#and frankly his protests read more like he wasn’t actually comfortable with the idea of showing two male presenting characters

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Saw your Neil Gaiman post and as someone that found comfort in Good Omens (and got hyperfixated on it), I'm finally glad that some people are finally talking about how he isn't that great.

Even as a Fan, GOmens fandom is so...weird. See, in other fandoms people won't give much of a flying f/ck about the authors besides some mild respect or praise, but GOmens praise Neil SO HARD, despite giving off some iffy vibes (that now I understand why, after that big post) Never liked how almost every single POC character in GO has such a minimal role, same with women characters, the fact he's been caught (and that can be easily checked) lying about his ideas surrounding GOmens, the way he went from "Is not a romance, but it can be if you want to" -> "i always wrote it as a love story" also how he went from "There won't be another season because of Terry and because the ideas for the next book were incorporated in the show" -> "It was in 2019 when I finished writing S2 with the ideas I discussed with Terry before he died" and like seriously no one never noticed how much of a clown he his lying and backpedalling all over again again? Then there's how bad rep for fat people Sandman was and instead of accepting criticism he just keeps giving some "vague intelligent answer" and sits and waits for his legion of fans with a parasocial relationship to defend him. But somehow he's treated as a world treasure and a genius with a big brain. And this is less problematic and more petty but I'll be honest. He isn't that much of a good writer anyway? The prose is okay is good, but the worldbuilding and lore and characters is mostly edgy and lacks deepness. His fans seriously want to make a sea out of muddle puddles,,, and that's fair! Is such a big part of fan culture to dig into the smallests of things and make an universe out of a cardbox background character, but please, don't give Neil the credit that he doesn't deserve. And what proves more to me that he isn't that good of a writer, is just...take a look at that mess of a S2 of Good Omens, it was so bad that some people had to THEORIZE that it was bad on purpose. I have such a beef with S2, characters like Muriel, Saraqael and Michael and Maggie and Nina were so heavily promoted and of course everyone was hyped, finally more POC, more disabled characters, and yay, women! And they're lesbians! And and...and hold on, how it is that Muriel didn't do that much at all? How it is that Saraqael after being so hyped BARELY had almost nothing to do, is really that all the disabled rep we got? How is it that Michael and Uriel barely had anything to do and were just background characters again? It just angers me with how with so many fem-presenting characters, and POC and disabled persons cast, they literally add nothing to the series, AND NO ONE EVER TALKS ABOUT IT. Is just this endless praise for Neil and his oh big brain. All praise Neil Gaiman, our lord and saviour of queer people. HOW IT IS, THAT THE TWO LESBIANS HYPED ROMANCE WAS ALL RELATED TO AZIRAPHALE MEDDLING WITH THEM TRYING TO SHIP THEM? And it also was bad, very badly done, is really this the women representation we got, seriously??? Talking about misleading advertising.

S2 was such such a mess, it just shows how much Good Omens needed Terry to be, well, Good Omens. I really suspect Neil stole ideas from the fandom because S2 was just a trainwreck of all the fanfic tropes you could find in GO fandom and is almost disrespectful to Terry's work in Good Omens, and I don't care for how much Neil makes his friendship with Terry as a pity party and as a "it gives me so much joy, Terry would be so happy", because seriously it's almost manipulative. Talking about Manipulative. His meddling with fandom is starting to feel unprofessional, but this ask is already long... Sorry lmao, something on me snapped after getting finally the solid evidence that Neil .Is. Not. Great

Oh he’s always been completely unprofessional but since he types in a mixture of corporate-speak and “cool dad” talk his fanbase doesn’t notice.

Here’s the thing about Neil, he’s both petty and extremely insincere. People criticized lolicon sin his presence and he was so offended on the behalf of weirdos who pleasure themselves to Hentai depicting child molestation that he wrote a several paragraph long response dismissing simulated child pornography as simply being “icky speech” that should be protected by the sacred American constitution despite, you know, the fact he’s not even American so his weird obsession with the first amendment and only ever really bringing it up to defend simulated child porn is and always has been suspicious.

As for his backpedalling, the man sees $$$$ and just goes for anything he can find to make more. People love to say “oh but he donates tens of thousands to charity!” yeah, usually to HIS charity for bailing out pedophiles. With funds typically out of the wallets of his fans due to fundraising it rather than coming out of his own checkbook so it’s not exactly a charitable action as much as it’s an empty gesture. And frankly he almost certainly just does it for tax benefits if we’re going to be honest here. He continued good omens because it would make money and generate more attention towards him and he’d be the brave hero who brought back show that did well. That’s it.

He’s just discount, off-brand Elon. Rich white man who thinks he’s gods gift to man despite bumbling through even the most basic concepts because his fans would walk into traffic blindfolded to defend him from even the mildest of criticism.

People on here just like him because they’re starstruck that a creator of a popular IP is active on this site and because he produces media that’s adapted with white middle aged twinks who are dubiously romantically affiliated.

[loverboy-cc]

True That Love in Withdrawal (Was The Weeping of Me)

Goro Akechi at his core is not a patient man. He can muster up patience should he need to for one reason or another, but it’s not as inherent to him as it is to someone such as Ren. In hindsight, he’d been set up. Ren knew exactly what he was doing with his little… Idea.

Hiiiii I spent so long on this lmao, if u want to read it on ao3 here it is!

Pairing: Akechi Goro/Akiren

Tags: Porn With Plot, Anal, Aphrodisiacs, Bets & Wagers, Light Orgasm Delay/Denial, Semi-Public Sex

WC: 3.8k :D

Goro Akechi at his core is not a patient man. He can muster up patience should he need to for one reason or another, but it’s not as inherent to him as it is to someone such as Ren. 

That lack of patience, or maybe a lack of foresight, currently has him hunched over his desk. Aggressively fisting his drooling and painfully hard cock.

In hindsight, he’d been set up.

Ren knew exactly what he was doing with his little… Idea.

“Goro.”

“Yes, Ren?”

Beautiful steel gray eyes he’s found himself adoring more and more, much to his own behest and a sweet, gentle smile. 

“I have an idea, and a prize for you if you’ll hear me out.”

Hook, line, and fucking sinker. Goro had stepped eagerly into the trap Ren laid out for him in the comfortable warmth of Leblanc. Lured in by the mere concept of a prize, because a prize means there’s competition. And Goro was keen on winning against Ren for once in his sad, shitty life.

Even then, when Ren actually explained his idea Goro was given the option to deny it. Given the… unstable nature of their current relationship. With Goro still reeling from his failure to execute the raven haired man that had been standing across from him, and said man ignoring the protests of literally a dozen people to seek him out. He should’ve walked away, or at least said no.

Coherent thought and Ren's existence in his life never went hand in hand, and that wasn’t about to change now.

He gasped and bit back a frankly pathetic whimper, technically he’d already lost. But Ren wouldn’t know that, he could chase his own satisfaction here and still get his prize.

“I’m going to put an aphrodisiac in your coffee and if you can last until you get off work I will do literally whatever you want.”

“I beg your pardon?”

They had barely been within 6 feet of each other since the incident. Goro had a hell of a time getting Ren's gray matter out of his uniform, and is still fighting to rid himself of the mental image of his lover’s rival's dead eyes looking up at him as his blood pooled around him on the cold metal table. Which made touching the object of his terror difficult, especially since a not insignificant part of him was convinced he was hallucinating and touching Ren would make him dissipate like it did every other hallucination of his.

“When you say anything, do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Then I accept your little challenge.”

The casual way Ren stated the idea should’ve been his first warning, and the sheer mirth that painted Ren's expression when he agreed should’ve been his second.

He leaned back and sighed, this clearly wasn’t going anywhere useful and his dick is starting to hurt in a much more unpleasant way than the dull ache of being unbearably horny.

He didn’t have a plan for what he was going to get Ren to do.

…

He’s spectacular at lying to people, years of being the detective prince taught him well. Lying to himself was a much more daunting task, and one that he rarely succeeded in.

He has plenty of things he had planned on asking Ren to do when he won. Ranging from licking his shoes and apologizing like the pathetic attic trash he is, all the way to pushing him against the bar in Leblanc and-

He hissed indignantly and forced himself to sit on his hands. He was not about to actually lose to Ren, nor acknowledge that for the first time this afternoon he’d been getting off properly. All because in his mind's eye the hands on him were Rens and not his own.

Loki cackled, the low scratchy noise filling his ears as the god taunted him. Mocking him with how 30 full minutes of jerking off did nothing but frustrate him, but mere seconds after he imagined Ren touching him he was teetering on the edge.

He could, theoretically, text Ren.

Was it still a loss if Ren- Yes.

God he hated himself, but he desperately needed to get some work done and in his current state that wasn’t an option. Explaining himself was also off the table based on how his voice evaded him whenever he tried to speak.

So, in a jarringly out of character moment of weakness, he closed his eyes and thought of Ren.

He came almost immediately, catching the majority in a napkin before tossing it into the little black trash can under his desk. Considering the bin for a moment before burying the object of his embarrassment a bit further into the paper, more so he doesn’t have to see it and be reminded of all of this than someone questioning why there was a particularly sticky napkin in his trash.

He realized a moment later that he is still extraordinarily hard, and that getting off didn’t help with his current situation. It arguably made it worse if he was honest with himself.

His attention snaps to his phone, the quiet buzz taunting him with possibilities. It could be Sae asking him about work, it could be Shido with a new list of names.

It could be Ren.

He hoped in no small part that it was the latter of the three, because then at least he has an excuse to talk to the man.

Ren: u doing ok?

Thank god. 

Goro: I’m doing perfectly fine, I’ve actually been able to get quite a bit of work done. Goro: I do hope you don’t value your dignity, I plan on taking full advantage of my prize.

The thought of taking Ren's dignity stirs a new warmth inside of him, the idea of taking the great and powerful leader of the Phantom Thieves down a notch or 10 stirring up a much more feral desire for the beautiful man.

Ren: Oh? Well I’m looking forward to whatever you have planned ;)

Cocky bastard, he much more eagerly palms at his arousal this time. Goro will enjoy wiping that stupid, smug, unbelievably hot smirk off his face-

The knock at his door sends him reeling and the weight of what he’s doing crashes down onto him as he hurriedly stuffs his dick back into his pants before shakily saying

“Yes? What do you need?” His voice wavers and he prays he doesn’t look as disheveled as he feels. Sae steps into his office wearing a frustrated expression that morphs quickly into concern at his state.

“I came to discuss another mental shutdown case, are you alright? No one has heard from you today and you’re flushed.”

Shit- fuck- oh dear god-

“Ah my apologies Sae-san, I’ve got a bit of a cold. I didn’t expect it to affect me this much.”

He takes on his princely persona with practiced ease, feigning his apology all too well.

“If that’s the case please go home and rest, I can take over for you today.”

It takes him every ounce of willpower not to cheer. 

“I appreciate it Sae-san, next time we get sushi let me cover it as thanks alright?”

She nods and removes herself from his office, and he’s never left the station faster in his life. The train ride to Yongen-Jaya feels endless and a small part of him prays that Ren is there and not busy, after all it is 3pm on a Sunday.

Doubt settles in his mind, what if he was busy? Goro wasn’t sure if he could physically handle not immediately leaping into the arms of the man already, the thought of Ren's body pressed against his own being a feeling he misses far more than he’d ever admit. But having got the blessing of Sae letting him leave early only to be forced to wait anyway? 

The thought doesn’t get the opportunity to linger as he steps off the train, only to come face to face with the man who’d been invading his mind all afternoon.

“Good timing, I was going to come see you.”

Goro ignores the way his heart leaps.

“Oh? What for?”

He does his best to keep his princely mask up, but it’s always harder when it’s Ren, and with the memories of his fantasies still all too fresh in his mind it’s difficult to look the man in the eye.

“I wanted to see how you were doing, you clearly were lying when you texted me.”

“Ah… I suppose you’ve caught me.”

The proud little smirk on Ren's face doesn’t go unnoticed, and Goro raised an eyebrow.

“Oh I didn’t actually know if you’d been lying, I had a hunch you had because it’s you , but thank you for confirming it.”

Goro doesn’t really have time to reply before Ren takes his hand and drags him away. The single point of contact somehow sets his entire body on fire as Ren pulls him along. Had he been able to pay attention he would’ve recognized the path to Leblanc, but his entire focus was pinned on the firm grip Ren held on him, the warmth of his flesh managing to seep through his gloves. What he wouldn’t give to feel those hand on-

The soft jingle of the bells on the door of cafe Leblanc ripped him from his thoughts, with Sojiro nowhere to be found.

It would settle into his head much later that Ren had planned this too, but for now all he could feel was the soft lips on his and the fire under his skin as he pulled Ren closer, long past the point of no return. Something deep inside him wanted to run, to abandon this entire day and curl up in bed with featherman reruns until he could haul himself back onto his feet and into work.

That idea was thoroughly squashed when Ren pushed him against the door, the entrance bells jingling lightly as they collided again. Goro let himself grind against Ren, melting into the low growl it ripped from his chest. There’s little he wouldn’t do in this moment to get more out of Ren, more noises, more touch, anything Ren could give him he’d take with open arms.

He doesn’t need to wait long. 

Ren breaks the kiss and Goro finds himself chasing his lips, craving the touch, but all Ren does is smirk and grab his tie. Dragging him up the stairs into the attic as he spoke.

“I heard from a little birdie that you lost and didn’t plan on telling me. I knew you feel the need to win every game you play but I didn’t expect the noble detective prince to stoop to cheating.”

His title hits him like a slap in the face and he valiantly fights the urge to fall for the bait, the suddenness of the words shocking him into a moment of clarity. Ren wanted him to react, it’s the only time he called him that.

Goro is on a losing streak today.

“A little bird? So you had Sakura-chan do your dirty work for you, how pathetic.” The words fly out of his mouth with a harsh sneer and the glee that paints Ren's face makes Goro a special kind of nervous. He steels his crimson gaze and prays to any deity that will listen that he didn’t just obliterate his chance to get closer to the Phantom Thieves infamous leader.

“I may have, but you’re the one who gave her something to find.” 

He’s not sure when he landed on Ren's bed, nor when the lithe man made himself comfortable between his thighs, but he was aware of it now. With Ren kissing him harshly, aggressive and open mouthed kisses that made their teeth click together. While large deft hands worked his uniform off, confident like he’d done it a million times over.

The pang of jealousy at the idea of Ren sleeping with anyone but him is added to the ever growing pile of feelings he’s ignoring. Choosing instead to run his fingers through curly black locks and pulling . The motion forced a low groan out of Ren and a harsh bite on his bottom lip as he finally got Goro’s pants off.

Had his mind been clearer he probably would’ve made some snide comment about Ren's staring. Or at least had the shame to close his legs, but he didn’t. Goro basked eagerly in the undivided attention of the mastermind currently unbuttoning his jacket and kissing him stupid.

Once his jacket was off Ren's attention shifted from his lips to his chest, humming as he bit a series of marks into the supple skin of his chest. One hand firmly on Goro’s hip and the other sliding lazily up and down his side. 

God, he was needy. His nude body splayed out on Ren's futon, eager for whatever he had planned.

What he didn’t expect was for Ren to shift, pulling Goro’s hips to the edge of his makeshift bed and settling to his knees on the floor between Goro’s thighs. For a brief, horrifying moment, Ren dropped all physical contact with Goro. The brunettes mind reeling with what that meant for him in his current position, unsure of where his clothes are and agonizingly horny.

