tries to jump up to the fish and misses. However, now the other cats are aware of the fish. No. No. Mickey uses every ounce of energy he has to try to scare away the cats. Screaming and moving the bench enough to wobble side to side… Wait, wobble the bench. He can wobble the bench! He uses all of his strength to wobble the bench from side to side. Getting more powerful with each swing. Come on. Come on. A much larger orange-striped cat looks at the fish and gets in a position to make a jump. Crap. Come On. Hurry. Swing. Swing. The cat bends back. Hurry. Swing. Swing. And leaps instantly catching the fish in their claws causing the wire to go down as well and turning on the mechanical machine. Within a couple of seconds, the circular saw turns on and swings the powerful and sharp blade downwards right at Mickey. Making a loud buzzing sound as it cuts through something. But miraculously in that very last second, Mickey managed to swing hard enough to get the bench on its side facing away from the whirring saw. 

The saw instead cuts straight through the legs of the bench and stops right before it hits the floor. The noise and vibrations are enough to scare all of the cats causing them to rush around the room, avoiding the saw, looking for any exit. Mickey tries to move and finds that the rope tying him down was sliced through, allowing him to pull himself free. He stands up, rushes to the nearest door, opens it, and lets a flood of cats rush right out the door… He survived. He really survived. Mickey lets out a large breath, relieving the tension in his shoulders. He could feel tears start to build up in the corners of his eyes. Okay. Focus. Need to Get Out of Here. Mickey looks around, instantly recognizing that he is still in the mansion. At least the Phantom Blot didn’t take him too far.

He starts rushing out the door over to where he remembers parking his car, hoping it is still there. Little did he notice a small white and black kitten following him. On his way he spots some trash cans not too far from his path. One of the lids seems to be partially open, held up by something. He feels a strong urge to check it out. Might as well since it is on the way. As he opens the can, a small smile creeps onto his face. Little Korker V39 cameras. A whole bunch of them. They all seemed to be broken into, but quite a few of them don’t look too hard to fix. An idea pops into his mind as he starts taking out as many of the least broken cameras he can find and placing them in a convenient burlap sack that happens to be nearby. As he picks up the last camera he notices something colorful on the side of the trash can. It is probably the thing that was holding the lid up from before that dropped when he opened it. He decided to take a deeper look at the object and in an instant his heart breaks. 

Ol’ Reliable. In this mess he completely forgot about Ol’ Reliable, his faithful camera. He sees it currently lying in a pile of mud shattered beyond repair. He instantly remembered the thud and loud crack from his previous encounter with the Phantom Blot. He did this. Memories flood his mind of the time  he first bought it, Felicity helping him develop the photos, and all the care he put into repairing and cleaning it … It’s gone. It’s really gone. Mickey can’t help but feel a huge hole in his heart. That camera meant so much to him and it was destroyed by that evil man like it was nothing. Mickey then remembers that the camera also held photos of the evidence he found earlier. Not caring about the danger within, the mouse heads back into the mansion and retraces his steps to the secret door. He heads down and looks at the now empty circular room. Crap. Seems like the Phantom Blot cleaned out the place before he left. Mickey sighs. Now he really doesn’t have any evidence left. He somberly exits the mansion with a depressed expression on his face. Now what is he going to do?

As he heads back to his car a little black and white cat comes up to him and starts to meow. Almost as if he is asking Mickey if he is alright. Mickey smiles a bit, picks the kitten up, and starts petting him. As Mickey heads over to where his car might be, the cat meows again, almost as if he is asking what’s the matter. Mickey laughs and tells the cat that he is just going through a tough time, I mean he did almost die, and it seems like it will only get tougher. After a quick pause, the cat purrs and rubs his head on Mickey’s chest, seemingly trying to tell him that it will be alright. It will be alright. Mickey could feel his broken heart mend a bit as his new friend comforted him. He is really glad to not be alone right now. He miraculously still finds his car where he left it and starts placing the broken cameras, including his own, into the car. When he opens the door the kitten immediately jumps in and sits in one of the seats. Seems like his new friend wants to come with him. Hmmm… Minnie talked about wanting a cat. 

We cut to Mickey in his house as he carefully places Ol’ Reliable on the table and can’t help but feel hurt looking at the unfixable state it is in. He has experience fixing small dents and replacing missing pieces here and there. But it is completely crushed and Mickey is at a loss on whatever could be done to save it. Mickey sighs and starts to move over to a chair. Pluto notices and instantly lays his head on Mickey’s lap. Mickey smiles at him and thanks him for the support. The little black and white cat also tries to wobble over to his lap, causing Pluto to growl, which Mickey stops by reminding Pluto that he should be nice to their new friend and that he will only be here for a little while. Pluto begrudgingly ends the growling, deciding that it was best if he didn’t cause any trouble for Mickey at this moment. 

Mickey stops to think a bit. He has to continue this case. He can’t let the Phantom Blot get away with that weapon blueprint. He would never forgive himself if he did. But what can he do? Well before he was hoping to be able to have some evidence to show the police. I guess he could go back to the mansion and check for more clues. But what if the Phantom Blot is there. Mickey shuddered at the thought of seeing him again. It’s possible he hasn’t returned yet. Is it worth the risk though? He already cleaned out the secret room. It’s possible he could find nothing and waste his time. Maybe he doesn’t need clues. If he could just talk to O’Hara, he would know Mickey wouldn’t lie about this. But then again he did mention being really busy.  Mickey continued his internal debate, as Pluto raised his head once more to look at the annoying feline that invaded his home. Only to notice that the kitten is completely gone. The pooch perked up looking all over the room only to spot the mischievous cat playing with something on the table. After peering closer the hound realized the cat was messing with the now-broken item he knew Mickey loved a lot. He instantly got up and started barking at the cat. Trying to get it to leave the special item alone. This broke Mickey out of his deep thinking as he went to calm Pluto. The barking however still managed to spook the cat, as it attempted to run pushing the camera to the ground. After telling Pluto to halt, Mickey went over to the camera to pick it up and noticed that the canister holding the film had fallen out. The canister looked pretty beat up… But not as bad as he thought… He wonders… 

Mickey quickly heads over to the extra bedroom he has been using as a film studio. He pulls out the film in the dark room and sees that it was definitely damaged… But maybe…  He goes through each step of developing the film taking great care to be careful. Mickey follows each process perfectly, clearly the result of doing this hundreds of times. As he removes the film from its final rinse, he braces himself for the moment of truth. He looks through each photo carefully trying to see if any would be usable. Unfortunately, it seems that for most of them, it is as he expected. Too damaged from when the Phantom Blot crushed it… But then he looks at one photo. It actually is pretty clear compared to the others. And it is of the… Chemical. He got a good one of the green chemical he saw before. Hot Dog! That will surely be enough to convince the police. He hangs the film up to dry and carefully exits the room. Here he thought he lost everything, but it ended up being okay. As he thought that he looked at the young cat who was cuddled up next to Pluto in his dog bed. Mickey quietly laughed to himself, glad to see the two finally getting along. He looks at the time and realizes how early in the morning it is. He probably has a couple of hours before the station opens up and he can meet O’Hara there when he is more in a work mood. Well, this gives Mickey time to organize his findings to better explain what is going on. Also, he looks at the bag of broken cameras, this could also give him time to work on the plan he came up with before.

We see Mickey run into the police station carrying a laptop and a tote with a couple of items inside. He looks pretty disheveled and exhausted. It is debatable how much sleep he got last night, but he must press on. He rushes up to the unfazed secretary and tells her that he needs to speak to Chief O’Hara immediately, making sure to add a please this time. She bluntly tells him that O’Hara is too busy to see anyone today and that he will have to try another time. Mickey tries to emphasize that he has really really important news to share and that it’s an emergency. Only for the lady to roll her eyes and repeat what she said before verbatim. Frustrated Mickey then frantically asks if there is anyone he can talk to as he really needs to talk to someone now. As he said that, two dogs, a shorter one in a green suit and a larger one in cowboy boots, entered the main lobby from the front door. Mickey instantly recognizes them as the same dogs he bumped into when he came here earlier. The lady calls out to both of them, referring to the smaller dog as Detective Casey and the larger dog as Detective Brick. She tells them that someone is here to see them. Detective Casey mumbles under his breath as the mouse quickly scurries up to him. Mickey tells him that he has very important information to share and needs the help of the police immediately. Casey doesn’t seem to buy it and tells the mouse that they are very busy, only for the other detective to mention that they should hear him out given how freaked out Mickey looks. Casey grumbles and asks if they have to and Brick mentions that it wouldn’t hurt. He then tells the mouse to follow him and leads Mickey to an empty conference room with an annoyed Casey following closely behind. 