Ren's tongue pressed firmly against his hole made him jolt, but unpleasantly cold hands on his thighs held him down and prevented his sharp movement from interrupting Ren's eager licking. It was strange, but not unpleasant, and Goro found his  body arching into every lap of his tongue. At some point the raven haired man’s fingers replaced his tongue and Ren moved back up to face him, peppering soft kisses on skin as he made his way back to Goro’s lips. 

It was no surprise to him that Ren was amazing with his hands. He’d never admit it, but during their heist in Sae’s palace he had spent a not insignificant amount of time watching the man play with his dagger, twirling the blade effortlessly between hands clad in fiery red gloves. Even more time spent alone in his apartment with his hand shoved between his thighs, desperate for Ren's hands to replace his own.

Having them was everything he had hoped it to be, lithe strong hands more befitting a musician than a thief. Pushing and stretching in all the best ways, little gold stars dancing in Goro’s vision as Ren moved his hands, carefully working him open and preparing him for something more.

Goro reveled in the feeling of Ren's skin against his own. Wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling Ren down to be flush against him, whining as he pushed his hips up, eager to finally be fucked in the way he’d been craving since before he’d entered the cafe this morning.

The realization that he’d been desperate for Ren even before the aphrodisiac rattled in his brain as Ren pulled away, removing his fingers from Goro and retrieving a bottle of lube left on the floor that Goro had been too lost in the feeling of Ren's hands to notice. 

Goro’s body accepted Ren like that’s what it was made to do. While the awkward angle of his hips would make him sore eventually, for now he didn’t care. Clinging to Ren as he bottomed out, hips pressed flush against his own Goro just about sobbed. He had been waiting for this consciously since 8 this morning, and subconsciously for as long as he’d known Ren. It was everything he had hoped it to be, Ren was so warm against him and in him, the raven haired man despite not being physically larger swallowed him whole and at the moment he was living for it.

Ren’s voice, gently asking if he was okay and saying something about how he’d gone quiet lulled him out of his thoughts, Goro nodded eagerly and pulled Ren close again, gasping at how the movement shifted them and somehow pushed Ren even deeper into him. Goro was barely able to whine out a confirmation, his voice thoroughly lost to him. The feeble noise drawing a low chuckle out of Ren as he began to rock his hips gently against Goro’s, the movement was overwhelmingly good yet still somehow not enough. The last shreds of his pride forcing Goro’s mouth shut, not allowing him to start begging immediately. Sure he’s been practically drooling over the idea of Ren’s dick being anywhere near him for the past 7 or so hours, but Ren didn’t need to know that.

His unconscious whining told Ren of his desperation though, and with a saccharine smile Ren picked up his pace, savoring each honeyed moan and whine that bubbled out of Goro’s chest. His dull nails left behind faint red stripes in the skin of Ren's shoulders as Goro fell further into it all, sweet noises morphing into desperate pleas for more as Ren pulled him apart at the seams. Said raven haired man making a point of keeping his own voice down so he could fully enjoy Goro’s sounds and the sharp slap of his thighs on the other mans as it echoed through the attic.

Goro’s mind swam, maybe it was whatever that shit Ren put in his coffee, maybe it was his own desperation. But between Ren’s harsh thrusts and the heady groans that kept falling from his lips it was hard not to wail and cling to Ren. He really didn’t want to seem like some kind of slut but god he was living for Ren’s attention and everything in his body screamed for more. He so badly wanted Ren to be more aggressive, the restraint was obvious in his gentle but quick movements paired with a bruisingly tight grip on his hips.

Before he was fully conscious of the thought the words fell from Goro’s lips, his voice low and harsh. Hoarse from moaning he hadn’t realized he’d been doing.

“For the love of god if you don’t fuck me harder I’m going to push you off me and do it myself.”

The silence was palpable as Ren stopped dead, the heaving of his chest being the only remaining motion.

Shit.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize Ren shifted, looking up at him through sweat slicked bangs, his expression completely flat as he searched Goro’s eyes. The always stunning crimson eyes peering back at him through sticky strands of ashy brown hair clouded with lust and somewhere, deep inside them, something much sweeter.

After a moment of silence Ren smiled, though it was more characteristically akin to Joker’s smirk, the pointed smile given only to formidable opponents he was about to destroy with terrifying ease. The idea of Ren destroying him made Goro’s face warm in a strange sort of way that he wasn’t entirely sure could be attributed to the fact that Ren was in fact still balls deep in him and grinning like a madman.

“Are you absolutely sure that's what you want?”

Goro didn’t say anything, he just nodded and ran his fingers through Ren's hair, pulling him closer and hoping to himself that it would be enough confirmation that Ren would finally start moving again. As much as he loved the feeling of cockwarming Ren he was beyond desperate and had finally let go of his last bits of his pride.

Based on how Ren sunk his teeth into the soft skin of his shoulder, the answer is yes, that was in fact confirmation enough, adjusting his grip on Goro’s hips before sliding back. Leaving him with only the flushed head of his cock pressed inside him, before snapping his hips forward. Ripping a strangled gasp from Goro as Ren set a pace harsh enough to bruise. Goro’s gasps morphed quickly into broken wailing as he eagerly accepted Ren’s violent thrusts, the haze filling his mind dissipating only to be replaced with a visceral need for more.

So, he begged. Barely lucid and sobbing into Ren’s shoulder he screeched out another plea for more, Ren only replying by biting down harder as he railed Goro into the futon. Goro came almost embarrassingly quickly after that, biting his hand in an attempt to stifle the sharp cry of the raven haired man’s name as he painted his chest and belly with streaks of white, though Ren didn’t slow down at all. Fucking Goro into oversensitivity quickly as his screaming evolved into incoherent babbling as Ren used him mercilessly.

The time from then until when Ren emptied himself into Goro was a blur to Goro, with him being thoroughly overstimulated and beyond exhausted he barely registered that Ren was still going until he felt Ren let go of his shoulder and instead dug his teeth into the soft skin of Goro’s neck as his hips stuttered. 

–

The sheer terror of waking up to the smell of curry was not exactly something he had anticipated. His apartment rarely smelt of anything other than cleaning products, so the pleasantly savory smell of sauteed vegetables and spices was jarring to begin with. But upon shooting out of bed only to find himself in leblanc the horror was multiplied tenfold, with his clothes nor his phone anywhere to be found he couldn’t reasonably leave the futon he was sat on, on the off chance the sun was down because it was the evening and leblanc was still open enough to keep him sat on the edge of the futon, wrapped tightly in Ren’s single dusty blanket.

A few minutes of unpleasant silence later Ren made his way up the stairs, a generous plate of curry in one hand, and Goro’s uniform folded neatly in his other.

“You passed out right after you came so I made you some food… Oh and your uniform was covered in dust so I tossed it in the wash.”

Ren smiled sweetly, the act made Goro want to die. Not only did he lose, he now had Ren doting on him like an eager wife and he was enjoying it a lot.

“I suppose that’s the least you could do for me after being so aggressive with me that I literally passed out.” Goro replied with his usual sneer, though it was clear that it was half-assed. Carefully accepting both the plate of food, and his clothing, Ren loomed for a moment after handing him his things. 

“Do you-” Ren cut him off by placing a chaste kiss on Goro’s forehead, before turning on a dime, and in an uncharacteristic moment of cowardice, literally sprinting down the stairs, audibly tripping as he reached the bottom.

If he had any say in the matter Goro would never be seen in Leblanc ever again.

Alas, coherent thought and Ren's existence in his life never went hand in hand.

[ramzawrites]

Ah right sorry! I dont know how but my brain was like 'yes discord is exists in minecraft'- Yes of course I dont mind! You can do whatever you want with the request :) Good im happy to hear that! And Thank you!

Original Request: Could I request a shy and quiet reader forgetting they're on a discord call and starts to sing a song that they are listening to? and whoever is on call with them joins in? maybe with Tommy, Wilbur and some other characters you want to write for :)

Remember to eat and drink water!

Secret Singing - Reader Insert

GN

Pairings: none stated but can be read as Wilbur x Reader

Characters included: Wilbur, Tommy, Jack Manifold

Warnings: n/a

Series: a request <3

Summary: Wilbur was busy, but not busy enough to help Y/N set up their workspace at their favorite spot! Going off to fulfill his own errands only to come back to a nice and beautiful tune in the air. 

Words count: 2125

Authors Note: Lmao you are valid, I mean after all skype is canon in the dsmp 💔 Skype my abhorred 💔

Also adhd went brrr again, I tried looking over it a ton but there might still be a few mistakes!

“Oh, wow! Need any help with that, Y/N? That’s a lot of wool you got there!” Wilbur was running through L’Manberg to deal with some errands but stopped in his tracks, having to do a double take as he just saw a mountain of blue wool on legs walk towards his direction. Only then did he notice that it was Y/N who was holding on to a basket with the wool in their arms.

With a concentrated expression Y/N turned around a bit so they could look at him. Pieces of loose wool was laying in their hair or was stuck on their flushed face “Oh! Didn’t see you there! And it’s alright! I’m just getting it over to my bench!”

With their bench they meant the wooden bench they set up themself next to a small pond. They loved working close by it hence the bench to make it a bit more comfortable. It was also still a minute or two off and with the way Y/N was already struggling with the basket, Wilbur couldn’t just stand and watch. How could he hope to be a proper president when he didn’t help people who clearly needed it?

He shook his head with a fond smile on his face, stepping closer to grab the basket from them “Nope, let me help you. Not taking no for an answer.”

Y/N let out a few weak protests but ended up just pushing it into his arms, not wanting to accidentally spill the freshly treated wool unto the ground.

“Hey, um, be- bend down a little, Wil.” their voice weak and wavering like usual. Their shyness getting ahold of them again.

Not even thinking about why they asked this of him, he obliged. They then scoped up the top of the soft mountain so Wilbur had actually a chance to look across. He might be tall but that didn’t help when you held something big in your own arms.

With a soft satisfied smile they begun moving again and for a second Wilbur just stared as he readjusted his grip on the surprisingly heavy basket that Y/N probably made themself. Following after them and making sure that no stray pieces of wool would fall off.

“So, what’s all the blue wool for?” he asked.

For some reason this seemed to amuse Y/N “Well, a lot of our clothes use blue wool. The flag as well! I need some blue thread to either stitch some more flags down on clothing or when repairing them. Same for the flags flying about. General stitching. Besides can’t hurt to have some extra, might even sell some!”

In hindsight this made sense. When this whole L’Manberg situation started out Y/N offered to help stitch together their torn clothes. Over time they got really good at it and nowadays they have kind of turned into the resident seamstress.

Wilbur once apologized for pushing them into this profession only for them to vehemently shake their head “No! It’s fine! I- I enjoy it! It, uh, it also gives me something else to do than worry about our existence.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was something that he lacked. Everything he did was dedicated to this new nation after all and he would lie, and he did, if this didn’t take a bit of a toll on him sometimes.

Once they arrived at the bench, Wilbur softly placed down the wool next to the seating area as Y/N carefully returned the extra wool back on top. They then sat down on the bench while taking out their tools out of their inventory to turn the wool into yarn or thread.

It wasn’t unusual finding them working here, especially when the weather was playing nice. Often enough sitting together with other people in sometimes comfortable silence or happy chatter. Either making thread, stitching or whatever work they had to do and could do outside.

“Thank you, Wilbur! I’m sure you are busy so I won’t keep you longer but you are welcome to join me if you are done with work before me.”

Wilbur picked some of the stray wool off his uniform and sighed, not particularly looking forward to the work “Yeah. I’ll come around if I can. I’m going to meet up with Tommy in a bit so he might join as well, not sure though.”

Y/N nervously chuckled “Yeah, don’t worry. I know.”

They then begun to set up their tools to start working. Not even looking after Wilbur who begun walking off again in a snail’s pace. He really wasn’t looking forward to his work at the moment but alas it was very important.

It took a bit, but he soon arrived at the building he and Tommy set up as something of a headquarter. It was basically just a room covered in maps, scrapped ideas, plans and a few weapon and armor pieces.

Tommy was already waiting inside for him. He looked a bit annoyed with his arms in front of his chest. Before he could complain to him though Wilbur already threw his arm around Tommy and led him to his latest sketched out plan for L’Manburg. Trying to distract him with work.

They were mostly discussing how to ensure the safety of the new nation and how to create a functioning system inside that would ensure that everything inside would move along smoothly.

Hours passed as they schemed and begun setting a few safety measures up or helped the residents of L’Manberg where they could. Jack Manifold later joined them as well. Helping and even offering ideas of his own to incorporate.

“I think that is all we can do for today. I’m getting seriously tired.” Jack sighed, cleaning the dust off his hands on his own clothes.

“You’re going home?” Tommy asked.

Jack crossed his arms, his eyes wandered off to the side behind his mismatched glasses as he thought for a second “Mh, I was hoping we could hang a bit, you know, outside of work. Haven’t done that in a while.”

“Oh! I promised to maybe spend some time with Y/N if they are still at their pond!” Wilbur suddenly exclaimed, remembering the exchange from a few hours ago.

A happy smile appeared on Jack’s face “Let’s go together then! I haven’t seen them in a while, and it’s been even longer that I hung out with them while they worked. It’s always very calming for some reason.” The last part he muttered but Wilbur caught it.

He wasn’t the only one who thought like this. Most of the people in L’Manberg were drawn to them especially in this chaotic time. It was nice having someone like that around.

“Guess I’ll come with you.” Tommy suddenly exclaimed, pulling Wilbur back out of his thoughts.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, why not. I need to ask them to look at my coat anyhow.”

With that the group begun moving, it was slowly getting darker, but it was still warm outside, so if they were lucky, Y/N was still out.

They were chatting about what they were planning to do next or in Jack’s and Tommy’s case what they have been up to only for them to get interrupted by a tune that the wind carried over to them.

A bit surprised Wilbur looked at the others, hoping to see if they too hear it and true enough, they seemed to be just as surprised as them. Someone was singing but he has never heard a voice like this.

Frankly, it was beautiful.

The tune was sounding sad and yet the lyrics that accompanied it were hopeful. Wishing for peace in a time of turmoil. Promises of a better time filled with a deep love via the voice.

It was a song that none of them ever have ever heard. An original song perhaps?

But what really surprised them was from what direction the music came from.

It came from the pond. From Y/N’s bench.

Almost as if they were worried to scare away a wild animal, they begun to sneak towards said pond. Staying off the path and taking a wild berth. Hiding behind the trees, trying to avoid that if their hunch were right, that Y/N wouldn’t see them approaching.

Wilbur pressed his index finger against his pursed lips as they got closer, motioning for the others to keep quiet. To which Tommy just rolled his eyes, seeing how this was obvious.

Jack slowly moved around the tree and there he saw it.

Y/N was sitting on the bench, their legs crossed with a piece of fabric in their hands that they seemed to stich another L’Manburg flag into. Slowly moving their head from one side to the next to the rhythm of the song.

Wilbur followed suit, using his superior height to peak his head out above Jack while Tommy crouched down to do the same.

They were still intently staring at their handiwork, pushing the nail and thread into the cloth only to pull it out again. Their mouth turned into a happy little smile as they sang this hopefully hymn.

“Wow, I didn’t think they could sing like that.” Jack whispered, looking up to Wilbur.

He nodded, his eyes continuing to rest on Y/N’s happy expression “Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

“I guess it’s fine.” Tommy just whispered back. Of course, he still had to put on his cool dude persona.

Wilbur flicked Tommy’s head “Just say for once what you really think!” He still made sure to keep his voice down, not having heard enough of the song and Y/N’s voice yet.

Tommy scowled and jumped back so he was standing at his full height again “What do you mean? I say what I think! The hell are you talking about!” He tried to keep his voice down but at the end he got louder which made Wilbur panic and clasp his hand around Tommy’s mouth.

Though Tommy saw this coming and dodged out of the way by ducking, resulting in Wilbur to fall over. Crashing into Tommy and pushing him onto the ground, both of them letting out a startled yell.

The singing immediately stopped.

“Ah! Look what you have done!” Jack whined, helping the two reluctantly up.

“Well, if Tommy would have shut his mouth!”

“You attacked me!”

“I did not! I was trying to shut you up!”

“Guys?” a soft and unsure voice broke through their argument.

All three men slowly turned around to see Y/N clutching the piece of cloth they had been working on close to their chest. Avoiding any eye contact. Their face covered in a deep blush. Chewing on their lower lip.

“Are you okay? I- I heard a thud and- I just- I wanted to make sure-“ they stammered.

Tommy seemed to be confused at that “What? No. You were singing though, right Y/N?” Getting straight to the point apparently.

“Tommy!” Both Jack and Wilbur yelled out in outrage.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and they moved the cloth up to their face. Effectively hiding behind it “No. I- uh. I’m sorry?”

“What are you sorry for? Your voice is amazing! Why haven’t you told us you can sing?” Wilbur stepped closer. His eyes wide as well but in amazement.

Though Y/N seemed to cower down even more the closer he got “Because- Because I can’t. Please just forget about it.”

Wilbur wanted to know more, hear more of their singing but they seemed panicked. Hiding away and trying to clearly get out of the situation and he had to take a step back. Guilt welling up in him.

“I’m sorry. We just heard your song, and it was beautiful. I have never heard this song. I guess we got enamored by it especially since your singing was really amazing.”

Jack put his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder and pushed him back a few steps “Come on let’s drop it. They are clearly uncomfortable. I’m sorry Y/N.” He then begun pulling Wilbur along, grabbing Tommy in the process as well who just yanked his arm away from him stating he could walk good enough on his own.

“Wilbur?”

He immediately turned around again to see the nervous Y/N with a determined expression on their face. The cloth now back down.

“The song! I mean, uh, my parent taught me that song when I was a child. Apparently, they wrote it.”

“It’s a really beautiful one. Your parent must be very talented. If you feel ever more comfortable enough I would love to hear the full song.”

Y/N took a deep breath in “I know how to play it on guitar and keyboard? I could, uh, you know. Teach it to you?”

Wilbur’s smile returned to his face “Sounds like a plan.”

[tennessoui]

So I love your keeping up with the Skywalker/Kenobis au😍!!! It's adorable and it makes me so happy to read aaaand I wanted to ask what you think Satine's reaction is to Obi Wan basically getting himself a husband two kids and a dog like 2 months after she's left him? Like if they randomly ran into each other and Obi Wan is with his whole family and is carrying Leia, while holding Luke's hand and Luke is holding the dogs leash, while Anakin is I dunno monologing about something as he usually does

hi!!!! thank you so much for the prompt i love it <3 I thought a really long time about this prompt because I kind of knew what I wanted to do but I also didn't want to throw satine's character under the bus to accomplish it because i think from what Obi-Wan's told us about his marriage she's completely justified to want a divorce, so she's not necessarily a jealous ex in this snippet. But she's sort of angry, which i feel is fair!! i also (for reasons we will hopefully see tomorrow) changed your 'two months' to '3 years', so this happens 2 years after the Skywalkers move in, which is one yearish after the divorce! mostly because Something Else happens about 2 years after the Skywalkers move in and I have an ask cooling in my inbox asking about That that i want to answer tomorrow and these two felt like they fit together

(big sigh)(2.5k)(this is Obi-Wan's POV so its a bit pretentious and also a bit sad)

It’s a very strange thing, what the body remembers but the mind forgets.

“Obi-Wan?” A tentative voice asks from his left, and he knows that voice intimately. That voice had been at one time the most beautiful sound in the entire world. That voice had been what he heard before going to sleep, what he waited on tenterhooks to hear upon waking. He’d heard that voice cry, scream, laugh, gasp, moan--he knows that voice, and for a second his body responds the way it always has to that voice.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns to look at Satine for the first time in almost three years.

“Satine,” he says and clears his throat and tries again. “Hello there.”

She smiles delicately, as if she’s unsure of her welcome. Obi-Wan’s never seen Satine shy, but he supposes he’s never seen how she acts around her ex-husband.

He surreptitiously glances to where Anakin and the twins are standing in line at an ice cream truck. It had been a nice day, so they had bundled the kids and the dog into Anakin’s car and gone to the city park with loose ideas about kite flying. Perhaps a picnic.

Perhaps twenty yards from the parking lot, Leia had spotted an ice cream truck from her perch on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and the twins had successfully convinced Anakin to make a quick pit stop on their way up the park’s central hill. It had been a very easy sell. The sweet tooth is most definitely inherited, and nothing Obi-Wan really shares, so he had taken Chewie and gone to sit on a near park bench, graciously pretending not to hear Anakin tell his children to let the old man rest.

That had only been five minutes ago.

“Would you like to sit?” Obi-Wan asks politely, gesturing to the part of the bench he’s not taking up.

“If you have the time,” Satine responds just as politely. Obi-Wan wonders if this sort of false veneer of courteousness is putting her teeth on edge as much as his.

Do you remember how you left? Would you like me to recall the amount of things thrown by you, or would you like to do the honors? He imagines saying.

Only if you would be so gracious as to recite the long list of things you called me, he can imagine Satine responding.

That sort of conversation would be better than this. More honest. It’s a strange hurt, to realize you’re lying to the person you used to think you’d always be truthful to.

“Oh,” Satine says when Chewie immediately starts sniffing at the hem of her dress. “Is this...your dog?”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to wince. He had. Well. He had been quite against getting a dog when they’d been married. Or a cat. Or anything, really. He had vehemently protested the idea of a pet.

Of another living thing in their house.

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. His name is Chewie.”

Satine pets him with just the right amount of pressure to have Chewie tilting his head eagerly for more. “Chewie?” she asks incredulously. “I always figured we would have to name any dog or--child after some sort of literary figure.”

Obi-Wan pretends he doesn’t notice her hesitation. He has to pretend he doesn’t notice her hesitation. “I originally wanted to name him Dante,” he admits instead. “Leia compromised down to Danny, but I just couldn’t do that to the poor dead man.”

“Oh,” Satine says and then she’s quiet. Obi-Wan can just imagine the sort of things running through her head. He would deserve all the mean-spirited barbs she could throw at him now. He reminds himself that he understands that.

I hadn’t thought you knew how to do that, he imagines her saying. Compromising, I mean.

Or, does the dog hair everywhere drive you as crazy as you used to say it would?

Or, perhaps worst of all, how much has your library of dead mean kept you comfort these last three years?

Instead she gently strokes the dog’s head and refuses to make eye contact with Obi-Wan.

“You look well,” he says, breaking the silence first. He thinks she’s probably put in enough work in speaking first for a lifetime.

“Thank you,” Satine responds, tucking a piece of her ash blonde hair behind her ear. Obi-Wan catches a glint of a ring on her finger from the action. He doesn’t know if it was purposeful or not, doesn’t blame her either way. It’s been three years. Their lives are their own now. There’s always going to be those years where they...converged, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure he regrets them. He might never regret them, no matter what he thought shortly after the papers were mailed in.

After all, he’d never have met the Skywalkers if it wasn’t for the divorce.

“You as well,” Satine says, crossing her ankles. It’s her version of a fidget, Obi-Wan thinks fondly, and then wonders if he’ll ever forget that sort of information.

He smiles. “Yes, I’m...well.” He coughs and glances over to the ice cream truck. Leia waves at him from where she’s curled into Anakin’s chest, very near the front of the line. Anakin and Luke are looking at Obi-Wan with almost the same expression of pinched worry. Anakin most probably because he knows who Satine is. Luke because the boy has gotten quite possessive of Obi-Wan’s attention in the last few months.

Obi-Wan smiles slightly to let them both know that he’s fine. “I’m very well,” he tells Satine, turning back to her.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she says, and it sounds like the most honest thing she’s said this entire time.

“Thank you,” he responds, and that’s the most honest thing he’s said today too. He knows she won’t understand exactly what he means, but it feels nice to say it anyway. Thank you for the years we were happy. Thank you for leaving before we could really start hating each other. Thank you for the divorce. Thank you for the Skywalkers.

There’s very loud footsteps on the pavement and then suddenly a blond blur is clinging to Obi-Wan’s knee.

“Obi,” Luke says very reproachfully.

Obi-Wan automatically fixes the boy’s fringe. “Yes, little one?” he asks, very, very aware of the way Satine’s posture has shifted from almost relaxed to preparing for battle.

“Daddy wants to know if you want anything. He says they have those pop--pop--cycles that you like.”

Obi-Wan switches his attention away from Luke so that he can raise a very scathing eyebrow at Anakin, who shrugs as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He had most certainly told Anakin that he was fine and that he didn’t want to spoil his lunch. Sending Luke over had not been a friendly check-in. It had been an invasion.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin’s son. “I don’t want to spoil my lunch.”

These words seem just as foreign to Luke as they did to his father, because he squints up at Obi-Wan before shrugging and clambering up into Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Who is she, Obi?” he asks, not quietly at all.

Obi-Wan sighs. And then resists the urge to sigh harder when he catches sight of Satine’s pinched face.

A thousand conversations rush back to him.

“My career has to come first, Satine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“A child? At my age?”

“It’s Obi-Wan, not Obi.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, dear. Our lives would change. Fundamentally. We’d have to compromise, we’d have to figure out a way to be there for them whenever they needed it. I know people manage. But would we?”

“Don’t--”

“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t want children.”

“Don’t call me Obi.”

He understands perfectly why Satine looks as if someone has just fed her half a lemon. He does.

She’s run into her ex-husband at the park and settled in to have a civil conversation with the man, only to see that he owns a dog (which he had been against when they were together), has a child (Luke isn’t his, of course, but he can understand the confusion), and lets that child call him one of his most hated nicknames.

“Obi?” she asks, which is probably starting out small, something he is very grateful for.

“Who are you?” Luke asks more forcefully, gripping onto Obi-Wan’s shirt with his little hands. Of all the times for the boy to decide to speak up to strangers--

“I’m Satine,” Satine answers graciously. And then, “Who are you?”

“Luke,” the boy says, far less graciously. “Obi lives with us.”

“Us?” Satine asks, mostly to Obi-Wan. “You mentioned a...Leia earlier?”

“My sister,” Luke interrupts before Obi-Wan can, perhaps, explain the situation. “We’re twins.”

“Twins!” Satine gasps in a way that’s most definitely pointed and directed at Obi-Wan. “Obi, I hadn’t known you had twins!”

“I…” Obi-Wan starts to say that he doesn’t, but the twins have started shooting him very hurt looks every time he corrects strangers on the fact that the twins aren’t actually his. He’s mostly stopped correcting people now because Luke and Leia’s betrayed expressions are really, quite frankly, works of art.

“Obi-Wan!” a voice interrupts him to his right. It’s a familiar voice, one that he’s heard as he falls asleep, one he’s heard first thing in the morning, one he’s heard cry and yell and gasp and laugh, one he thinks to himself might just be one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Without his permission or even his consent, butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns from Satine’s rigid expression to Anakin’s slightly manic grin.

“Anakin,” he says, standing immediately with Luke cradled in his arms.

“We got you the red popsicle because Luke never came back,” Anakin says, thrusting the icy treat forward as Leia tries to clamber on the bench to hand Luke his own chocolate-covered cone.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, all thoughts about his appetite for lunch pushed out of his mind by the size of Anakin’s smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”

Anakin ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck, his face turning red like Obi-Wan’s popsicle. Obi-Wan thinks he’s never been this hopelessly endeared in his entire life.

“I should be going,” Satine says suddenly, standing up. Obi-Wan is a bit ashamed to realize he has forgotten her in the wake of the arrival of the Skywalkers.

But he knows he should not leave like this. They deserve more than this stilted sort of interrupted conversation.

Gently, he sets Luke on the ground despite the boy’s protests and chases after his ex-wife.

“Satine, wait,” he pants as he catches up with her.

“What, Obi-Wan?” she asks, voice strained and eyes a bit wet. “What else do you want me to see? What else is there left? I get it, alright. I get it. It was never you--it wasn’t--it wasn’t that you didn’t want pets or kids or--or all of it. You just didn’t want them with me. It was me. All along.”

She turns away, wiping frantically at her eyes. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s ever felt worse.

“No,” he insists, reaching out to touch her forearm, painfully aware of how public they are right now. “No, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not...it was never you. It’s just…”

He pauses and tries to find the words to describe the past three years of his life. That first year of despair and hopelessness and isolation. And then the way Anakin and his children had crept into his life like a summer sunrise in the dead of winter, unexpectedly and then slowly and then all at once.

Obi-Wan shrugs helplessly, at a loss for words. There’s no way to describe something like that to someone who hasn’t experienced it. “It’s just…them.”

Satine takes a few moments to breathe before she turns to face him. She’s smiling and it looks mostly like a grimace, but he’ll accept it as more than he deserves.

“Oh Obi-Wan,” she says, laying a hand over the hand he has on his arm. “You always had so many rules.”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to bristle, reminding himself that Satine has the right to say anything she wants to him today and the amount of hurts they’ve dealt each other still probably wouldn’t be even.

It takes him completely by surprise then when she hugs him. He hugs her back automatically, blinking stupidly further into the park.

“I’m glad you’ve found your exceptions,” she whispers to him as she pulls back with a sad smile.

“Satine,” he says, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with that and falls silent. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Glad to know I can still make you speechless,” she tells him wryly.

“Always,” he promises her, and she laughs. Obi-Wan is suddenly struck with a sort of gut-wrenching realization that she used to be his best friend as well as his wife. He had lost both in one fell swoop.

“I think I just put you in a world of trouble,” she smirks, tilting her head back down the path. “Your partner doesn’t look very happy.”

“He’s not my--” Obi-Wan starts to say and then decides fuck it. He shrugs. “It was nice to see you again, Satine. I hope. I. I really am glad that you’re doing well.”

Satine smiles and squeezes his hand once before letting go. “You too, Obi-Wan. You too.”

When he gets back to his family, Anakin is staring intensely down at his shoes, while Luke and Leia are glaring just as intensely up at Obi-Wan.

“Who was that?” Leia demands immediately.

“Satine,” Luke relays to her, as if the word means one hundred terrible and tragic things.

“An old friend,” Obi-Wan corrects. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I just...I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Did you?” Anakin asks, strangely intent as he looks down at Obi-Wan’s face.

“I did,” Obi-Wan tells him. It sounds like a promise. Yes, seeing Satine had been a peculiar twist of fate, but it had felt like a goodbye. To her. To the last vestiges of their marriage. To the man he had been when he had been in love with her.