Mickey immediately starts setting up his laptop with the conference projector as the other two settle down into their seats. Once everything was all set up, Mickey started to go into an explanation about how Chief O’Hara sent him on a case about a missing camera so that he could write a story about it. Casey tries to question why a missing camera would be worth a story, only for Mickey to ignore him and continue his explanation. As Mickey went on, a police officer or some other staff would noticed the presentation and started to trickle into the room, giving Mickey more of an audience. He brings up how he thought it was a common thief, but then realized that this was all part of a large conspiracy. Mickey then shows the picture of Jimmy Korker, the article, and a somewhat fixed Little Korker camera. He then starts going into the details about the Little Korker V39 cameras and how a couple of shipments of them were used to smuggle a chemical to a foreign country, pointing to the photo of the chemical. Brick asks if Mickey knows what country it was being shipped to and Mickey mentions that he doesn’t know. Casey peers into the picture closer and asks if it is a glow stick. Mickey explains that it is not a glow stick, but is some kind of chemical. Another police officer asks what kind of chemical, and Mickey says he doesn’t know he just managed to get a picture of it. Another police officer blurts out that it sure looks like a glow stick only for Casey to add that he doesn’t know why he needs them to look for a glow stick, Mickey patiently replies that it wasn’t a glow stick and explains that it is an important chemical that is connected to some kind of weapon. There is a brief pause before another person pipes in asking what type of weapon.

Mickey discloses that he doesn’t know but knows that there are blueprints for it hidden in one of the cameras and they need to hurry and find this blueprint or else… Before he could finish, Casey stops him and tells him that it isn’t that he doesn’t believe him, though he clarifies that he doesn’t believe him, but that Mickey hasn’t really been able to substantiate any of his claims so far. These pictures don’t really tell him anything and he needs to see something a bit more… substantial. Brick asks Mickey if he could take them to where he took a picture of the chemical. Mickey says he could, but also regretfully adds that everything is gone. Casey shakes his head and points out that is the problem. Mickey has been telling them all these wild ideas and nothing he has seems to support his claims. The picture of the glow stick could be photoshopped for all he knows and Mickey doesn’t even know what this chemical or weapon is. Brick adds that while this seems very interesting, they don’t really have the resources or time to waste and if Mickey manages to find more evidence they may be more willing to check it out. As he says that the police officers start to talk amongst themselves, seeming to agree with the detectives, with a couple even walking out the door. Mickey frantically does his best to get everyone to stop leaving. Stop. Please. I know this seems far-fetched. But you have to believe me. Listen, I can show you the mansion. I have a plan I’ve been setting up. I need your help. I-I… Unfortunately, as the mouse looked around he realized he failed to convince anyone as more people started to pour out of the room. No. This can’t be happening. He needs them. They have to help him. “YOU HAVE TO HELP ME STOP THE PHANTOM BLOT!”

Everyone instantly stops, turning to the mouse. Someone repeats “The Phantom Blot?”. Mickey confirms, “Yes the Phantom Blot.” Mickey adds that he met the Phantom Blot face to face and that he is also looking for the blueprint for the weapon. If they don’t hurry and find the other cameras before he does, the Phantom Blot will... And with that, the room erupts into laughter. Between his chuckles, Brick asks Mickey if he is truly saying that he met the Phantom Blot. Mickey reconfirms and someone else pipes in asking if he met Negaduck as well, causing the room to go into another fit of laughter. Mickey gives a confused no and tries his best to plead with everyone that he is telling the truth. He really did meet the Blot. Twice actually. The Phantom Blot tried to kill him. There was a fish and a bunch of cats. Unfortunately, he continued to be drowned out by all the chortling from the crowd. Casey adds that he thought the mouse was looney before and now he knows for sure. Frustrated, Mickey glances around the crowd, seeing if he is reaching anyone. He looks out the conference window and spots Chief O’Hara walking by and talking with some kind of lioness in a fancy suit. O’Hara. He’ll believe him. Mickey starts speeding through the crowd trying to get to him. Only for the two detectives to stop laughing and charge after him, though they struggled to get through the giggling crowd, due to their larger size.

Mickey manages to reach O’Hara and shouts that he needs his help. O’Hara stops his discussion with the lioness and greets Mickey, though a bit caught off guard by the sudden outburst. He looks at Mickey noticing his exhausted appearance and asks if he is okay. Mickey quickly adds that he is and that they don’t have much time. He needs O’Hara’s help to catch the Phant-. That is when Brick and Casey finally catch up to Mickey and start grabbing onto him. Casey mentions that this mouse has been raving about a bunch of baloney wasting their time. Mickey tries to defend himself as Brick adds that he thinks that the mouse may be feeling a bit under the weather. Mickey tries his best to struggle out of their grasp to look straight at O’Hara and plead that he really needs to talk to him. O’Hara looks at him and spots the bags under his eyes. The other figure gives a cough at O’Hara, seeming to indicate that they should get back to their conversation. O’Hara apologizes to Mickey that unfortunately he is really busy and can’t talk now. He adds that Mickey looks tired and should take some time to relax and they can catch up another time. 

This seemed to be the breaking point for Mickey and he stopped struggling against the two detectives. Even O’Hara doesn’t believe him. O’Hara. The two detectives easily carry the mouse out to the lobby as another police officer brings over Mickey’s stuff which they hand back to him. They drop Mickey on the floor and Casey communicates that since Mickey seems like he has a positive relationship with the Chief, they’ll let him go. But they are way too busy to deal with pranksters like him and can’t waste time following some made-up nonsense. They have real crimes to work on, not some mumbo jumbo about the Phantom Blot. Mickey tries to protest, but he stops himself realizing it isn’t worth it at this point. Brick gives the mouse an empathetic look and tells him that he should probably head home. He asks if the mouse needs someone to drive him home and Mickey angrily responds with a no. He then tells Mickey to drive safe and to not worry about it, as it was all probably a bad dream, before he leaves the lobby closing the door behind him. Defeated, Mickey gathers his stuff and exits the building. That didn’t go well at all. He didn’t know why they didn’t believe him. Ugh… This is constantly happening to him. Every time he tries to talk about something important. Nobody ever trusts him. Everyone treats him like a child. Nobody takes what he says seriously. What did he ever do to be treated like this? He sighs, usually he would brush this off if it was just affecting him. But lives are at stake now. A lot of lives. Who can he turn to now?

As if nails to a chalkboard, Mickey could hear a very familiar and annoying snicker behind him. Not Him. Not Now. Mortimer clasps his hand on Mickey’s back. Mortimer adds his typical “Ha-Cha-Cha” and chuckles out that he can’t believe the fact that THE Mickey Theodore Mouse has finally cracked. I mean claiming he met the Phantom Blot. THE Phantom Blot. What a riot! He gloats that he can’t wait to tell everyone about this. Mickey angrily rebukes that he did meet the Phantom Blot and that lives are in danger. Mortimer continues to crack up and tells Mickey that he doesn’t know what has been going on with Mickey lately, but he needs to step up his game. He’s making Mortimer embarrassed to still call him a rival. Mickey could feel his insides boiling before unleashing an uncharacteristic rage at Mortimer. He shouts that he is not joking and doesn’t appreciate how everyone is treating him so badly. There is a big threat in Mouseton right now and no one seems to care. So unless Mortimer wants to help him, he better get out of his way. With that, Mickey shoves the other mouse away and stomps to his car. Mortimer stands there completely stunned. He has never in his entire life ever seen Mickey so angry, and he has known him since Kindergarten. Eventually, Mortimer gave a huff back. What’s his problem?