The realization feels like it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Instead of ruminating on it though, he holds his hand out to Luke’s sticky fingers. “Shall we?” he asks, as Anakin falls into place on his other side, Leia held firmly in his arms. “It’s a fairly large hill, are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yes!” Luke insists enthusiastically, all thoughts of the blonde woman his Obi had been talking to immediately forgotten.

“Perhaps by the time we get to the top, we’ll be prepared for lunch,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin wryly. The other man laughs, but his eyebrows stay pinched. Obi-Wan has the strangest desire to kiss them smooth, to lean over and kiss Anakin’s face until he’s blushing and laughing and light as he knows he can be.

But it’s very obviously not the time and place. Such a step forward needs both a proper time and place. After all, you may have multiple loves of your lives, but you only ever kiss each of them for the first time once. And Obi-Wan is pretty sure he’s only got the two; he’s not looking to mess this one up.

[kingreywrites]

There Beside You

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2912

Eugene Appreciation Week Day Three: Home

Summary: Eugene gets sick and needs to rest. His friends and family check up on him, because what's a home if not people taking care of you when you need it?

Note: this is... an extremely self-indulgent sickfic asfhdghj hope you enjoy!!

Read on ao3

At first, Eugene had blamed his headache on the amount of paperwork he had to go through that day. Being Captain was something he loved, but it did involve filling a lot more forms than he had expected, and sometimes he grew tired of looking at papers all day. 

Except that his headache came as soon as he woke up. And with that, the constant shivering, despite having closed the window in his office. Ah, and he was also bone-tired, for some reason. In all honesty, he had an inkling that whatever that was, it was not paperwork induced, but Eugene was trying to power through, hoping that this was simply an off day. 

He did not remember laying his head on his desk, or closing his eyes. 

"-don't know Pete, this isn't like him," Eugene heard, somewhat distantly. He felt cold all over. His cheek was smushed on what felt like paper, and he hoped that he hadn't wrinkled whatever it was too much. Or worse, drooled on it. God, was he drooling? No, no, his mouth was shut, and felt drier than a desert too. Why was he- 

"Eugene?" Stan whispered, way closer than before. Eugene felt a hand on his shoulder and startled. 

In his mind, he was going to straighten up quickly, but in reality, he blinked sluggishly, tried to raise his head, realised that he felt way too nauseous for that and buried it in his hands. Yay. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I was just... uh..." 

"Sleeping on the job?" Pete offered helpfully. "Which is totally okay!" he hastily added. "It can stay between us!" Eugene groaned from behind his hands.

There was no way the entire castle wouldn't be aware of his untimely nap now. He gave it twenty minutes, tops.

"You okay Eugene?" Stan asked. "You really look, uh… tired."

"Didn't sleep well," he muttered. That was partly a lie, because he did sleep all night without a hitch, he simply woke up without feeling rested at all. Sighing, he finally raised his head fully, a dull ache at the base of his neck making itself known. The room was way brighter than he remembered it being.

"You sure? Because-"

"Yes Stan, thank you, I just-"

Eugene tried to get up while he was talking, so he could avoid falling back asleep on his desk. However, he understood very quickly that this was a bad idea - it was as if his entire body became too warm at once, and then he was looking at the ground, Stan's arms around him and keeping him from actually falling on his face.

Huh.

Pete's shrill voice was echoing loudly in his ears, as was Stan's panicked exclamation that he had a fever, and just like that, Eugene knew the next few hours (days?) were going to be a pain.

------

Eugene didn't have to open his eyes again to feel the curious and intense gaze that laid on him. 

"Varian," he muttered, voice not as strong as he had hoped, "I told you I'm fine." 

He opened one eye just in time to see his friend pout from behind his goggles, quickly hiding the contraptions he was apparently trying to put on Eugene when he saw the older man looking at him.

"What's that?" Eugene asked suspiciously. 

"Wha- Nothing!" Varian waved his hands in the air, immediately betrayed by the sound of something crashing on the ground behind him. He grinned awkwardly. "Nothing at all, yep." 

"Liar!" Kiera exclaimed from the other side of the room, dashing to pick the thing up before Varian could even protest. 

Eugene groaned as they started to chase each other, slowly stretching his legs and feeling how much he still wanted to go back to the sorta sleep thing he was doing before that. After the initial freakout of what felt like everyone in the castle, Eugene had managed to convince them that he just needed some rest, which was what he was doing. Or trying to do. He had hoped that lying down on the couch of his own bedroom (because he didn't feel like going to bed so early) would be enough to feel better, but that was without counting the guests that had invited themselves today. He didn't even know when the girls arrived.

A louder noise erupted, and he opened his eyes again to see Catalina dangling Varian and Kiera above the ground. In wolf form, of course. Eugene's head hurt too much for him to try to intervene and, at that point, he would give her an alibi if she needed one, as long as he got some quiet. 

"How's my man feeling!" Lance exclaimed loudly as he opened the doors with a bang. Eugene cringed, trying to hide further under his duvet. 

"Inside voice, Dad," Kiera mockingly reminded him, as if she hadn't been fighting with Varian a second before. 

"Ah yes sorry, what-" Lance paused, probably seeing for the first time the position the kids were in. A dull thud also told Eugene Catalina probably released the others at this exact moment. "You know what, I'm not even going to ask. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, Eugene!" 

Eugene wanted to be forgotten right now. He felt miserable, probably looked miserable too, and absolutely hated the fact that he was. Lance, who knew him better than most people, also knew exactly the stuff that bothered him, and commented that his hair was a mess, gathering a hateful glare for this. 

"There he is," he announced smugly. 

"Fuck you," Eugene muttered in answer. 

"Love you too, G-bug." 

Lance was very lucky Eugene didn't feel like doing anything, because if he had been only a fraction better, he would have strangled him. He huffed when he felt his friend put his hand on his forehead, a shiver running through him. 

"Oh yeah Stan was not kidding about that fever." 

Given that Eugene felt like death warmed over, he could only guess what the others were feeling when they touched him. 

"Ahem," Varian coughed from where he was still sitting. The kid got up, snatching his invention back from Kiera's hands. "You know, measuring someone's temperature with only skin contact isn't a very reliable method to get an accurate reading. Which is why I made- This!" he exclaimed, brandishing the contraption high in the air. 

"Isn't it the stuff you use to make sure your boilers aren't about to explode?" Kiera asked drily. 

"I repurposed it for human use! I just... never tried it, but it's very easy, you place it under your tongue and-" 

"I'm not putting that in my mouth kid," Eugene interrupted. 

"It's perfectly safe!" 

"I trust you, I'm still not putting it in my mouth." 

Varian grimaced, obviously searching for a convincing argument. "What if I try it so you can see it's safe?" 

"I'm- I'm really not putting something you put in your mouth in mine." Catalina made a fake gagging sound to support his point, which was appreciated, and finally, Varian accepted that the debut of his invention wasn't for today. 

Which was the moment Lance chose to help Eugene straighten up so he could drink. Eugene really didn't want to but his best friend insisted and so here he was, sitting with his head swimming, slowly sipping from a glass of water as Lance chattered in his ear. The kids were arguing about something else now, though Eugene couldn't have told you what, and even if he had wished for quiet, he had to admit this was nice too. He really didn't feel well, but it was better with people at his side. 

"What are you guys even doing here?" he mumbled after a while. He had slipped a little on the couch and was now resting on Lance, who had his arm around his shoulder. "Varian was working here today but... You and the girls?" 

"Oh you know, I was coming to visit my favourite people and it so happened to be the day when- okay, okay," Lance corrected when Eugene raised his eyebrows at him, knowing his lying voice far too well. "Rapunzel asked us if we could keep an eye on you while she's working." 

"I don't need a babysitter." 

"I'd take you more seriously if you weren't also cuddling me." 

"Shut up." 

Lance laughed and Eugene smiled, not really that upset. He had known Rapunzel was worried, and he had had a lot of trouble convincing her she didn't need to put the entire kingdom on pause so she could stay with him. Being sick sucked, but he wasn't dying, he simply needed some rest. But… He had to admit that having some company was nice.

The sound of bickering, Lance's voice telling him stories, all of that was familiar and comfortable in a way that made it easier for Eugene to doze off against Lance. He was somewhat aware of shivering still, and of the brush of fingers against his skin. He could hear murmurs around him, too. 

He mumbled something when he felt himself move, but just as quickly, he was on his bed. It didn't take much more for him to completely fall asleep.

------

He thought he woke up once or twice to the sight of Pascal looking at him, but that could have also been a dream. Eugene wasn't sure. What he knew is that he kept oscillating between being way way too cold and way way too hot, which made for a frankly terrible sleep. Right now, he was on the hot side of things, and despite trying to kick his covers off, he could feel them still sticking to him. 

Something cold and wet touched his forehead, and Eugene opened his eyes with a start, surprising... 

"Your Majesty?" 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Arianna smiled, a wet cloth in her hand. From her shoulder, Eugene could see that Pascal was peering down at him too, a worried frown on his face. 

Eugene blinked several times. 

"What are you- I mean- What?" That made Arianna pause and he worried for a second that he was being rude, but she laughed instead, looking amused. "Sorry I just- did Rapunzel ask you to do this? Because you really don't have to." 

"As a matter of fact, no she didn't. Lance did." 

"Lance did," Eugene echoed, voice strangled. Lance asked his future mother-in-law to babysit him while he was sick. To be fair, Lance and Arianna had struck an... interesting friendship over the years, but Eugene was still easily flustered around her, and really wished she didn't have to see him like... this. 

"But it's really no trouble," Arianna added, after a beat. "I'm keeping you company, while Pascal here is keeping me company. We... Everyone is worried about you, Eugene." 

Pascal squeaked in affirmation, while Eugene just let out the faintest oh. He still kind of wanted to bury himself under his pillows. He really didn't want Arianna to see him in this state, even though it was too late for that. 

"Your fever has climbed a lot this afternoon," Arianna explained, settling back on the chair she had installed next to his bed, "but it hasn't worsened in the last half-hour, so, hopefully that's a good sign." 

Eugene hummed quietly, unsure of how to proceed. Pascal had abandoned his worry for his "You're being ridiculous" look, which Eugene felt was a bit unfair since he was sick and completely unprepared for this situation. Between his own awkwardness, Arianna's memory issues, the attack on Corona and its repercussions, they never really had a chance to become... friends? Maybe? 

Though, of all the occasions to do so, being sick and feeling too weak to even sit up wasn't the one he would have picked. 

"If you want..." Arianna trailed off, before picking up a book that he hadn't noticed was next to her. "I was reading this, with Pascal. Maybe I could..." 

"Oh, uh," Eugene hesitated. He noticed for the first time that she seemed just as awkward as he was, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he did - that they never truly had the time to really get to know each other beyond their shared love for Rapunzel. "I- Yes, I'd like that, if that's okay," he finally answered. 

Arianna smiled, and slowly, she started reading. She didn't sound very used to telling stories aloud, but she was trying, and Eugene appreciated the gesture more than she could imagine. 

His only regret was falling asleep before he could hear the ending.

------

Eugene woke up to the soft touch of a hand on his forehead, mattress dipping a little as a new weight settled next to him. He didn't even have to open his eyes to know who it was, didn't even have to think about it for a tired smile to make its way on his face. 

"Hey you," Rapunzel murmured when he slowly blinked his eyes open. Her hand was still on him, gently stroking his hair, and she was lying on the bed on his right. "How are you feeling?" 

"Better now," he whispered, voice hoarse. "Can't feel too bad when you're here with me." 

That made her chuckle, and he grinned. He wasn't even lying - he felt a little better than he did earlier, and had stopped shivering all the time. Right now, he was warm and comfortable, if a bit exhausted still. 

"You'd flirt with me even if you were at death's door," Rapunzel said, more gentle than she had intended, happy wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. 

"Hmm, I think experience has proved that I would come back from the dead to flirt with you." 

Her eyes widened, before she burst out laughing, quickly lowering her own voice despite the giggles, mindful of his headache. He seldom made jokes about his own death to Rapunzel, the subject being a little touchy and all that, but when he did, they always landed. 

"Let's not test that theory further," she snorted. 

"Agreed," he sighed, before they lapsed into a comfortable silence again. 

Despite the dimming light, he could see the love shining in her eyes, wild hair sticking up around her face after a long day of fiddling with it. He had seen her do it so often that he could imagine it clearly, the way she would run her fingers through her hair, eyes narrowed in concentration - or how she would simply shake her head to get stray strands out of her vision. It was the cutest thing to witness, in Eugene's absolutely unbiased opinion. 

Rapunzel booped his nose, breaking him out of his reverie. 

"I'm gonna ask you to stop looking so cute when I can't kiss you," she joked. 

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing," Eugene smiled. "I've always hated being sick, but this is, by far, the worst thing about it." 

And it wasn't... It wasn't that much of an exaggeration. Before meeting Rapunzel, he had hated being sick because that nearly always meant he spent the day alone and miserable, with, if he was lucky, someone coming to check on him once or twice. When he lived on the streets as a thief, sicknesses were also often synonymous with death - if not because of the illness in itself, but because someone took advantage of it to take revenge on you. Thankfully, Eugene hadn't fallen sick often, but he had always dreaded the possibility of it. 

But now... He thought about the day he spent, being constantly checked on by the people he loved. He thought about the warm hands on his forehead, the voices trying to stay quiet for his sake, the worry and the love all directed at him. He thought about having a family he could count on, a home in all meanings of the word, and... And now, the worst thing about being sick, was the danger of passing it to someone he loved, even though he knew that if it happened, he would be there for them the same way they had been for him. 

No matter how many years had passed, it still surprised him, sometimes, to realise how much his life had changed for the better. 

"Come here," Rapunzel muttered, before sneaking her arms closer to him and bringing him into a tight hug. "Not a kiss," she whispered next to his ear, "but still good." 

He chuckled, melting into her embrace, finding comfort in the way he could feel her breathe against him. 

"I'm pretty sure I could still get you sick that way," he mumbled, resting his head on the cool skin of her shoulder, "but yeah, this is good. I missed you today." 

"I missed you too. You're not allowed to be sick when I have work." 

"I'll reschedule next time," he laughed. 

Slowly, he could feel his fatigue come back, his eyelids heavier with every blink. He didn't want to sleep right now - not when he was finally feeling a little better, and Rapunzel was here - but his hold on her kept getting slacker, and he knew he wouldn't stay awake for much longer. 

"I love you," Rapunzel whispered, kissing his hair gently. 

"Love you too, Sunshine," he answered. Or tried to. He wasn't too sure that anything he said was understandable, but she was still holding him close, and he knew she got it. At worst, he could say it again tomorrow, and every day of his life too.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Wash Day

Yall I just really want Trisskel to be a solid couple from like, day one and be happy and in love and hhhnnngggg. I have feelings. (specifically Netflix Triss and Game Eskel) 

Summary: Modern AU Eskel helps Triss with wash day when she cant use her arms. 

Warnings: Mentions of burn injuries and burns in healing process, nothing gorey, just the mention of scabs, temporary dependency, dealing with the shitty mental part of recovering from major injuries/surgeries - not fucking bathing, eskel is not flexible and tries so hard to do things right. bless, lol swearing as is usual

I’d like to put a little disclaimer that I did a bunch of natural hair care research for this but I have no experience save from helping my friend diffuse her hair before class. 