Mickey drove away in his car, not even knowing where to go. He just had to go. After taking a couple of random turns, Mickey could already feel himself calming down. Alright, now what. Since the police are a bust, Mickey could already feel himself running out of options. Mickey also is afraid to bring any more of his other friends in, as that could just be putting a target on their backs. He shuddered thinking about the odd contraption he was stuck in last night. He wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. Ugh, what can he do? He parks his car at a gas station and looks at his phone. He sees a message from Minnie pop up. Minnie. He opens the message. She’s asking if he has been doing okay. Even though it has been a couple of days since he last spoke to her, it feels like months. Mickey doesn’t really like to share his problems with anyone as he doesn’t want to be a bother. But with Minnie, he always felt like he could truly open up to her. She really felt like his second half. Maybe he should tell her. No. This situation is much different from his other problems. He wouldn’t even know how to tell her about the near-death situations he’s been in. He really doesn’t want to worry her. She’s been working hard running her boutique. She shouldn’t be worrying about her boyfriend’s life.

Mickey spots Horace’s name under Minnie's message and realizes he hasn’t checked in on Horace yet. Maybe he found something that could really give him an edge. He presses the call button and waits for Horace to answer. After a couple of rings, Horace cheerfully answers the phone and Mickey asks if he has found out anything else about the cameras. Horace is just about to respond when there is a loud crashing noise and a grunt and the phone call ends. Oh No. Mickey instantly turns on his car again and rushes over to Horace’s house as fast as he can. This can’t be happening. Please. How did he know to go after Horace? Was it because of the social media post? Did he see him at Horace’s house? He shouldn’t have brought Horace into this. This is all Mickey’s fault. Mickey prays that he isn’t too late as he haphazardly parks at the Apartment Complex and bolts his way to Horace's door. He promptly turns the handle only to find that it is unlocked. No. Please No. Mickey rushes in and calls for Horace, searching every crook and nanny for him. Landing in his bedroom. Mickey falls to his knees. How could he have let this happen? Now the Phantom Blot has gotten to his friends too. Horace could be some kind of weird death trap or even already dead and it is all his fault. Mickey’s phone rings and he quickly grabs it out of his pocket. It is from Horace. Mickey takes a deep breath and braces himself as he takes the call. Mickey then immediately tells the person on the other line that he doesn’t know what he did to Horace, but that he will not give up and will save him. 

Only for a very confused Horace to respond unsure of what is going on. Mickey could feel a large weight drop from his shoulders the moment he heard Horace’s voice. He’s okay. Or at least he thinks he is. Mickey asks Horace what is going on. Horace assures him that he is okay and that he had to leave town to help a friend with a plumbing emergency and when Mickey called, a pipe broke causing the whole house to fill with water. He’s a bit waterlogged, but mostly okay, and should be back tomorrow. This explanation causes Mickey to laugh a little, mostly to relieve the stress that is building up. Horace asks if Mickey is doing okay based on the weird introduction and Mickey responds that he is doing fine, he just noticed that the door was unlocked and was afraid something bad happened. Horace responds that the locks at the apartment aren’t that great. He really needs to find a new place to live. Mickey reminds him that he has the extra room at his house, and the horse responds that he’ll keep that in mind. Horace then asks if Mickey has any more updates about the missing cameras. Mickey tells him a brief explanation of what he learned about the cameras and that he found the cameras broken in a trash can. Horace then asks if Mickey saw the Phantom Blot again. Mickey paused for a second. Oh yeah. He told him about the Phantom Blot. Mickey then chose to lie, not well but good enough, about not seeing the Phantom Blot and adds that he actually thinks he may have just imagined him before. Horace doesn’t need to be too involved in this. He shouldn't have to worry over Mickey. Horace seems confused but a bit relieved over the call and congratulates Mickey for technically solving the mystery. He knew he could do anything he put his mind to, especially since Horace taught him everything he knew. Mickey laughs a bit, feeling much better, and thanks Horace. 

Quickly remembering the fright he had before, Mickey asks Horace if he wouldn’t mind staying out of town for a little bit longer. Horace inquires as to why and Mickey responds that he thinks the Horse deserves a break after helping him with the camera case. Horace gladly agrees, mentioning that he would never turn down an offer for a vacation. Besides, his friend has been showing him how to Bull Ride and he thinks it is his true passion. With that, the two say goodbye to each other and end the call. Horace is safe. What a relief. Mickey heads out of the room to leave, and he notices some black spots on the front door. He did not see those black spots before. It looks like… like… Mickey touches it. Ink. It’s Ink. A shiver ran through the mouse’s spine. Is he losing his mind? Why else would ink be on the door? Is this a warning? Maybe it was always there and he hadn’t noticed it. Maybe Horace just happened to spill it. But why would Horace have ink? Or at least not attempt to clean it up. Mickey breaks out of his wandering thoughts before opening the door to leave the apartment. He needs to focus on what he is going to do next. If the police aren’t going to help and he can’t risk any of his friends getting hurt, then Mickey will have to do it alone. He can’t stop now. Just as Horace says, he can do anything he puts his mind to. Mickey thought about what his next steps should be. He could try to see if he could find any more cameras left. Maybe if he gets the blueprint before the Phantom Blot does, he can destroy it and prevent him from ever using that weapon. 

Mickey gives a heavy sigh as that would be quite the task he would have to take, but what else could he do. Mickey spends the rest of the day going from pawn store to pawn store, going to any camera-related store he could find on the Waddle Maps, and even checking antique or any kind of odd store in hopes that maybe one of them may still have a Little Korker V39 left behind. Unfortunately, just as Mickey suspected, he couldn’t find a single one as they don’t have any in stock or they “mysteriously disappeared”. As Mickey left the last store he looked at the clock and realized how late it was getting and the chances of any more stores being open is probably minimal. Shoot. He was really hoping to get something, but it seems like this was a bust. Mickey feels at a complete loss of what else he could possibly do. I mean there was that one idea earlier. But he would be completely mad to try and do it alone. But what other choice did he have? He had to do it. He had to do the unthinkable. He had to capture the Phantom Blot. 

He decided to head home before he started as he should probably check on Pluto and his new cat friend and gather a couple of things. When pulled into his driveway, he quickly noticed that the lights happened to be on. He did not leave those on. As he went to the front door he picked up a rake that was lying in the grass and slowly crept through the door. Prepared to attack anything that might jump out at him. He peeked in the small window that was next to the door. He saw Minnie who appeared to be making something in his kitchen. He gave a large sigh. This isn’t a surprise. Minnie often would just come into his house whenever she wanted, as she had a key. Usually, she would surprise him with dinner. Though normally she would tell him first. He dropped the rake and opened the door. Minnie greeted him and mentioned how she was making spaghetti for dinner. Mickey tells Minnie that he wasn’t expecting her to come over and Minnie responds saying she sent several messages. Mickey checks his phone and sees that she is correct. He must have somehow ignored them in his search for the camera. Minnie adds that she also wanted to talk to Mickey about something. As she finishes stirring the sauce she goes up to Mickey only to notice the giant bags under his eyes and his general exhausted demeanor. 

She immediately questions whether Mickey is feeling alright. Mickey quickly blurts out that he is. He notices the little cat walking by and picks him up, handing him over to Minnie mentioning that he found her a cat, hoping he could change the subject. She thanks Mickey and places the cat down. Though continues to press on, aware of what he was trying to do. She asks Mickey again if he is truly okay. Mickey doesn’t respond and sits at the dining room table. She sighs and mentions that Mortimer messaged her earlier and said that he was at the police station making a fool of himself. Mickey rolls his eyes, of course Mortimer would tell Minnie that. He says that it is nothing to worry about and that he has it under his control. Minnie drops a plate of spaghetti in front of him with the noodles perfectly swirled, the sauce right in the middle, a couple leaves of basil on the side, and the meatballs in the sauce oriented to look like Mickey’s head. He smiled, she always did cute stuff like this for dinner. She sits down with her own plate. Minnie thinks for a bit and then asks how the camera heist was going. The last thing she heard was when Mickey told her about the successful meeting with O’Hara. Mickey looks down and plays with his food a bit, again not responding. Minnie assures Mickey that he can tell her anything and that she will support him no matter what. Mickey stares at his plate. He wants so badly to unload like he usually does, but this is way beyond what he usually struggles with. But he knows that if he doesn’t say something, Minnie will continue to try to get Mickey to talk to her until he does. She’s persistent. He normally loved that about her, but at the moment…

He decides to start slow by explaining how he thinks who knows who takes the cameras, causing Minnie to quickly congratulate Mickey. But then he explains how he realized that the cameras were part of something… A little bigger than he expected. Minnie tries to pry more into what he means, but Mickey doesn’t answer. He instead talks about how he tried to go to the police to get help, but they didn’t believe him. This seems to upset Minnie as she asks if he tried talking to O’Hara. Mickey looks down and mumbles that he is busy. Minnie pauses for a second and then complains about how she doesn’t know why the police wouldn’t help Mickey. Their job is to help people correct. Mickey sits there silently as Minnie continues to rant, bringing up that there is no reason for them to not give Mickey a chance. She looks at Mickey and notices an expression she isn’t really familiar with. She has known Mickey for almost her entire life and has become all too familiar with his quirks. But when she looked at him she saw something she hadn't really seen. He looks shaken to his core. He’s terrified. Really terrified. But of what. Something happened to him. Something changed him. He’s hiding something. She asks Mickey who the thief was. And Mickey freezes. After a second he says that it is not important. She gets up from her seat and heads over to Mickey again asking who the thief was. He tries to look away and instinctively says that he doesn’t want to worry her. It’s fine he got it. She goes over to grab his hands before noticing something on his wrist. There are red markings on his arms that she didn’t notice before. Is that… Rope Burn… She pleads to Mickey “Mickey… What happened”... Mickey pulls away his arms, realizing what she saw. He got up from his chair and crossed his arms. “Was it the Phantom Blot?”

Mickey turned around, extremely surprised that Minnie knew. Oh wait, she said Mortimer told her what happened. Darn that rat. She stared at him with a completely distraught look in her eyes. She expressed that she thought that Mortimer misheard Mickey, but now she can see… She freezes. She has no idea how to even respond. Mickey looks at her, unsure if he is happy that he finally has another person who believes him. Mickey adds that the Phantom Blot is trying to find something dangerous and he was hoping the police would help, but they didn’t believe him. But he can’t stop. The Phantom Blot is an evil man and if he found what he was looking for, thousands could die. He glances at Minnie to see how she is taking this. Unfortunately, she was unreadable and Mickey had no idea what she could be thinking. The both of them just stand there, until she finally speaks again. She slowly admits that she isn’t sure if Mickey should do this, being very careful with the words she says. Mickey asks why. She stutters that the Phantom Blot is really dangerous and a threat beyond anything they can handle. She doesn’t know if Mickey should be the one solving this. Mickey responds that he has to stop him. No one else can and there isn’t much time. Minnie starts to tear up. Mickey quickly comes up to her and starts holding her. Through her tears, she blubbers about what if Mickey gets caught. He could be killed. She could never see him again. She then erupted into a bawling fit, clinging onto Mickey. Mickey just stands there, rubbing her back. He thinks about the moment in the alleyway when he thought about the very same thing. He doesn’t have an answer. For a while, they just stand there holding each other as Minnie sobs. 

One thing about Mickey that Minnie has always loved is his compassion for others. He always seemed to do what would be best for everyone even at the cost of what would be best for him. Minnie always felt like she had to be the one to stand up for Mickey and make sure that his own needs and wants weren’t ignored. But she didn’t mind. She loved Mickey. She would always support Mickey. Or at least she thought she would. And yet now Mickey wanted to make the ultimate sacrifice and risk his life to protect others as usual. She can’t lie. She wanted so badly to beg him to drop this case and that someone else would take care of it. She felt bad since she knew how much this meant to Mickey and the possible lives lost. But she can’t lose him. Not now. They were each other's soulmates. But she knew that Mickey had to do this or he would regret it forever. She had to let him go. But she really didn’t want to. Eventually, Minnie gets out of the hug, gives Mickey a kiss on the cheek, and heads over to the front door, picking up the little kitten on the way back. She apologizes adding that she knows that she can’t stop Mickey. But she isn’t sure how she feels about the situation and needs time to think. She then pleads to Mickey that before he goes, he will go to sleep first. He looks tired and shouldn’t be doing this with little sleep. Mickey nods and promises her he will. And with that, she closes the door. Leaving Mickey. Alone. Part of him is glad that she didn’t try to stop him. But at the same time, he doesn’t know if he exactly got her support. He was unsure how she would respond and had a feeling she wouldn’t react well. Minnie wasn’t the only one who was scared. Mickey was scared too. But he has to see this through. He thought about the promise he just made. To get some sleep. He could at least keep that. He needed to be in top shape if he really wanted to stop the Phantom Blot. But he’ll have to wake up early so that he can get started on his new plan. He held on tightly to the red bow with white polka dots around his neck. Making one more promise in his heart:

I swear that I’ll come back to you Minnie. We will see each other again.

[bitchfitch]

Idk, more rambles about plant elf and big polar bear wolf monster.

Maelgwn, polar bear wolf monster, hates spring. He would never say it out loud, but he detests the season to a truly unreasonable degree.

He dreads it's arrival far more than winter's because winter has already taken everything that it can from him. He feels spring exists just to remind him of that.

His sort hibernate. It's this massive communal thing, all the packs come together in one deep cave to share body heat and wait out the part of winter where the sun never rises. Hes old. Age makes hibernation more and more dangerous every year that passes.

That's part of why he hates spring so much. Winter has taken everything from him, he just needs it to take him too.

Years and years before he would ever give a shit about a king in red whose skin danced with living vine tattoos, Maelgwn had a wife, Amalabairga. She was... Everything. Strong and brilliant and a stubborn workhorse who would lead her people with the same vigor and ruthless determination that she did everything with until her very last breath. They weren't perfect for eachother, But Maelgwn thought it an honor to call her his queen, and a blessing he would never be able to repay to call her his wife.

They weren't perfect, they were both stubborn bulls who bashed heads constantly over the pettiest things. Anyone who didn't know them would assume they despised each other. Anyone who did know them would laugh themselves to pieces over the idea of those two being anything less than absolutely smitten with one and another.

They had pups. Four of them from the same litter. They were so little even when they were already a few years old. They never thrived like they should. The years they had been born into were too harsh, food too scarce and the winds too cold. Maelgwn and Amalabairga adored them more than words could describe.

Everyone besides them saw it coming long before they did. They were blinded by their pride. They were in denial. Neither of them could accept it.

A harsh fall gave way to a harsher winter. The storms came too early. There wasn't time to stock up or put on fat. The winter den wasn't as crowded as it should have been. The sudden freeze blocked off some of the sub packs' routes. It was going to be a horribly cold winter, and they weren't going to have the body heat of an entire pack to keep them warm to the end of it.

There were healers who stayed awake the entire winter to look after the people within the den. To move pups who squirmed too far from their parents back to their sides. To remove the bodies of those that couldn't survive the whole season.

Maelgwn only got to say good bye to the strongest of his four pups. The others went too quickly for the healer to be able to wake him in time. Amalabairga didn't even get that much. Maelgwn often teased her for being a heavy sleeper. He would never do that again.

Neither of them processed it until spring came and the ground thawed enough to lay their frozen pups to rest. Because that's the thing. They could both leave the depths of the cave to sit in the mouth beside their babies, where it was so far below freezing their breath would fill their muzzles with ice on every inhale. the way the four of them were laid... they just looked like they were sleeping, blanketed in fine frost, but still like they would wake along with everyone else come spring.

The healers were used to fighting parents who were in denial. Grief and the disorientation of hibernation could do perfectly reasonable people to do insane things. Like try to stay in the mouth of the den where no living thing could survive for long, or bring their loved ones back to where it was warm.