________________

Triss groaned and tossed her phone to the other end of the couch she was perched on, wiping her one good hand over her face. Her burns over her chest still weren’t allowing her much range of motion with her right arm and her hair was starting to drive her absolutely insane. Yennefer was going to come over and help with wash day, but Ciri got in a fight at school, leaving Triss to sit with an itchy, ratted, and, frankly, horrendous head of hair. 

She leaned her head back against the arm of the couch and sighed, not even able to adjust the bun Eskel had helped her with that morning. 

Speaking of…

She scooted over the couch to pick up her phone, tapping the little call icon under his nickname, “Hey, Yen can’t come over tonight. No need to pick up the wine,” she sighed. 

“Are you sure? Nothing wrong with a little treat, babe.” 

“I’m sure. It was more for her efforts than my treat anyway.”

“If you say so… How are you feeling?”

“Less shit than this morning. I’m just tired,” she didn’t add the feeling of hopelessness that went along with not even being able to bathe on her own. He worried enough for the both of them and then some. 

“I’m picking up the good wine. I’ve got one more client then I’m done. Maybe take a nap?”

“Skel…”

“I will spoil you if I want to. Oh! Look! There’s my 3:30! Bye Bug! Love you!” he hung up on her before she could protest.

She rolled her eyes as she lowered the phone into her lap, smiling a little despite her annoyance. 

Gingerly, she made her way to their bedroom and laid down, running the risk of taking out the bun to lay comfortably. She turned on a podcast she told Jask she’d listen to and hoped to zone out at the least, if not actually sleep. 

-

Triss was woken by Eskel stomping in their front door and dropping his gym bag with a dramatic thud. A few moments later she could hear grocery bags settling on the kitchen counter, the distinct sound of wine bottles bumping together reminding her what he probably had planned. 

She ever so slowly tipped over and pushed herself up with her left hand, catching a horrifying full-body reflection in the mirrored closet doors. 

The scabs and little spots that were still bandaged she was starting to get used to, but the rest of her? Looking at herself in sweats that hadn’t been changed in two days, a summer tank top with no bra and coffee stains, and mismatching fuzzy christmas socks was… difficult. Her hair was wild, all the curls stretched out and sticking together in big frizzy clumps that stuck out at odd angles. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had only been four weeks. No one was going to be back to normal after four weeks. Her body was using all its energy to heal, not look put together.

Regardless of her efforts she felt the tears well up in her eyes and her breath hitch with the effort of holding them back. 

It still fucking sucked.

Eskel’s soft touch on her thigh made her jump, “Is it hurting again?”

She shook her head, opening her eyes to see him knelt in front of her with his eyebrows drawn up in worry, “No. I’m okay,” she whispered, pulling herself together and resting her hand over his. 

Eskel tilted his head, “Then what’s wrong?”

“I… I look like I fell down the garbage chute,” she laughed. It wasn’t her usual, musical laugh, though. She laughed because she knew, in the grand scheme of things, it was ridiculous. It felt stupid to be worried about how she looked when she’d lived and, well, laughing was better than more tears.

“You’re always lovely to me,” Eskel hummed, brushing her tears away with the back of his knuckles.

She leaned into his touch and took a steadying breath, “I just don’t feel like me.”

He stretched up to kiss her forehead, “I’m sorry, Bug.”

She just shrugged and squeezed his hand. 

“Yen called. I got a very long lecture on wash day and firm orders to help you wash and deep condition your hair. If you’re feeling up to it,” Eskel flashed that crooked grin she could never resist and she shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

“Are you prepared to follow instructions?” she teased. 

“Babe,” he raised one eyebrow, “the only instructions I don’t follow are on Top Ramen packs.”

-

Eskel seemed to have confused ‘instruction’ with ‘directions’.

“I swear to God, Eskel. You don’t have to read the ‘how to use’ blurb,” Triss groaned, sitting on a kitchen chair they’d moved into the bathroom with dripping wet hair, “Just section off my hair and do what I tell you.” 

“But I don’t want to use too much,” he protested, “This says to use one tablespoon!”

“Yeah! For natural blondes! I have completely different hair and know what I’m doing. Use half the bottle! I don’t care! Just get it fucking clean!” 

Eskel rested his hand on her good shoulder and gave her an apologetic look in the mirror, “I’m sorry. How many sections do you want?” 

“I- it’s not a number. You just- kneel down for me I’ll show you,” she pointed at the floor next to her and sighed, missing Yen more than ever. She drew little lines with her nails through Eskel’s hair as she explained just how to scrub while making the least amount of tangles possible. He watched her in the mirror and pointed to the points on her scalp she was talking about with a look of serious concentration. 

It was cute. Even if he was a little inflexible he really did want to do a good job. 

Conditioner was easier, even combing out the tangles went fairly smooth. They took a break and made dinner, breaking open the good wine. 

Just having her hair down and somewhat bouncy again made Triss feel a million times better. The sweats were exchanged for yoga pants and the tank top for one of Eskel’s sweaters too. It almost felt normal. 

They ate ice cream while he worked the deep conditioning mask through her hair. 

“You sure I’m not using too much?” he asked, leaning over her shoulder to take the bite she held up for him, nice and small so he didn’t get a brain freeze. 

“Fbe moreb fbe bedder,” she tried speaking around a giant bite of ice cream, giggling at the face of confusion he made with the spoon still sticking out of his mouth. 

She swallowed and scrunched her nose at the light brain freeze, “The more, the better. We’ll rinse it out in the morning and I don’t want any dry spots.”

He nodded and waited for her to take the spoon back before getting back to work, “Yes ma’am.” 

“Mmm, I like that.” 

Eskel rolled his eyes as she let down a new section, “Oh do you, now? I had no idea.” 

“Mhm!” she nodded with a proud smile, taking another bite of ice cream and earning a chuckle from him. 

She walked him through a couple rough twists and adjusting the plastic soaking cap before attempting to explain how to tie a headscarf. He was… truly awful. Somehow she ended up almost blindfolded before she just gave up and found him a video to follow. It took him a few tries, but eventually he got it the right level of snug. I 

She tried to tilt her head back to look at him but that pulled at some of her new scar tissue, so she tried another angle and another before she huffed and resorted to standing up to look at him, “Thank you Skel.”

“No problem, Bug,” he hummed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her nose. 

Triss laid her head on his chest, the perfect height for him to rest his chin on top of her head, “No, I mean it. It… helps. A lot.”

He rubbed soothing circles over her back, swaying them slightly, “I’m just glad I could do something…” he took a breath like he wanted to say something more but settled for pressing a kiss to the sloppily tied scarf. She hummed and leaned into him, snaking her hands around his hips and up under his shirt to rest over his back dimples. 

Triss could have stayed there forever. 

[moonbeambucky]

A Wealth of Love

Pairing: Hal Carter x Reader Word Count: 5618 Warnings: fluff, light angst

Summary: The only thing Hal Carter is wealthy in is love but will his forbidden romance last when his past comes back to haunt him?

A/N: This is my submission for @baezen​​​​​​​​​ The other guys writing challenge. My prompt was “Those things you said yesterday…Did you mean them?” Thank you to my love @all1e23​​​​​​​​​ for beta reading 🍕❤️ pic source (x)

Bright sunlight streams in through the windows made brighter by the all white finishings of the large kitchen. This particular afternoon is a hot one, more humid than the last few days and Y/N knows that not everyone can enjoy the comforts of her family’s perfectly air conditioned home. 

A quick search through the cabinets and she finds two large mason jars. Pulling open the fridge she takes out the pitcher of lemonade and in the oversized pantry she pulls out the container of muffins she made earlier that morning. She hums a tune mindlessly as she fills one jar with lemonade, nearly startled by a voice behind her.

“Is this really necessary Y/N?” her stepmother asked, with frustration laced in her tone.

Y/N is quiet as she sets the pitcher down, screwing on the lid and making sure it was tight. With a quiet roll of her eyes she resumed what she was doing. 

“At least you aren’t using the good glassware.” Y/N ignored her snippy comment, having learned not to engage her in conversations like this. 

She sets her items in a basket, filling the other mason jar with ice as the final step before she leaves through the backdoor, finally letting out her own frustrated huff when she was no longer in earshot of her stepmother.

Y/N walked down the freshly manicured grass of the expansive acreage to get to the large white barn where Hal Carter was hard at work. He was the stable hand and has been working for Y/N’s family for almost two years. 

Hal was six feet tall, with strong arms made stronger every day by the work he does. The outline of his muscles could be seen through the plaid button downs he would wear and sometimes take off on the days when he was already overheating in thick jeans and boots. A gentle smile accompanied beautiful blue eyes and soft brown hair that would start to curl when sweat soaked his strands. 

Y/N liked seeing Hal, not just because of how incredible he looks as sweat shines over his body- the image of him lifting his shirt to wipe at his brow, exposing a perfectly carved stomach will forever be seared in her mind- but because he’s kind to her and he doesn’t expect anything from her unlike the rest of the world.

Her father doesn’t understand Y/N’s silly little dream of being a teacher. She had just completed her first year of having her own class and honestly he had hoped the whole ordeal had turned her off. He doesn’t see the point of working anywhere that pays so little and she’s tired of having arguments with him about forgetting his own roots, busting his ass with two jobs and still barely making ends meet until he found success with a patent which launched his business. He would scoff at his past, ashamed of the fact that he wasn’t born into wealth like his wife. 

Unlike her father who felt she should be at a job earning a lot, Y/N’s stepmother didn’t understand why she wanted to work at all. If it were up to her she would have her married off to William Archer III. He was an investment banker who also came from money like Y/N, having attended the same private school but that’s where their similarities ended. 

Y/N was disgusted by his attitude and how little William cared for anyone other than himself. He was a spoiled rich kid that hasn’t worked a real day in his life and never would. His company was his father’s as it was his father’s before him, and the only thing William was actually good at was profiting off the backs of those who work ten times as hard at a fraction of what he makes. 

William constantly pursued Y/N because she turned him down. He liked the challenge, thinking of her as nothing more than game to be hunted, another one of his hobbies that Y/N despises, but instead of mounting her head on the wall he’ll mount her on display around his arm as a picture perfect trophy wife. 

Hal was surprised by Y/N’s refreshing demeanor from the start. He knows his role as staff but unlike the rest of her family Y/N has never made him feel less than. She was a kindhearted soul and quite frankly sometimes he doesn't believe she’s actually related to them. 

The first time Hal met Y/N he was cleaning out one of the stalls in the stables. He took a moment to pause and wipe the sweat from his brow, nearly jumping out of his skin when he saw her standing there. She was beautiful, there was no doubt in his mind about that, and even more beautiful as she stood there flashing a radiant smile as she apologized for scaring him. She was coming in to check on one the horses, Percy, to see firsthand if his stomach issues had gotten better.

The smell alone in the stables was enough to keep her family away but Y/N didn’t mind at all, grabbing a manure fork of her own before Hal had the chance to protest so she could inspect the droppings herself. 

“He’s doing much better now Miss Y/L/N,” Hal said. She took note of the slightest hint of a Midwest accent in his voice though it was mostly undetectable. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” she beamed, setting the fork aside and stepping forward to see the horses enjoying their day on the open lawn. She spotted Percy grazing on the grass and her heart lifted, glad to see that he was doing better. “Oh, and it’s just Y/N,” she said, looking over her shoulder back at Hal.

The formality her parents required from those they employ is not for her. Y/N knew they were privileged to have a group of people working for them, in the house and on the grounds; but Y/N always felt her parents would forget that these people were actual humans with lives that didn’t and shouldn’t revolve around their family and not robotic slaves meant to carry out all their wishes without complaint.

Hal gave a respectable nod to her, curbing his smile to a professional one as he excused himself back to work. 

Their interactions increased over time, especially with Y/N spending a lot of time with her favorite horse Penelope. She liked to brush her down and bring her apples she picked from the trees on property, and whenever they went riding Hal couldn’t take his eyes off her.

When Y/N was saddled up on Penelope’s back it seemed like it was the only time she truly felt in control of her life. It was true. Riding allowed her the time to clear her mind and with the wind in her hair she let go of everything outside of that moment.

But there was one thing that she couldn’t shake from her thoughts, Hal Carter. 

It didn’t take long before for their friendship to develop and quite soon after a forbidden romance. It was something they worked hard at, deleting texts right after sending them, hiding their pictures together. Y/N’s stepmother had a tendency to snoop so she did everything she could to protect their relationship. 

Hal tasted the lemonade from her lips, his calloused hands wrapped around Y/N’s waist, backing her up towards the wall to steal more of the sweetness he couldn’t get enough of and he didn’t mean the drink. 

Her lips were soft against his, a heavenly touch that set every part of him aflame. The idea of sneaking around made both their hearts race, every noise keeping them on edge with “what ifs” racing through their minds. If they were caught Hal would surely be fired and though they wouldn’t have to hide their relationship any more that’s not something Y/N wanted.

Hal rarely spoke to her about money; she understood and didn’t push the issue. She knew his financial situation wasn’t the best and that despite her parent’s attitude towards the staff they actually paid them surprisingly well. It wasn’t something he ever flaunted but it wasn’t something neither of them could deny. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like all of this could slip away from him, that one day Y/N will wake up and realize what a big mistake she made. She could date anybody, someone her parents’ won’t turn their nose up to, someone who could afford to take her out. Not even to a fancy place because Hal knows she doesn’t care about that but he’s ashamed he can’t even take her anywhere. 

“Darlin’, you deserve everything.” The corner of his lips sunk into a frown as he sighed, “And I can’t give you that.”

“Hal, I have everything and I don’t want it, I only want you.” 

He was shocked by her admission, still finding it hard to believe. “I’m nothing Y/N. I have nothing. I’m lucky I even have this job.”

She brushed the hair away from his eyes, letting her hand move down cup the soft skin of his cheek, warm against her palm. “What do you want Hal? You don’t have to work for my family forever. Whatever’s holding you back I’ll help.”

He smiled, taking her hand off his cheek to kiss the delicate knuckles of her skin. She knows what he’s doing, changing the subject when he doesn’t want to answer. Again, she doesn’t push him.

“Follow me,” he said, letting go of her hands. 

They walk along the fence of the pasture, down the slope of a small hill before they stop at a bright red maple tree. Hal adjusts Y/N to stand in the right spot, his solid frame behind her, leaning in as he points his finger up between the branches.

“Can you see?” he asked, and she tried to follow the line of sight for his finger. 

She isn’t sure what she’s looking for until she sees it, the slightest movement of a robin moving its head, spying on them from her nest.

“She’s been sittin’ on those eggs for a week now,” Hal said, smiling because he knows Y/N’s love of animals is not just for horses. They’ll be hatching soon and he can’t wait to bring her to see them. 

If this is what their dates are for now then Hal doesn’t mind it at all. Any time spent with her he’s grateful for but Y/N knows she’s been gone for too long and knowing her stepmother she probably set a timer the moment Y/N walked out of the door. 

Back in the stables she packs up the empty mason jars and reluctantly says goodbye. Hal holds her close as they kiss, the slip of his tongue in her mouth makes her yearn for more. A soft hum bubbles in her throat before she grabs the back of his head, deepening the kiss as their tongues dance together. 