None of them had expected their king and queen to be the sort to want to lay down beside their lost pups. Both of them had always been so bold and sturdy and stubborn in their refusal to give up. It didn't feel like giving up to either of them. A part of them promised their pups would wake up if they were just kept warm to spring. That was what was supposed to happen after all.

Spring came, and the pups didn't wake. Four new graves amongst thousands more. They didn't even live long enough to earn their names.

Spring gives to summer, Shocked grief turns to rage. It wasn't fair. They did everything right. They were Good Leaders. No one would debate that. They were good parents. They did Everything Right. And it didn't matter in the slightest in the end.

Summer gives to Fall. The years hunts were more than fruitful. They had plenty. If their pups had only made it one more year. Their rage at the situation Needs an outlet. They turn on each other. If Maelgwn hadn't suggested they linger at this hunting ground, if Amalabairga hadn't let them swim in that river. If he hadn't, if she hadn't.

They both new they were being unreasonable lashing out at eachother. Nothing they could have done differently would have made that winter any less cruel. They needed it to be eachothers fault. They needed it to be their fault.

Winter came again. Maelgwn thought he could still see them sleeping in the mouth of the cave. All hibernation long he dreamt of his pups and his wife and of springs they never got to see together. in the rare few moments he would wake to stumble to the underground river to drink, he would dread the next time he opened his eyes. Spring could never come, and he'd be glad for it.

Spring refused to stay its march.

Maelgwn woke to an empty nest. Amalabairga was gone.

Her body wasn't in the mouth. The healers swore they didn't see her go. She was just gone, like she had never been there to begin with.

It would be years until he found out what became of her. The new joy she had found beside a man who could lay her aching heart to ease in a garden that bloomed year-round like it knew nothing but spring.

Maelgwn was never a good match for her, even if they both burned brighter beside one and another. Nothing he could have done would have made her stay even if she did love him every bit as much as he loved her. they were always too similar.

She left him with her responsibilities. Her crown. He was king now, even if he refused to take the title.

So much changed. He got older. He saw many more winters, and through every single one he dreamed of all the mistakes he thought he had made, and all the ways he would do it differently, and all the springs he wanted to see with his pups and their mother. And all the springs he would wake up too without them.

Maelgwn hates spring. Winter took everything from him, and then spring had the gual to remind him of that.

[havecourage-darling]

Right Side Up // 1

Princess Peach Series

|| Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter two: If I only could >>

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Henderson!Reader

wc: ~5.8k

warnings: cursing, mild smut, S4 spoilers, angst with a happy ending

A/N: Hello everyone! So, here she iiiiis - I've had a lot of people ask if I'd be writing a S4 follow along and ta-da! (There should be 6 chapters total.) I'm keeping it in the Princess Peach world, meaning the reader is a Henderson. If you have not read any of the other installments in this series, I personally think you'd still enjoy this but you might be a little confused. Being totally up front, this is absolutely a fix-it fic, Eddie did not die and I have no idea what you're talking about canon, okay cool. Now that we're all on the same paaage...

Chapter One: If I only could

“Are you the prettiest baby in the whole world?” You asked the wide brown-eyed stare focused on you. “Who’s the bestest boy? Oh, yes, it’s you!”

“If you keep that up, I’m going to get jealous,” Eddie said from his trailer door. You ignored him and Frank – Eddie’s neighbor’s dog who stayed over occasionally – went belly up. His muzzle was now littered with white hair but his waggling tail and endearingly excited pants made your heart melt.

“Oh, you’re so handsome, what a good boy,” you cooed, fingers scratching at his pink stomach. One of his little legs twitched happily as your nails caught the right spot.

Eddie’s mouth twisted into something achingly familiar and his eyes glinted. “That’s what you say to me when you lick my-”

“Edward!”

A flash of your events this morning crossed your mind and Eddie smirked. “And I’m the pervert?” He said knowingly.

You shot him a glare, one that he knew you meant: behave.

Eddie’s laughter floated over to you and you rolled your eyes, pulling Frank into your lap. You laid down, sprawled onto a blanket that you kept in Eddie’s van, and bathed in the first warm sunny day in a while. The wind still had a bite to it at night but the afternoon sun was just enough to lull you into a nap.

“So,” Eddie said, settling down next to you, with two glasses of water. You gratefully took one and drank half in one go. “Spring break is soon.”

And it couldn’t come soon enough. You’d been swamped with papers and last-minute homework assignments for the entire week. Submitting your last paper tonight would be the last thing you’d have to do before being blissfully worry free for the entire week to come.

“Thank God,” you muttered, “I don’t want to look at a goddamn economics book again.”

No matter how much Sienna promised you that you’d eventually get it – econ was something dragged up from the seventh layer of hell.

“Spring break is only a week sweetheart. You’ve still got half a semester to go.”

“Never. Again,” you said, pushing out your bottom lip. As predicted, Eddie swooped in and kissed you. Smiling into it, he kissed you once more before leaning back. His hand came down to rub Frank’s velvety ear.

“So, how about we go somewhere for our anniversary?”

“This far in advance?” You asked, looking up at him and shrugging. “I guess we could make reservations for September now.”

“What?” Eddie blinked at you, confused. “Our six-month anniversary, Peach.”

The warm breeze hit the trees behind you, the leaves creating a glittering cascade of sunbeams as they shook. Eddie’s hair fluttered over his shoulders and you got the urge to curl a finger around a strand.

“Next week?” You asked, attention coming back to him. “Do you want to do something special?”

“Well, you just seem so excited,” Eddie said, pretending to be hurt.

Laughing, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek in mock apology. “I’m so sorry, wonderful boyfriend of mine, of course I’d like to do something with you.”

“That sounded better but you could still work on the delivery,” Eddie retorted, “it sounded a little sarcastic.”

Raising a brow, Eddie tried to fight his smile but you saw it anyway. “What are we doing?”

“More like where are we going?”

Perking up, you placed Frank onto the ground between you and crossed your legs. “Eddie.”

“Princess,” he said, his goddamn smug smile making your stomach flip in excitement.

Plucking some of the blades of grass from the ground you chucked them at him. “Where are we going?”

Eddie shot you a look as he pulled them out of his hair. “Gareth’s uncle has a cabin in the woods a few towns over, by that big lake,” Eddie snapped his fingers as if he’d forgotten the name.

“Lake Monroe?” You squeaked, having always wanted to go there. Nancy and Mike had gone like four summers ago and it was beautiful. She swore you’d love it, the hiking trails looked amazing.

“That’s the one,” Eddie smiled at your excited bounces, “his uncle is loaded and has some big house by the lake. It’s got like three floors and a pool.”

Holy shit, you don’t think you’d ever been in a house that big.

“Eddie, don’t mess with me,” you said, pressing your hands together.

“I would never sweetheart,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. “Gareth says he’s in Europe or something for work. I already talked to Keith and for a very humble exchange he agreed to give you Sunday through Thursday off.”

What? Eddie had talked to Keith for you? Shit – sometimes even you were afraid of Keith and you were probably his favorite. Well…his least hated.

“You braved Keith for me?” You asked, touched.

Eddie snorted. “Once I showed him how much I was willing to bargain for, he accepted pretty easily,” he said.

“Still,” you insisted, he’d been planning this for some time if everything seemed set in stone. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“What can I say?” Eddie said, buffing his nails and grinning at you. “I’ll do anything for my warrior princess.”

“My hero,” you swooned, throwing your arms around him and squeaking when he fell onto his back, “if this is what you’re planning for six months, what’s a year going to look like?”

“I’ll get you a flight to the moon,” Eddie joked. “Fleetwood Mac will be there with some pizza ready for a private concert.”

“Would we be alone?” You asked, realizing you weren’t sure if any of your friends were invited.

“On the moon? I’d hope so.”

You smacked his shoulder. “At the lake, dork.”

Eddie’s brows wiggled. “Can’t wait to have your way with me huh? Don’t worry, the house is on directly on the lake and the nearest neighbors are like three miles down the road. You can scream all you want and no one will hear us,” he said, nipping at the underside of your jaw.

“That’s not what I meant,” you said, pinching his side.

He jumped and shot you a glare. “Why is it always violence with you?”

“You love it,” you said, squeezing his shoulder three times – the words left unsaid. Eddie’s playful glare softened into something familiar, something he’d shown you since the first month you’d started dating. Sometimes you thought you’d explode with how much you loved him. The way your heart sped up when you were with him was ridiculous and probably unhealthy.

Eddie’s eyes trailed down your face, his hand coming up from your waist to cradle your cheek. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip and you nipped at the pad. His eyes darkened and you saw the words reflected back at you. Heart singing, you let him pull you down into a slow kiss.

“Yeah,” he said, lips tracing what he couldn’t say onto your skin, “I do.”

This was the first and last time you offered to swap early morning shifts with Keith. You groaned as you started sorting through the returns.

“Remind me why we said yes to a Thursday morning shift?” You called out to Steve, who was half asleep next to the computer.

Well, you knew Keith had you where he wanted you – at his beck and call until your last shift on Saturday. He’d been sure to let you know he’d graciously allowed the time off on short notice because of your strong work ethic. Robin had laughed so hard he’d heard from his office.

“Because we’re money hungry, Keith sucks, and Robin has school,” he groaned, rubbing sleep from one of his eyes. “I will give you all the money from my next paycheck if you go across the street and get us coffees.”

You snorted so hard you almost choked. “Tough sell Harrington. You’re closer to the door.”

“You’re the better person,” Steve huffed.

“I am,” you agreed, laughing when he shot you a look. “Uh, Steve?”

“What?” He said, voice muffled as he hid his face into his elbow.

“Is that cheerleader walking towards us Chrissy Cunningham or am I hallucinating without the caffeine in my bloodstream?”

Steve sat up, squinted, and turned towards the windows. “Oh shit, it is.”

“Fuck, do you see Carver around? He’s just like fucking Tommy,” you hissed, hating the little spark of panic you felt in your stomach. It was too early to start a fight.

“No, she’s alone, oh shit – she’s really coming this way,” Steve said scrambling up and trying to look like you both weren’t just gawking at her.

The bell above the door rang as she pushed it open, a bright smile erupting on her face. Her eyes were wide and you couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Hi,” you said stupidly.

“Hi! Good morning!” She grinned, waving at a stunned Steve. You kicked him under the counter and he grunted.

“Hey,” he said. You shot him a look – smooth, Harrington.

“Can I help you find something?” You asked, a little thrown by her sunshine energy. Something…felt off about her. Trying your best to look nonchalant, you took in her jittering leg and wringing hands.

Chrissy’s face turned a fascinating beet red and you glanced at Steve who shrugged. “Um, I was actually looking for Eddie,” she mumbled, eyes widening even further.

“Oh,” you blinked, “well, um, he’s not here? He’s probably just waking up to be honest. He doesn’t really hang around here during the mornings. I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon.”

Her eyes shifted and you felt a surge of possessiveness.

“He’s my boyfriend so, if you’re here to set up some prank I can assure you that I won’t take kindly to it. I’m not someone you want to piss off either.” You felt Steve come up behind you, his foot nudging yours.

Chrissy’s eyes jerked up to yours and she shook her head earnestly. “I wouldn’t do that, I swear!” She turned her eyes to Steve and he nudged you again. “Really, I promise.”

And for some reason – you believed her.

“Oh, well, he’s um…not here,” you finished lamely. Chrissy scuffed her shoe on the carpet and you winced as an awkward silence settled. Steve cleared his throat after a beat and Chrissy jumped as if she’d been poked. Why did she look so spooked? You glanced at the doors, looking for anyone waiting for her. If you hadn’t been so thrown off, you’d say she looked…scared.

Her eyes darted around the store nervously. “He talks about you a lot, you know? I’ve seen you at the movies with him. You both make a cute couple,” she said, expression shifting to something soft.

“Oh,” you said, scratching at the back of your neck, “thank you.” What the hell did you say to something like that?

She leaned in closely, eyes anxiously on Steve. “I’m, um, looking to buy,” she whispered. You bit back a laugh, not wanting to come off rude but you doubted that Chrissy knew how to even roll a joint. Shit, you barely knew how to roll one.

“I don’t help Eddie out with that side of his business,” you said and you didn’t. Eddie was trying to save up as much as he could for a new apartment, one you had an inkling he was going to ask you to move into eventually. Which, was probably why he was taking so long to save.

You knew he felt embarrassed at being known as the local drug dealer no matter how many times you assured him otherwise. He was waiting for graduation to find a better job - you thought he’d like the record store downtown. Either way, Eddie rarely let you come with him to deliver and even less to stock up again.

“He actually had a gig a town over so that’s probably why you haven’t seen him,” you said. “I’ll tell him to keep an eye out for you. He’ll bring you what he has tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, looking desperate and relieved. With another curious glance, you realized that she actually screamed of exhaustion, like she hadn’t slept in weeks.  

“Are you okay?” You asked her, throwing it out there. Chrissy looked startled and she, once again, looked nervously around the store.

“Yeah, totally, I just really need something,” she said, cheeks pink. “Thank you for helping.”

Before you could say anything else, she all but ran out the doors.

“Well, that was weird,” you said after a beat of silence.

Steve laughed, dropping his head back into his arms. “Everyone gets stressed in the last final months before graduation,” he said, eyes closing, “you almost choked me out when I spilled my soda over your textbook.”

“I had a final the next day!”

“I barely got the cover wet!” He retorted.

You rolled your eyes and chucked a paperclip at his head. “The cover is important too!”

The man in question barged in a few hours later, five minutes before your shift ended.

“Lady Henderson,” he called out, smile wide and eyes bright. You grinned, shifting your body towards him and taking in his outfit. He’d worn his favorite black Metallica t-shirt – the one with the tear in the collar - and your smile widened when the memory of Eddie ripping it as he tore it off you a few weeks ago flashed across your memory.

The mischievous glint in his eyes as he kissed your cheek said he knew what you were thinking of.

“Hello,” you said, grabbing his chin and kissing him properly. He made a happy noise that you wanted to sink into and almost jumped when Steve’s groan echoed in the empty store.

“Every time! Do you need to rub salt into the wound guys?” Steve said, huffing. He’d been conned by Robin into staying with her until closing and was cranky about it. Robin, however, looked like she’d won a gold medal.

“Hey Munson,” Robin said, coming out the back with a stack of tapes.

“Lady Buckley,” he greeted, bowing.

Without preamble, you’d grabbed your bag and sweater, already ducking under the counter. “See you guys on Saturday!” You called out, not having a shift tomorrow since you normally had class.

This time, however, Eddie wanted to take you to your favorite Italian restaurant two towns over to celebrate the beginning of spring break and your road trip up. He’d made the reservations earlier yesterday and you could practically taste the garlic bread already.

Intertwining his fingers with yours, Eddie brought your hand up to his lips. “I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” you said, pushing the door open and pulling him towards his van. “Did you tell Wayne about our trip?”

“Yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes and flushing a little. “He loaned me his duffel to take with me.”

“That’s nice?” You said, not sure why he was turning red.

“He’d packed about a month’s worth of condoms,” Eddie said, huffing.

You froze, stopping in front of the van. His eyes were firmly on the door in front of you and you threw your head back in laughter.

“I don’t know why you find this so funny. It’s weird when your family knows you’ve having sex,” Eddie grumbled, opening your door for you and herding you in. You were still chuckling when he hopped in on the other side. “Princess, please.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, hiding behind your hand. “It’s just – so funny how much you hate it.”

“I’m glad my pain brings you pleasure,” he said, smiling. Eddie threw the van into reverse and pulled out the parking lot. The radio blared to life, surprising you, and you turned the volume down a little.

“You know, considering how much you can’t keep it in your pants we’ll probably go through them before we’re back,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him, never one to skip the chance to tease him, “especially considering the bathing suit I’m bringing with me.”

Eddie groaned and you knew that he was picturing you in the suit you’d shown him earlier in the week.

“I remember being worried that if I didn’t tie it hard enough the top slips off,” you said, tapping your chin, “since we’ll be alone it doesn’t seem like that’ll be problem. Right, sweetheart?”