They get carried away and Hal falls back into a pile of hay, protecting Y/N in his arms as she falls on top of him. With a final press to his lips she gets up, extending her hands out to Hal to pull him up. He helps wipe off any hay that may have gotten attached to her, watching her figure get smaller the further she walks away from him as she makes her way back to the main house.

With a heavy sigh Hal gets back to work, knowing for now their secret is kept by the horses, the only ones who seemed to be rooting for them. 

“What took you so long?” Her stepmother scowled, throwing her a sharp accusatory glare. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, opening the basket to take out the mason jars. Over her shoulder she responded, “You know how I like to spend time with Penelope.”

As she washes the glasses Y/N can’t see the disapproving shake of her stepmother’s head, especially as she sees a strand of hay stuck on the fabric of Y/N’s leg. She doesn’t say anything. The clack of her heels echo through the large home as she stomps her way out of the kitchen, not liking this one bit.

Y/N comes down the grand stairway when dinner is ready, her hand languidly gliding down the banister. It’s not that she didn’t want to eat with her parents, she didn’t mind their company as long as they didn’t pester her about the things that parents do, but she was tired of seeing them. 

Going away for college had been a wonderful escape, to be Y/N Y/L/N, regular college student and not the girl with a rich family. Her father was right, teaching does not pay well but she isn’t doing it for the money. However she did need to save a bit so she could move out and finally be on her own. She had assets in a trust fund but she refused to use them, wanting to prove to her family that she didn’t need their money.

“There she is,” the somewhat familiar voice of a man called out.

Y/N lifted her head, frozen in shock to find William Archer III sitting at her dining table. 

A cheshire cat smile stretched across her stepmother’s face. “Look who came by!” she feigned surprise. Y/N knew her stepmother had called him the moment she left to see Hal. 

There was plenty of space at the table but most of the chairs had been removed, leaving only one open and unsurprisingly it was next to William. Y/N plastered a smile to her face and held the back of the chair, moving it as far away from him as she could before she was scolded by her stepmother. It was embarrassing, especially when her father chimed in to remind her that they don’t treat guests this way. If only they knew what he was really like. Reluctantly, she returned the chair to its spot next to him though she kept a greater distance than where it was originally. 

Y/N wondered if she was the only one who noticed the way William would speak wildly with his hands, these big gestures that involved movement of his whole body giving him an excuse to adjust his chair again and somehow he had ended up right beside her. She ignored him as best as she could, moving her leg away each time his hand “just happened” to brush against her thigh. 

She tries her best to be pleasant despite the very unpleasant circumstances, making small talk when William didn’t talk over her. 

“Hal says the robin chicks will be born soon. I can’t wait to see them,” Y/N beamed, her smile fading as she caught the tail end of her stepmother’s eye roll. 

“Oh, I didn’t know Hal was an avian expert now. Honey perhaps we should give him a raise, a man with such an extensive animal background,” her stepmother said sarcastically.

“That’s because he is one!” William chimed in, bursting out with a round of belly aching laughter, a duet with her stepmother’s own cackling.

Y/N expected that from her but she was even more disappointed to see her father snickering. 

“That’s enough!” She slammed her hand against the table, the flame of the candlesticks wobbling back to a steady flicker. “I’m sick and tired of all you thinking you’re better than Hal or anyone else just because you have money. It’s disgusting.”

Her father clenched his jaw, “I know you like to forget this Y/N but you have money too. Stop acting like it’s something you’re so ashamed of. I worked hard to give us what we have.”

“Did you?” she asked accusingly. “Because it’s been so long since you had to bust your ass like Hal I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be a decent person!”

Her stepmother balked in disgust. “Young lady you do not speak to your father this way.”

Y/N ignored her as she got up from the table, stomping her way out of the house. The evening air was cool and she felt immediate relief on her skin that burned hot after her emotionally fueled eruption. Her stepmother has always been a snob but she hates the fact that her father has lost touch with reality. 

“Hey.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose upon hearing William’s voice, the last person she wanted to ever see. Hal was in the distance, working late and she was hoping to say goodbye to him before he left. Now that William’s here she can’t. 

Turning around she huffed, not hiding her contempt. William’s hands were up in a small attempt to convey that he wasn’t looking for trouble. 

“Are you okay?” His tone seemed sincere but Y/N kept her guard up. “I know you don’t like me but I do care about you Y/N. I always have.” 

She knows better than to trust him but something inside her breaks and she lets out a shuddering sob. Y/N didn’t want to feel the way she does about her parents but she can’t help it. She wished her parents were better people, she wished she could openly speak to them about how she feels, and not having to hide her relationship with Hal. She wishes things were different.

William hesitantly offers a hug and in desperation Y/N takes it, crying against him. “It’ll be okay,” he comforts, rubbing her back.

With her back turned she doesn’t see the smirk on William’s face as he spots Hal in the distance. He lets Y/N pull away, feeling comfortable enough to have gained his trust for a moment before he acts. Like a leech he grabs her face, forcing her lips to his, his tongue probing forcefully into her mouth.

Y/N is pushing him off with her hands as best as she could, scrunching her face and whipping her head around to get away from him. Her efforts don’t take her very far as his lips get closer again so instead she kicks him in between his legs. 

William doubles over in pain. “You little bitch!” he sneered, grabbing her by the hair as she tried to run away. 

His clenched hand raised to her but immediately felt his arm wrench back. He was turned around forcibly by Hal, whose own fist socked William right in the jaw. The hard punch took the coward down and while he was busy screaming expletives Hal went to Y/N.

“Darlin’, did he hurt you?” The softness of Hal’s voice brought tears to her eyes that fell down her cheeks as she shook her head. She found true comfort in Hal’s arms, apologizing for what had happened. “Shhh, you have nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassured her. 

“You’ll pay for putting your hands on me y-you… dirty lowlife scum!” William threatened, walking away from them. 

Hal’s jaw clenched with anger but Y/N’s gentle palm caressing his cheek made him release his tension. 

“I’m sorry Hal,” she said, and once again he stopped her but this time with a soft kiss to her lips. Y/N had nothing to be sorry for but on nights like this Hal felt sorry for her, thinking she wouldn’t have to go through this if she gave her heart to a better man than him.

There’s a knocking at her door and before she can get up her stepmother has already let herself into Y/N’s room. “We need to talk about what happened...” she said, settling down on Y/N’s bed beside her. Y/N braced herself for a lecture before her stepmother finished. “...after you left.”

Relief washed over her believing the serious look on her stepmother’s face was not meant to scold her but about what happened with William.

“I hope you saw what I’ve been telling you, William is–”

“William? Y/N no, this is about Hal.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Hal?”

“He assaulted William. Your father and I need to reconsider his employment.”

She stared at her stepmother in disbelief. Was she actually naive enough to believe what William told her? Y/N answered her own question as her stepmother continued to talk about “poor William” and how he had to drive home holding a bag of ice to his face.

“William is a liar. He forced himself on me! Hal was only trying to protect me. How do you not see this?”

Her stepmother took Y/N’s hand in her own, awkward and unsure if this felt right or not. She was unable to have children of her own and perhaps that’s why she treated Y/N so poorly from the start, resenting her and never truly accepting her as her daughter. Y/N was passed off to au pairs and maids to be cared for as her stepmother went shopping or to the spa. Y/N has always felt disconnected to her stepmother and even more so now.

“Sweetheart, I know men like Hal. They’re fine to look at but they can’t provide for you, not the way William can.”

“You don’t know the first thing abou–” Y/N’s cheek stung at the unexpected slap she received. 

“Don’t tell me what I know because I know exactly what you’ve been up to with Hal. Stay away from him. Hal is not the one for you.”

Y/N rose from her bed, stomping as she paced in front of her stepmother, waving her finger in her face as she told her off. 

“I’m leaving. I’m going to get Hal and we’re leaving and there’s nothing you can do about that!”

“He isn’t here.���

Y/N’s eyes narrowed at her stepmother, her nostrils flaring, teeth clenching together as she hissed, “What did you do?”

“Nothing! He asked for the day off, though his days are numbered. As soon as we find someone to take his position…” her stepmother said without hiding the joy in her voice. She sauntered out of Y/N’s room feeling proud, not giving a single care she broke down crying. 

Her vision was clouded by tears as she texted Hal, wondering why he didn’t tell her he wouldn’t be there today. It took a few hours for him to respond, every waiting minute adding to her anxiety but when he finally did she was able to take a deep breath. Hal reassured her that he was fine and wondered if she could meet him later. 

Y/N told her family she was going shopping as she headed out, instead she drove to Hal’s. They were only twenty minutes apart and yet they lived in such different worlds. The homes in Hal’s area were older, small ranch style houses on lots smaller than her home’s driveway. She had so much more than this community and yet they had everything she wanted. 

She sees a dog being walked by a couple, hand in hand as they stroll down the sidewalk not worried about hiding their love. Y/N comes to a stop in the street to let the children playing move to the side. She gives a friendly smile as she slowly rolls past them, seeing their happy faces in the rear view mirror. She wonders if anyone can see how she aches behind her smile, desperate to be as happy as them one day. She parks behind his truck on the street and texts that she’s there.

When Hal came to New York he was sleeping in his truck, desperate for a place to stay. His friend Peter offered him a room which Hal helped close off and renovate into an unofficial one bedroom apartment in the back of the house. Peter needed the cash to pay his mortgage so it worked out for both of them. 

Y/N had been over a dozen times but Hal was embarrassed every time she did. His place was small but he kept it as nice as he could. He didn’t have much furniture, a bed, a pretty beat up looking couch, a small table that barely fit in his small kitchen. She told him over and over how she didn’t care about material things and deep down Hal knows that but he can’t help those feelings anyway.

She runs into his arms, enveloped by his warmth as he squeezes her tight. “I missed you darlin’,” he cooed as he tips her chin with his fingers, pressing his lips to hers.

“What happened today?” Y/N can’t help the worry woven through her words.

He takes her by the hand and they sit on his bed; he never liked Y/N sitting on that dirty couch of his. 

“I had something to take care of today… for our future.” She looks at him with hopeful eyes. “I had some trouble in my past, surprised it didn’t catch up to me yet to be honest. Once this is over I can work anywhere, we can live that life we want darlin’.”

Tears roll down her cheek, their path altered by the curve of her smile. Hal’s thumb brushes them away gently, bringing his lips to her forehead and after the softness of her lips. Clothes are slowly discarded and Hal takes his time making love to her, joining her passionate cries with moans of his own as they peak together to the heights of bliss.

He cradles her in his arms, his fingertips grazing soft circles over her back as they lay together for as long as they could, knowing Y/N would have to leave soon. The time comes sooner than they wanted and with reluctance they get dressed. 

A knock at the door startled them both, the sound of a voice even more shocking.

“Y/N! I know you’re in there!” her stepmother taunted, banging roughly against the glass pane of the screen door.

Her jaw dropped open in shock as she could only think about what a psycho her stepmother was. “Did she follow me?” Y/N whispered to Hal, panic washing over her. 

There was no point in hiding anymore, not if her parents really were firing Hal, and if that was a bluff they most certainly would now. 

Hand in hand they proudly step out from his door onto the small pathway on the side of the house. It’s there when Y/N’s jaw drops in shock to see William standing beside her stepmother, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder with two police officers.

“That’s him,” William points at Hal, a smug look plastered on his face. 

A man as tall as Hal took a step towards him, roughly separating his hand from Y/N’s as he began to cuff his hands behind his back, reading him his rights as he walked Hal towards the police car parked crookedly in the driveway. 

“What are you doing?” Y/N pleaded for an answer. 

William answered her question, informing Y/N that Hal had a warrant out for his arrest for auto theft in Kansas. She realized that’s what Hal must have been talking about. 

“I have friends everywhere Y/N and I will make this harder for him unless…” William tried to lace his fingers with hers but Y/N quickly snapped her arm away. 

She watched helplessly as Hal was stuffed into the back of the car, wiping away the tears that began to fall. Her stepmother sauntered up beside her, making some comment about how appalled she was that she had a fugitive working for her, that’s when Y/N snapped.

“Enough! I don’t give a shit what you say. Fugitive or not Hal’s a better person than you’ll ever be. I love him, I love him with every piece of my heart and I’m going to do everything in my power to stop this.” 

The car drove away with Hal craning his neck around, not knowing if he would ever be able to see Y/N again.

“Hal! Are you okay?” Y/N said, hugging him with all her might. 

The breeze on his skin felt nice but it was nothing compared to having her in his arms again. “Much better now darlin’,” he replied, squeezing his arms around her. 

Hal spent the night in jail, calling Y/N to ask for her help. He explained everything, that back in Kansas he had borrowed his friend Alan’s car to take a girl named Madge out on a date. Alan’s jealousy got the best of him and he reported the car as stolen. They haven’t spoken since.

Once Y/N got Hal’s call she contacted her attorney, sought out every Alan Seymour she could find before she narrowed it down to the one he went to college with. She spent all morning working with the attorney to have him stop the extradition proceedings and arrange for bail instead. She couldn’t think of a better thing to use the money from her trust fund on.

“I’m so sorry about all of this darlin’, I never meant for it to come out like this. Alan coulda taken it back then but he was still mad ‘nd probably worried about lyin’ to the police.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Hal,” she assured him, cupping his cheeks with her hand. He pressed against her palm, his lips pulling into a small smile as he looked at her. “I can’t believe my stepmother had you arrested. I hate her. I hate my father. I hate what they’ve become. Let’s go away together.”

As the words fell from her lips every part of Hal’s body stiffened with worry. He was about to ask a question before Y/N interrupted him. 

“I’m done with them Hal. I don’t care how hard I have to work to put this behind us. We’ll get through this together because that’s how I want to spend the rest of our lives.”

It was hard to hide the way Hal’s lips were pressed into a thin smile. He didn’t tell Y/N the full story, that Madge came with him when he left Kansas, to get away from her family too. By the time they got into Missouri she turned around, realizing she couldn’t leave them. 

This was different though. Hal didn’t care if Madge came or not, he didn’t feel the same way about her as he does with Y/N, which is why this is so hard for him.

“Those things you said yesterday…Did you mean them?” Hal asked, holding her hands in his. Y/N nodded and Hal let out a sigh. “I love you too Y/N but I can’t ask you to choose between me and your family.”

Her heart skipped a beat but not in the way Hal had made it done in the past. This pain was sharp in her chest and she would have fallen down if Hal hadn’t been holding her. Those were the last words she expected. 

“But you’re not asking Hal, this is my choice.”

“I know darlin’ but trust me on this, if we ran away we’d be happy but in the back of your mind I know how you’d feel, wonderin’ if your parents were okay because I know deep down you love ‘em and it would break my heart to see you tryin’ to cover that up. I can’t put that on you.”

“Hal, please…” she cried. “Don’t say this.”

This is the last thing Hal wants, Y/N is everything he’s ever wanted in life but things were always too good to be true for him. He was doing this for her even though it hurts, because Y/N deserves the best. 

“I love you Y/N, more than anything in this world. I know I can’t ever repay you for gettin’ me out, and I know your parents think I’ll never be good enough for ya but–”

“You’re wrong son.” 

A familiar voice has their heads turning around to find Y/N’s father standing there. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” Y/N was confused, unaware of the way she took a protective step in front of Hal.

“I came to bail out Mr. Carter but it seems you’ve already done that. I wanted to tell him that Mr. Seymour has been contacted and he will be revoking his initial claim.”