“Princess, I’m driving,” he said, shifting himself.

“You’re too easy,” you smiled, tucking a leg under you.

Shooting you a glare, he sighed. “What movie did you get for us this time?” He asked, voice still a little strained.

“Since your pick last week was horrible, I went for a classic.”

“Not Splash again,” Eddie sighed.

“Hey, it’s dealer’s choice – no complaining! I sat through a Nightmare on Elm Street for you.”

“At least let me grab some beer so I can get through it,” he said.

“Deal,” you said, bumping his fist.

After a pitstop for beer and pizza, you were snuggled into the sofa in a pair of shorts and Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt within the hour. Pressing play, you watched as Tom Hanks followed Daryl Hannah.

“You know, The Breakfast Club wasn’t as bad as this – and that’s saying something,” Eddie complained, dropping into the couch next to you.

“Ah, ah, no commentary please. Besides, you like romantic comedies!” You said as Eddie pulled your legs onto his lap.

Eddie shot you a look. “I am a man of many genres-” you snorted and he ignored you, “- I simply don’t like this one.”

“Well tough luck,” you said, sinking further into the cushions. You could feel Eddie’s eyes on you as Daryl observed the televisions curiously. “You’re not watching the movie.”

“You’re more interesting,” he said, “did you know that you mouth along to some of the lines?”

“I do not,” you huffed, poking him with your foot. His hand caught your ankle, his fingers dancing across the delicate skin making you tense up. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said, innocently glancing up at you.

Yeah, okay, you snorted. “We’re not even halfway through the movie,” you groaned. Eddie’s hand drifted higher towards your bare thigh. “Eddie.”

“Hmm?” He said, pressing a kiss to your knee. A jolt of electricity that always hit you whenever Eddie was around shot through you.

You resisted for a few more minutes, his lips traveling up to your shoulder. While your attention had been slipping, you’d only closed your eyes when he bit down onto the sensitive patch of skin at the base of your neck. “I hate you,” you breathed, your voice hitching when he nudged you onto your back.

“Sure seems like it,” he teased, hair curtaining around you. Legs falling open, as if by habit, Eddie grinned as he settled between them. “Absolutely loathe me, do you?”

“You’re unbearable, you know that? Next week I’m seducing you two seconds into your movie.”

Eddie chuckled into your skin, the rumble of his chest travelling into your own. “Feel free to feel me up whenever you want, princess. I promise you; I won’t fight it.”

“Shut up,” you said, patience snapping. Lifting your hips to press against his, he hissed at the pressure. Before he could say something smug and full of himself, you fisted his hair and brought him down to you. Lips clashing together, you wrapped your legs around his hips and kept him close. Swallowing one of his groans, you tugged on his hair lightly and Eddie froze.

“I feel like the situation has managed to run away from me,” he panted, jumping when you palmed him through his pajamas. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that this is going to end before the fun really begins.”

Huffing a laugh, you let your hand drift up higher to his side and Eddie’s eyes screwed shut as you bit down onto his neck. “Your sorcery won’t get the best of me,” he said shakily.

“Won’t it?” You smirked, lapping at bite. With a grunt, Eddie managed to capture both your wrists and press them above your head. He grinned, stupidly excited to have caught you off guard, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Keeping your arms up, despite his loose hold, you let him take the upper hand.

Daryl, on the television, cried and you caught a flash of blonde that reminded you of something.

"Oh,” you said, Chrissy’s face swimming to the front of your mind. “Cunningham was looking for you." You squirmed as he sucked what would no doubt be a very visible hickey onto your neck.

“Who?” Eddie asked, uninterested, as he focused on nipping your skin. He dropped your wrists to ruck your shirt up above your chest. His hand quickly unhooked your bra, pulling it up, and his warm hand had your breath hitching as he trailed light touches across your bare skin.

“Cheerleader,” you breathed when he licked at the valley between your breasts, hands kneading your skin.

“There’s a lot of them.”

You sighed as his teeth scraped across a particularly sensitive spot. “Blonde, short, bubbly.”

Eddie huffed, breath fanning over your skin and your skin erupted in goosebumps. “Princess, that’s half the squad.”

You sighed, pulling back from his grasp. “She’s Jason’s girlfriend? I think.”

“Sure?” He said, "I'm trying to seduce you over here and you're talking about cheerleaders."

“Don't worry sweetheart, Jason's not my type,” you joked.

Eddie nipped at the swell of your breast in retaliation. "Please don't say another dude's name while we're naked together. I'm sensitive."

"Bossy, bossy," you said, shoving him over so that you were on top. Eddie's arms came to rest behind the back of his head and he grinned at the view. You trailed a hand down his chest, stilling above his buckle. "Look, just..."

Sensing your shifting mood, he propped himself up on his arms and ducked to catch your eyes. "What? What's wrong?"

“She looked desperate, scared? I don't know," you said, trying to remember her expression. "Just - could you make sure she is…okay? Before selling her anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll take a look,” he assured you, "don't worry."

“Yeah? Thank you," you kissed him, relishing in his immediate reciprocation.

“Can I go back to what I was doing now?” He asked, eyes dropping back to your chest.

Pretending to consider the situation for a beat, you nodded. “Proceed.” Without waiting, you laughed when he surged up and suctioned himself to you.

“Hold on, let me take this off,” you said, starting to pull his shirt over your head.

Eddie’s hand on yours made you go still. “Wait, can you keep it on?” He asked, pupils blown.

You glanced down at his club t-shirt and grinned. “You want to remember this every time you wear it, don’t you?”

“Am I that easy to read?” He asked, shameless.

Kissing him deeply, you smiled into it. “To me? Yeah.” You pulled your bra out from the sleeves and tossed it onto the floor.  

Eddie grinned, ecstatic at your answer, and leaned over the back of the couch to break open the new box of condoms. You let out a surprised burst of laughter and Eddie quirked his brow. “Wanna share with the class?”

“Nothing, just that – Wayne’s gift is being useful already.”

He froze. “Henderson, definitely don’t mention my uncle’s name when I’ve got a condom in my hand,” he groaned, shaking his head, “that’s worse than the first one.”

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed, not sounding even remotely sorry. Eddie growled, flipping you back over. Out of breath, and astounded that neither of you had tumbled off the sofa, you caught sight of the time. “Hey, it’s officially Friday.”

“Two more days until we’re on the road,” he said, kissing you, “and out of this fucking cursed town, even if it’s just for five days.”

“Gosh,” you said, voice bright, “I wonder what we’ll do for five days? All alone…in a cabin in the woods…”

“I’m sure we’ll entertain ourselves somehow,” Eddie said, hands inching towards the seam between your thighs.

You gasped, heart fluttering when he smiled. “I’m sure we will.”

“Are you wearing the shirt I had on last night?” You asked, squinting against the sun streaming into his trailer and sipped your coffee.

Eddie glanced down at his chest and smiled. “Guess I am.” He flipped the pancake and slid it onto your overflowing plate. Sleep clung to both of you, making everything fuzzy.

“Why do I feel like that wasn’t an accident?” You asked, drowning your fluffy pile in syrup. “At least wash it first.”

“I resent the implication,” he said, grasping at his imaginary pearls. “How dare you even imply that-”

“-I mean it’s a miracle if that didn’t get dirty after what you did.”

“We did, you mean?” He said, waggling his brows. “I surprise even myself sometimes.”

“Oh, so humble too,” you grinned, giving him a sugary kiss when he bent over your shoulder for one.

“You’re the one who screamed so loud I thought Max’s mom was going to come over and ask if we were okay,” he teased, “was that a new record?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, hiding your smile behind your mug. You hadn’t been able to walk straight last night and Eddie was being unbearable about it.

Eddie smirked, humming as he placed the pan in the sink. He sank into the seat next to you, curling his ankle around yours. The vinyl table rocked a little when either of you placed your elbows onto it and the sounds of the trailer park waking up snuck its way into your peaceful quiet but to you, these mornings were perfect.