“Sir, I appreciate that but I can’t ask anything of you,” Hal began.

“You didn’t have to. I owe you an apology for my wife’s behavior. She was wrong and after I heard the truth about what happened with William I owe you a thanks as well for protecting my daughter.” 

The corner of Hal’s mouth turned upwards as he replied, “You don’t have to thank me for that sir, I would take a bullet for Y/N if it meant she’d be safe.” 

“I can see that. You’re a good man Mr. Carter, a hard working man that reminds me of the person I was a long time ago.” Her father shares a look with Y/N, nodding his head ever so slightly. “And I see the way you love my daughter, that makes you good enough in my eyes.” 

Her father extends his hand towards Hal who is hesitant at first to shake it, waiting for the other shoe to drop but the sincerity in the eyes of the man before him sets his mind at ease. The two men shake and soon enough Y/N is back in Hal’s arms.

The weight is lifted from their shoulders knowing they have her father’s support, not only in Hal’s defense but in their relationship. Hiding is in the past and Hal couldn’t be happier. The truth is no matter what he told Y/N before Hal knew he wouldn’t have been strong enough to let her go.

As Hal held Y/N in his arms he vowed to never again feel ashamed about material things he didn’t have because Hal was rich where it counted, in his heart.

[logically-asexual]

I want to give you your grin

i made this for @loceitweek2021 Day 2: Crook/Aftermath

summary:

After Thomas chose to go to the wedding, Janus has a lot of work for his plans to work out, and that includes getting Logic on his side. Logan currently is constantly being left out. He is trying too hard (and failing) to make himself fit in with the others, so he will try anything to feel useful.

Janus decides to take advantage of this (and Logan's denied feelings for him) to get away with his scheme, but what neither of them expect is actually falling for each other in the process.

warnings: emotional manipulation, Logan is very insecure. let me know if i should add more.

Read on AO3

Chapter 3 (last)

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words: 2424

Janus was very satisfied with the progress he had made with Logan, and how the pieces of his plan were falling together. He had everything under control, and now that Thomas was driving back home from the wedding, he was ready for the final act. Something in him felt guilty about pushing Logic away and impersonating him again, but it was indispensable to his plan. Besides, it wasn’t him who was going to shut Logic down, he was just going to wait for an opportunity when the others did.

Janus couldn’t tell whether Logan’s recent support of him was causing the others to embrace Deceit or to reject Logan even more, but, frankly, he didn’t care. It wasn’t his problem, he just had one goal in mind and it was taking advantage of Thomas’ mood today to finally make him listen to reason. If that came with the little side-effect of Logan coming to him later for comfort, well that was just another advantage. It was always amusing to see the stuck-up teacher all emotionally troubled.

“What the f***, everybody?”

That was Thomas. It was showtime.

During the discussion, everything went as he expected. Logan was even showing up with the written support-facts quite often (if Janus had been the one to hint something to spark that idea, for Logan to show up instead of staying out of it, no one had to know). Having spent his time a little closer to Logan in the past weeks also helped Janus improve his impression of him.

He had been ready, and it was all perfect until he pulled Logan with his crook, because he definitely wasn’t prepared for what would happen afterwards.

✩ ✩ ✩

Logan didn’t fully process what happened when Patton pressed the “SKIP” button next to him, not until he felt his back collide with someone, and the pressure on his neck was relieved. It took a minute for him to be able to catch his breath, and to be able to focus on anything other than the pain of the bruise that was surely forming. Once he did, he almost stumbled backwards again, but a steady hand on his shoulder and the chest of the other Side behind him helped him recover his balance.

Still coughing lightly, Logan turned around to see Deceit, who seemed slightly concerned for a moment, before relaxing to a smug expression. The space he was in was pitch black, but with just enough light to illuminate him and Deceit, who was now proudly standing with a tall curve-shaped staff in his hand.

“Logan, darling, how are you doing?”

Logan rolled his eyes at the patronizing tone, and decided to simply turn around and walk away, looking for an exit. However, he was immediately stopped by Deceit’s crook (now on his shoulder), and once again pulled backwards to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Deceit’s low voice whispered in his ear.

“Back to work. In case you couldn’t tell, I was in the middle of something.” He pulled himself out of the other’s hold and faced him again, with arms crossed.

“Oh, right, because Patton and Roman are clearly thrilled to take your additions into account, as demonstrated by what just happened before you were brought here.”

“That doesn’t matter, I have to keep trying.”

“You don’t “have” to do anything. Why don’t you-”

“I don’t want to hear your suggestions. I just have to find-” Logan wouldn’t fall for Deceit’s games that easily.

“Find what?”

“Nothing, none of your business. Just let me go and get my work done.”

“You’re going to keep silently displaying information that no one wants to read?”

“No, I-”

“Or are you going to start talking without invitation for them to cut you off again?”

“No, there’s-”

“Or are you going to stay quiet until Patton calls you in and then go against your own values to say something that the others want to hear?” There was that displeased glare again that Logan just couldn’t bear.

“Look, there has to be an answer. I must find the way. I am Logic, I know there is a solution and if I don’t find it through conscientious strategizing at least I will through elimination of everything else that didn’t work!”

Logan moved to escape once again, but Deceit rapidly grabbed him by his arms and slammed him to a nearby wall, previously invisible in the darkness of the room. His hands moved to hold Logan’s shoulders, and another pair pinned his wrists to either side of his body. Logan struggled desperately against him, but to no avail.

“Logan, look at me.”

Logan looked up, but the tears that were building up for his distress made the image unclear.

“You’ll find your place, and how your role fits, but you have to just wait and let it happen.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I am not-”

“You are! I know it’s not true, and I know I’ve been in denial all this time, okay? I know it’s hopeless to think I can make myself useful again, and that I really am out of options. I have tried everything; to protest and to comply, to support them and to hold back, to have opinions and to state only facts from Thomas’ memories, to agree with them and... to agree with you, even.” He looked downwards at the gloved hands keeping him stuck, and continued quietly. “It all goes wrong, eventually. The problem is me.”

A fifth hand came to his chin, lifting his face to meet Janus’ gaze.

“Listen,” Janus was choosing his words carefully, “Thomas is changing, because he has to. Of course that will affect all of us, and it will be messy.”

Logan knew that. “But that means I have to-”

“Ah ah ah. As he finds himself again, you will find your own role. But you have to give him time, give him the chance to find the right place for you... hopefully on my team,” he added with a wink. After a pause, he went on, with a deadly serious tone Logan had never heard from him. “This is a change you can’t control, but it’ll pass. I’ll make sure of that.”

He moved the hand previously on his chin to the side, his thumb brushing against Logan’s cheek. Logan leaned into the soft sensation, feeling exposed but understood, in a way he hadn’t felt in years. At that moment he realized how close the two of them were, and how from this distance he could make out hints of yellow swirling in both of Deceit’s irises. Deceit’s eyes seemed to be studying his own just as meticulously while he slowly moved closer.

Janus was running out of time, and he had already missed a part of the conversation with Patton. He really couldn’t miss this opportunity and ruin everything he had planned. But there was something about the way Logan’s teary eyes were staring up at him, wide open and shaken, but so full of trust, that captivated him. So he leaned forward and kissed him without thinking twice.

The kiss wasn’t strong or passionate, Deceit only pressed their mouths together and lingered there. To Logan, it was perfect. Even with the softness of it, he felt almost overwhelmed, but closed his eyes and relaxed into it, and let the warm sensation wash over him for a moment. It quieted his mind in the only satisfying way he could imagine.

Deceit slowly pulled away, and studied his eyes for an instant. Before Logan could even take a breath in, he was gone. He just... disappeared. Logan tried to follow after him, before realizing that both his wrists were tied to the wall behind him.

He attempted to make the bounds disappear but nothing happened, so he tried to physically pull them off, which turned out fruitless, as well. He groaned in frustration. This was part of Deceit’s powers, after all. He could keep any Side hidden or silenced for however long he wanted. Logan just had to wait until whatever Deceit had planned was done or until he was distracted enough to let the effect wear out.

Logan thought that, unlike Roman, he would be immune to it, but the traitorous snake got away with using and taking advantage of his feelings, too.

... What feelings, anyway? What did Logan even feel for Deceit to make him act like this?

He groaned again. Of all the things that could have happened to him, he was left alone with his thoughts for an undetermined amount of time, to confront attraction and other sickening emotions he was apparently feeling but wasn’t previously aware of? Why couldn’t Deceit have left him with the Duke? The torture would have been less painful.

He leaned against the wall, ready to begin figuring things out, and noticed Deceit took his tie with him, too. He was clever, Logan couldn’t lie about that.

✩ ✩ ✩

Despite the unprecedented distraction, Janus carried on with his scheme, disguising as Logan successfully. He had been somewhat worried, because Logan is a lot more than just referencing studies and taking things literally, but lately it was all he showed to the others, so it wasn’t surprising that that was all he needed for the impression.

If everything went well, Patton would finally admit that he was wrong, and allow Thomas to relax, then Deceit could leave them all alone for a while and he wouldn’t have to face Logan.

Except it did not go well.

First, Logan showed up when he was about to reach a breakthrough with Thomas. Janus assumed it would ruin everything, since Logan would call him out for his tricks and derail the conversation, and it was embarrassing to see him either way. To his surprise, however, not only did Logan dodge the topic of what had happened between them, but he also interjected with an argument in Deceit’s favor. Well, kind of. Janus didn’t care about how “altruistic” Thomas could be, but the idea gave strength to Deceit’s proposal of self care, while being balanced enough for Thomas to approve of.

So that was awkward, but ultimately satisfactory.

After that, everything seemed to be going smoothly, up until Roman’s little dramatic episode. And yeah, Janus probably deserved it, but it was still annoying. Whatever, Thomas listened to him in the end and it’s not like he expected Roman, of all Sides, to respect him or his name. Patton or anyone else could deal with the petty Prince later. Once Thomas acknowledged that Janus was right and that he would take time for himself with less guilt and more often, his job was done, and the emotional turmoil left behind was an issue for the emotional Sides to resolve. He had more important matters to attend to.

That was, until Logan showed up unannounced in his room later that night.

Logan didn’t really know what he was doing when he went to Deceit after everyone had calmed down, but he was overthinking and that just wouldn’t be healthy. He had to take action to let out all those thoughts impending his focus.

“So... Janus?”

Janus didn’t look up from the snake he was feeding. “Wrong number, and we’re currently out of service, try again never. Thank you.”

“This is a presencial conversation, I’m not talking on the phon-”

“What did you come here for?”

Logan looked down, fidgeting with his tie. “I... I guess I never thanked you.”

That made Janus glance up. “Thank me?”

“I didn’t want to recognize it, but I have been forcing myself to fit into something that I am not. You are right,-“ Janus would never get tired of hearing that- “we’re all changing, and although I do like it when I can predict how things will happen, for this situation I will have to be patient, and wait until Thomas can make sense of himself, and then make sense of me.” Logan stepped closer to the other Side. “Realizing this lifted a figurative weight off my shoulders that I didn’t know I was carrying. So thank you.”

“So, you’re no longer going to be an exasperating people-pleaser?”

“No,” he chuckled, “you already showed me how distressing taking that to an extreme can be.” Yes, that was definitely what Janus was trying to do, to teach Logan a lesson and totally not to manipulate him to get away with his plans, of course not.

They both stood quietly for a minute, searching for something else to say.

“I guess if you can do it, I have to thank you, too.” Janus, finally said. “For helping me earlier.”

“Ah. I wasn’t trying to help you, really. But I do agree with you, and after having some time to think,” Logan paused for a moment to look accusingly at Janus, who smiled awkwardly, “I remembered reading about effective altruism, and I genuinely thought it was the best choice.”

Maybe Janus underestimated Logan, but he did know he was more valuable than what the others credited him for. “I think so, too.”

Janus still hoped that Logan would be on his side more often, now that they knew it worked well for them, but he couldn’t deny that the concept of Logan confidently debating him was exciting. So far, seeing Logan follow his lead was the best feeling in the world, but perhaps it could be pushed to second place by Logic finally speaking his own mind.

Logan lowered his gaze to the snake in the tank next to them. It was bright yellow, and impressively big. He made a mental note to inquire about it another day, before looking back up when he felt Janus rest a hand on his shoulder.

“We are a good team.”

Logan could tell he was being sincere this time, and smiled up at him, his eyes again open and affectionate. He could let bitterness and anger take over him for how Deceit abandoned him tied up earlier, but if he was already going to be disturbed by strong emotions, it might as well be enjoyable ones. Besides, he had just come to terms with a crush, something he would have never pictured himself doing, so he couldn’t let it go to waste.

Logan reached out to hold Janus’ free hand, and leaned in to kiss him quickly.

Things were far from getting back in order, and there was a lot left to figure out, but at that moment, both of them knew that right here, next to each other, they fit in perfectly.

[redorich]

Out of This World

Niki watches despairingly as her new roommate, one Mr. Wilbur Soot, once again pours water into his cereal. He seems to prefer it that way; Niki can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, whether her roommate is a literal alien from outer space, or just the weirdest motherfucker she’s ever met.

What kind of a last name is Soot, anyway? She thinks to herself unkindly. At least he doesn’t leave dirty clothes on the floor for her to clean up like her last roommate did. But seriously, Niki can’t tell if this man is a crackhead or not.

“Niki, can you pass the salt?” Wilbur says, breaking her out of her reverie. Without thinking, she plucks it from the lowest shelf of the tiny kitchen cabinet and hands it to him. She regrets it instantly when he begins to salt his cereal.

Breathing deeply so as not to grab him by his bony shoulders and shout, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”, she flees the scene of the food crime. When Niki was in college, she was surrounded by people who asserted they had the world figured out. Atoms and gravity and wavelengths. But Niki knows that humanity is desperate to control the uncontrollable, define that which cannot be explained. Science, Niki knows, isn’t just throwing out what doesn’t fit, but rather taking all the data and asking the question, “Why?” So, she thinks, let’s consider the data. 

-------

Niki sneaks trepidatiously to the door to Wilbur’s bedroom. Who knows what sort of unholy, confusing mess he’s got in there, lurking in wait for its next unsuspecting victim. A pinch of guilt hits her. Yeah, Wilbur may be a lunatic, but an alien? Really? It’s a bit uncharitable of her to think such a thing. Shaking herself, she knocks on the door.

“Yes?” Wilbur’s voice carries from inside the room. “Come in.”

Steeling herself, she turns the doorknob with a sweaty palm and is faced with…

A bed. A desk with a computer on it. Two pairs of shoes lined neatly near the closet. Wilbur is taking off his headphones-- he was playing Minecraft. How… ordinary of him.

“Hi, Wilbur. Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted, uh, to see how you were settling in.”

Wilbur smiles his pretty smile. “Thank you. Quite unaccustomed am I to the comforts of-- apartments.”

What Yoda-ass kind of phrasing is that? Niki thinks. A figurine of the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters stares her down from its place on Wilbur’s desk. She meets its eyes warily.

“Oh! Noticed my Ghostbusters statuette, have you?” Wilbur says brightly. “I have more in my closet, if you should like to see them.”

Niki is filled with a sick sense of curiosity. Yes, she wants to see whatever insane thing Wilbur hides in his closet, but she also doesn’t. She idly wonders if Wilbur has ever read The Cask of Amontillado. She feels like he has. This is not comforting.