“Hey,” you said, curving your fingers over his wrist. “Do you mind dropping me off before you go in?” You usually slept in and drove yourself home on movie nights.

“Sure,” he said, chewing on a bite, “I can pick you up at eight? The campaign should be done by six. That way we’ll have enough time to make it to the restaurant.”

“I got a new outfit for tonight,” you said, licking a drop of syrup that had trailed down to your wrist, feeling his eyes on you,“I think you’ll like it.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s eyes darkened and you smirked. “What color is it? How short?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you said, licking the tip of your fork clean.

Without much warning, Eddie grabbed your wrist and dragged you towards his room. You stumbled, taken by surprise, hand reaching for your half-full mug. “Eddie, wait – my coffee’s going to get cold!”

“I’ll brew you a new pot,” he said, pushing you down onto the bed. You bounced once before you watched him rip his pajamas off. “We’ve got thirty minutes before we have to get out of here. Good news? I’m only half dressed.”

“Oh, but I’m the insatiable one,” you snorted, already wiggling out of your shorts.

“It’s that spell of yours,” he said, chasing your lips, “it’s too strong, warrior princess.”

Laughing, you gave into his nudging and wrapped your legs around his waist. “It won’t fall or falter, you know. I make sure it’s ready to weather whatever comes. You’re mine, remember?”

A genuine, small, smile grew on Eddie’s face, the heat in his eyes softening to something deeper – something dear to you.

“Yeah, I remember.”

It had felt like Eddie had just dropped you off home when the phone rang. Sprawled on your bed, you groaned. Crawling towards your night stand, you barely managed to grab the receiver before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” You huffed, a little out of breath.

“Mrs. Henderson?” A familiar stern voice called out.

You straightened, eyes widening. “Yes?” You said, clearing your throat to try and imitate your mother’s. “Who is calling?”

“We’re calling from Hawkins High. This is the front office and I’m calling because your son has requested he speak to you urgently.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Hello?”

“What the fuck?” You hissed. “A little warning would be nice. What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing!” He squeaked. “Please, please, please-”

You groaned. “No, Dustin, I had a long night and today’s the first day of spring break. I was going to nap. I haven’t slept more than three hours in a week.”

“Have I ever told you how you’re my favorite? Of all time?”

“Ugh, Dustin.”

“I swear, I’ll owe you for the rest of the year.”

“What? What do you want?”

“I forgot my midterm paper for English on my desk.”

“You want me to bring it to you?”

“Preferably within the next two hours. It’s my last class of the day and like worth half of my grade!”

“Dustin,” you whined, not wanting to move.

“Please?”

“Fine,” you hissed, knowing there’s no way you wouldn’t have done it anyway. “You owe me.”

“Holy shit, thank you!”

“Language!”

And that’s how you found yourself back at Hawkins Highschool, a visitor’s pass stuck to the front of Eddie’s hoodie – that you’d stolen – looking for your little brother like Gollum following the one ring.

“Jesus, where the fuck is he?” You grumbled, checking the time.

Lunch, you realized. Spinning on your heel, you made your way to the cafeteria. Right as you turned into the hallway, a familiar voice shouted your name.

“Buckley!” You grinned, throwing an arm around her. “Skipping out on lunch?”

“More like late to lunch,” she grumbled, wrapping her arm around your waist. “My calculus teacher gave me a few extra minutes on my midterm.”

“Aced it?”

“Listen, Cs get degrees,” Robin snorted, pushing the swinging doors open into the chaos. “What are you doing here? I thought you took the day off to catch up on sleep.”

“Dustin,” you sighed, “forgot his English paper. I’m thinking of making him cook me breakfast every morning until Christmas.”

“Oh, or do your laundry!”

You gave her a high-five. “I like how you think.”

“I’m gonna grab food – Dustybuns is with your boyfriend by the windows, see you tomorrow?” She said, squeezing your arm once before stumbling off towards the questionable food.

Glancing towards the tables on the left-hand side your eyes met Eddie’s. Confused, he straightened and lit up anyway. Looking to see what had caught his eye, Mike followed his stare. Smiling, he nudged Dustin who scrambled to his feet and jogged over to you.

“Oh my God, you’re the fucking best,” he said, snatching the folder from your hands. “I owe you my life.”

“I was thinking laundry for the rest of the year,” you said, wrapping your arm around his shoulders.

“What?” He screeched; gob smacked. “Don’t you think that’s a little far?”

You narrowed your eyes at him and he grumbled. Walking over towards their table, you were suddenly intercepted by a wall of muscle. Jason Carver’s patronizing eyes took you both in.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Henderson siblings,” he sneered, quick hands snatching the folder in Dustin’s hands. Your brother squeaked, eyes widening and you sighed. Was there ever going to be an end to this?

Without hesitating, and with speed that would make Max proud, you grabbed the folder back from him. Pushing Dustin a step behind you, you took one towards Jason. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve last seen me, Carver, but if you need a refresher of that sucker punch I gave you before I graduated; I’m happy to do an encore.”

His eyes narrowed and he took another step forward, his chest almost brushing against you. “I don’t remember what you’re referring to, unfortunately,” he hissed.

Eyes flashing, you clenched your hand and Jason’s eyes shifted to them. “You should call your buddy Tommy, see how picking on me and my brother ended up for him,” you said loudly, his friends snorting behind him.

While you hated the confrontation and they’d both taken every opportunity to take jabs at you – you’d learned very early on that you could never roll over. With a swift move forward, Jason flinched minutely but it was enough for you to smirk.

“Catch you later Carver,” you said, grabbing Dustin’s sleeve, and hitting his shoulder with your own as you passed by.

“Holy shit,” Gareth said, eyes wide and excited. “You just almost punched Jason Carver.”

“She just got him to flinch,” Jeff hissed, glancing over at their table. “I forgot how badass you are.”

“I didn’t,” Eddie said, his arms coming to your waist and pulling you firmly into his lap. “Hey warrior princess.”

“Hi,” you said, kissing his temple.

“Ugh, guys, please,” Dustin groaned.

You glared at him and he shrunk. “I suggest you not say anything lest I shred that folder.”

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” Eddie said into your ear. You rolled your eyes and tugged on his shirt.

“I can’t believe you really wore that,” you said.

“It’s the last campaign,” Eddie said, grin mischievous, “what else would I wear?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Mike asked, eyes wandering over Eddie’s regular Hellfire shirt.

Eddie snorted and you sighed. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head.

“Still smells like you,” he muttered. You reached beneath your leg to pinch his and he jumped. “Now, now, no need to resort to violence.”

“I’ll show you violence,” you grumbled, leaning into his warmth.

The bell rang, a five-minute warning, and like always, everyone in the cafeteria ignored it.

The basketball team stood, however, and a pair of blue eyes burned a hole into your back.

“I should’ve known, the town Freak and Henderson would shack up together,” Jason said as he passed towards the door. A few of his friends chuckled, shooting you looks.

Jesus Christ did these guys not have anything better to do? You’d forgotten how judgmental this town could be. “Do you just like the sound of your own voice?” You snapped back. “The adults are having a conversation sweetie; remedial math is that way.”

Gareth snorted, water coming out his nose and Jeff pounded his back, eyes riveted.

“You just let you girl handle your battles?” Jason called out, trying to have the last word.  

“Uh, yeah, I make a cute damsel in distress,” he said, batting his eyes and everyone at the table laughed. Jason and company scowled and disappeared through the doors.

“See you tonight?” Eddie asked, kissing the edge of your jaw tenderly. You pecked him once before standing up. “Can’t wait to see the infamous outfit.”

Grinning, you walked towards the side exit. “See you,” you said, and with the eyes you felt watching you why not take a page out of Eddie’s book? You blew him an exaggerated kiss, knowing he’d get your point. Eddie pretended to catch it and tumbled backwards off his seat with excessive force. The table laughed, Dustin pretending to gag, and Eddie dusted his shirt off as he stood. He pretended to put in his pocket and smiled at you.

“Behave, children are present,” Eddie said loudly, a fake bashful expression on his face.

You winked, grinning, and disappeared out door. Dinner tonight couldn’t come fast enough.