Wilbur doesn’t sense her hesitation. A small corner of her brain thinks it’s because he’s unfamiliar with human body language. Without pause, Wilbur opens the closet door, revealing…

Niki’s first thought is, where does he keep his clothes? Because the closet is filled with Ghostbusters paraphernalia. The entire. Fucking. Closet. It wasn’t even that great of a movie?? How much did Wilbur spend on this, anyway?

Her roommate misinterprets her blank uncomprehending stare as a marveling gaze. He puffs up proudly.

“Such a profound impact have these movies made! I am truly fortunate to have met a lass of such upstanding artistic caliber, that you should also enjoy the Ghostbusters franchise.”

“Thank you for showing me this,” she says slowly. “I need to-- water the dog. I mean, I left the stove on. At my friend’s house. Uh, see you later.”

She beats a hasty retreat, leaving her apartment for Eret’s place. Something whispers in the depths of her mind: Doesn’t one of the Ghostbusters movies have aliens in it?

-------

Orange is her favorite nail polish color. Eret paints the nails on her right hand in that soft warm shade of orange as he listens to her complain.

“Am I being irrational? Like, do you think I’m going too far?” 

Eret hums noncommittally, putting a little flamingo sticker on her index nail. “He does sound like an unusual person, but I don’t know if I would say he’s an alien.” 

Niki nods her head, since she can’t gesture with her hands. “Okay, yeah, sure-- but he puts salt in his cereal with water. He has a literal dragon’s hoard of memorabilia from shitty movies that came out like three decades ago. And his vibe is just...off. Like when I talk to him, he’s there, but his head’s drifting off somewhere in outer space. God, I’m the worst.”

Eret protests. “Hey, hey, you’re not the worst. Look. I don’t know why this dude is bugging you out so much, but you said he didn’t seem dangerous, right?”

Niki nods dejectedly.

“So, we can figure this out together,” Eret says with a flourish, screwing the top back onto the bottle of polish.

The tender moment is interrupted by Niki’s ringtone. It’s from Wilbur; speak of the devil and he shall appear. Gingerly, so as not to ruin the wet paint on her nails, she picks up the phone and puts it on speaker. “Hello?” she says, motioning for Eret to remain quiet.

“Ahoy, Niki! Wherefore are mine frog legs gone?”

“What?” Eret mouths at her. Niki doesn’t understand either.

“Sorry, Wilbur, what was that?”

“My frog legs,” comes the crackly timbre of a phone in an area with poor reception. “They are no longer in the refrigerator.”

Niki sputters. “Why did you have frog legs in the-- no, never mind. I don’t know what happened to your frog legs, Wilbur.”

The phone line repeats static to her for a moment as Wilbur pauses. “Interesting. Perhaps they walked away, as legs are so oft wont to do. Niki, would you mind dearly to purchase some more? And perhaps, be you willing, some condensed milk?”

Eret silently gags at the idea of frog legs and condensed milk together. Niki doesn’t blame him.

“Okay,” Niki says. 

Eret shakes his head at her, as though begging her not to torture herself like this. The moment Niki hangs up, the first words out of Eret’s mouth are, “That man is one hundred percent an alien. I am so sorry I ever doubted you.”

-------

With frog legs, condensed milk, and an Eret in tow, Niki enters her apartment the following morning with new-found assurance. The rest of the evening goes about as normal as it can, with Wilbur humming nursery rhymes and stirring a pot of, quite frankly, poison. Niki and Eret hide in the living room watching all the Ghibli movies until the only light left comes from the TV in front of them. The front door opens and the floors creak as Will enters. I thought he was in his room?

Eret seems to be on the same page as her. “I didn’t hear him leave,” he says, distant fear in his eyes.

Niki’s ears pick up a faint sound. “Shh!” she hisses. “He’s on the phone.”

Though the apartment is dark (the only light being the TV), Wilbur’s eyes glow like an animal caught on camera. Niki shivers. She only barely catches a glimpse before he ducks back into the entrance hallway, but what she sees unnerves her.

“Philza, calm down,” Wilbur says from the hallway as he takes off his shoes. “It is fine, she suspects not.” 

A pause. The other person on the line, Philza, is talking. 

Wilbur replies, “She was impressed with my Ghostbusters collection, you know-- Ghostbusters is a great movie, fuck off!”

Another pause. Wilbur sighs.

“Aye, I must admit you may have been right on that one. Pretending to be human is--”

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!”

Wilbur’s head peers around the hallway’s corner in a panic to see Niki and Eret. Niki is pointing her finger at Wilbur with pride on her face, and Eret looks as though he wants to be doing the same thing.

The two in the living room both flush a bit at the outburst, but Niki doggedly continues. “You’re an alien!”

Even though Wilbur’s phone isn’t on speaker, Niki and Eret hear Philza’s laughter from all the way across the room. Wilbur sputters and angrily hangs up the phone, before turning the corner to properly face the two humans. His eyes are actually glowing, it wasn’t a trick of the light, Eret observes. Of course, he also notes that Wilbur’s eyes are the size of dinner plates, and he looks about ready to jump out the window to run from them.

“I am… not an alien,” Wilbur says softly.

“Wh-- but you just said--” Eret says, then cuts himself off when Wilbur phases through the fucking floor.

“He’s a ghost,” Niki whispers, all the pieces clicking into place. Old English, weird taste in food, Ghostbusters are you kidding me. If Niki didn’t just watch her roommate evaporate, she’d be banging her head against a wall and asking her professors to revoke her degree.

Wilbur phases back up through the floor, much closer this time but still hesitant. He sits down a few feet away from the pair of humans nervously. He’s more afraid of us than we are of him, Niki thinks. Like the bears at the zoo.

“For many years, observed the living have I,” Wilbur begins slowly. “I wished to commune with them once again, as one of their own. My father-- Philza-- said unto me that I knew nothing of the modern era. I confess that he was right. Willst you cast me out of your home, knowing now of the spectre that I am?”

Niki tries and fails to suppress the amused quirk of her eyebrow. “How about this: Eret and I show you the ropes of being alive in the 21st century, and in return, you keep the frog legs on your side of the fridge?”

Wilbur smiles that pretty smile again. “Deal.”

-------

“Niki? What is an OnlyFans?”

FIN

[nerdyfangirl67]

Driving Rain -  NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x reader

Warning: angst, hurt, language

Word count: 2025

The reader admits her feelings to Tony, who doesn’t know how to respond. She flees, driving to somewhere unknown, at least until she tells Gibbs where she is, who gives Tony a good head slap and sends him after her.

A/N: This idea came to me while listening to “Driving Rain” by Slash featuring Myles Kennedy and the Conspirators. Thus, the name of this one is Driving Rain.

Sitting at your desk, you try to find some courage for what you were about to do. With Tony being the only other person in the bullpen you had decided now was the time to tell him about your feelings for him. 

Taking a deep breath, you stand and brush the wrinkles out of your slacks. After procrastinating for a few moments, you move to the front of Tony’s desk. 

He lifts his head, his alluring green eyes catching yours. “What’s up doll?” 

You internally cringe at his nickname, one he had been calling you for years, despite your protests. “Tony. I-I don’t know how to really say this, so I’m just going to go for it.” He opens his mouth to speak but you place a gentle finger against his lips. Although your action has your heart racing and your head feeling faint, and has Tony raising his eyebrows at you, you make yourself continue. “I like you a lot, more than I like my other coworkers. Actually, I think I’m in love with you. And I have been for a while now. I just couldn’t keep it a secret anymore.” You finish your rambling and slowly remove your finger from Tony’s lips. You have to stop your brain from wandering to the many scenarios you had imagined with those lips.

Tony’s mouth falls open but nothing comes out. You wait for a few beats before begging, “Please say something.” His eyes search yours, but he still doesn’t reply. You feel fear and rejection creep up and start to choke you up.  Finally, you can’t take the quiet so you shoot out a quick “It’s fine” before grabbing your jacket and rushing for the stairs, not willing to wait for the elevator. You hear Tony call your name, but you don’t stop. 

You quickly make it to the parking lot, scrambling for your keys, and unlocking your car. The thought that you would have to face Tony again in the morning made you feel sick. A quick, impulse decision has you driving in the opposite direction of your apartment, with no destination in mind. After your phone rings twice, you shut it off, not wanting to think about the excuses Tony may have to tell you. 

After driving for a few hours, without paying attention to where you are, you decide to stop for the night. Upon entering the hotel you discover you are in Henderson, North Carolina. Knowing that you weren’t going to return to work the next day you decide to call Gibbs, rather than have him struggle to figure out how to read your text.

He picks up after the first ring. “Gibbs.”

Hearing his voice brings tears to your eyes. “It’s me. I-I-I can’t, I won’t be at work tomorrow, or for a while.”

“Y/N/N.” His gentle voice breaks you down. Gibbs had figured out almost as soon as you did that you had feelings for Tony. And he never made you talk about it. He was just a comforting presence whenever you struggled with keeping these feelings quiet.

After collecting yourself as well as you can, you say “I told him. And he didn’t say anything. So I ran. And I ended up in Henderson, North Carolina.”

A gentle hum from Gibbs prompts you to continue. “I can’t face him right now. So I’m gonna stay here for a few days.” 

Gibbs is quiet for a long time before he responds, “Take your time Y/N. Be safe and let me know where you are.” 

His caring response has you tearing up again. “Okay, thanks, Gibbs.” You say your goodbyes before hanging up. After talking to Gibbs, you curl up on the hotel bed and pull the blanket over your head.

As comforting as Gibbs could be for you, the hurt and sadness from Tony’s rejection are drowning you. And all you want to do is run. Run from the hurt and the sadness. Run from the way your feelings were choking you. Run from everything and leave it all behind.

Tony’s POV:

She ran. She ran before I could tell her how I feel and it’s my own damn fault. I couldn’t find the words to tell her and she left. 

I had come into the bullpen this morning, hoping to see her so I could tell her that I fucked up. To tell her how I really feel. I had even made reservations at one of her favorite restaurants for the evening in hopes of taking her on a date. 

She wasn’t there when I got to my desk, although Gibbs and McGee were. As the morning progressed, she still didn’t arrive. The thoughts of doubt and fear finally made me stand and walk over to Gibbs’ desk.

“Hey, Boss. Do you know where Y/N is by chance?” I ask, facing his desk.

He turns his attention to me before standing up and walking around his desk. A moment later, his hand slams into my head. Hard. 

“You bone head. She loves you. Now go get her.” He gruffs out. “She is in Henderson, North Carolina.” 

I stand there, dumbfounded. “Go Tony.” McGee pipes up behind me. 

“Okay, I’m going.” I rush towards my desk, grabbing my jacket, and swipe the keys off my desk. I ran down the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator. As I step outside, I’m greeted with pouring rain. It’s coming down so hard I can hardly see my car.

Nevertheless, I get to my car and start driving. Getting on the road, I realize that I can’t see much through the driving rain. But knowing that Y/N is out there, thinking I don’t love her keeps me driving. Knowing that when I stop driving, I’ll be able to take her in my arms and really be home has me driving faster, despite the lack of visibility. 

Your POV:

You didn’t sleep much that night and by one in the afternoon of the next day, you still hadn’t moved from the bed. Deciding that you are done feeling sorry for yourself, you trudge towards the shower. 

You turn the water on hot and spend the next twenty minutes with the water blasting over you. You had cried all your tears last night and now all you felt was numb. You were numbed by the pain and numbed by the feelings of rejection. Eventually, you shut the water off and wrap one of the small hotel towels around you. Knowing you didn’t have a change of clothes, you weren’t too excited to leave the warmth of the bathroom. 

As you enter the room, you spot a figure sitting on your bed. “What the fuck?!” You scream, retreating back to the bathroom and locking the door. A moment later a knock sounds on the door. 

“Whoever you are, I have already called the police.” You lie through your teeth. 

“Doll, it’s me.” Tony’s husky voice echoes through the door.

“Tony?” You open the door a crack and peek out. Tony is standing nervously in front of the door.

Your heart plummets and then feels like it finally restarts for the first time since you ran out of the bullpen yesterday. You almost grab him in a hug, but you remember you have nothing but a tiny hotel towel on. 

“Um…, I don’t have a change of clothes.” You mumble.

“I think I have something in my car. Let me go check.” He gently states before leaving the room. He is gone for maybe five minutes, in which you sit idly on the toilet in the bathroom, a stream of negative thoughts running endlessly through your mind. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t make yourself think about the one positive thing you had been hoping for since yesterday. If you got your hopes up, and Tony let you down, you’d be crushed all over again.

You hear the door to the hotel room shut, followed by a knock on the bathroom door. “I’ll just leave these here for you Y/N.” 

You wait a moment before opening the door.  You grab the clothes, a pair of gym shorts and a NCIS sweatshirt, and quickly get dressed. You towel dry your hair before opening the door and moving into the “bedroom”. 

Tony, having lost his jacket and shoes, was leaning against the headboard of the bed, watching the evening news. His hair was tousled and wet from the rain and you could see the five o’ clock shadow gracing his face from where you stood. All you wanted to do was curl into his side and have him wrap his arm around you.

You clear your throat, partially to get his attention but mostly to prepare yourself for what you were going to say. He powers off the TV before standing and walking towards you.

“Tony, I don’t know why you are here. I said what I needed to say.” His increasing proximity to you was making it hard to think, so you took a step back as he stopped in front of you. “And you apparently said all you needed to say as well.”

His eyes, usually so soft and playful, were hard and serious as he looked at you. His brow was furrowed and his shoulders tense. Seeing him like this made you realize how much you loved his joking, relaxed side, even when it wasn’t appropriate.

“No Y/N.” Another indication that he was serious was the lack of any of the nicknames he had concocted for you. “I need to say something now. I fucked up. I let you leave thinking your feelings were one-sided, which they aren’t.” He steps closer to you, until you are close enough to reach up and kiss him if you want, which you really did.

His breath fans across your face as you maintain eye contact with him. “Tony, what are you saying?” You want to hear him say it, not just imply it.

“Fuck, I’m in love with you Y/N. I have been since the day you walked into the bullpen and shot down my cheesy pickup line.” He pauses for a moment, but you don’t say anything. “I love the way you laugh when you think something is funny. I love how you look when you are concentrating at your desk. I love how your face lights up when Gibbs listens to you and how excited you get when you and McGee talk nerd. I love fucking everything about you. And I really fucked it up when I let you leave, but now you know how I feel.” His speech has tears springing to your eyes. You’d never realized how much he had been observing you. Frankly, you thought it was just you doing that.

You search his green eyes, softer now than they had been earlier, before you close the space between you. “Tony, I love you.” You watch as the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles before reaching up and pressing your lips to his. 

He doesn’t move his lips right away but when he does, he presses hard against your mouth. His hands are everywhere; in your hair, on your arm, at the small of your back, even on your face. 

The kiss continues until both of you pull away for air. Your heart is racing and you are gasping slightly from the kiss. You have both your arms wrapped tightly around him and one of his hands rests on your face. “Jeez, if I’d known telling you would have led to that, I would have told you a long time ago.” Tony jokes, even though there is a ring of truth to his words.

You smile, before asking him, “How’d you get into my room anyway?” 

His smile turns into a smirk as he steps out of your embrace. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black case you know all too well. “I am an NCIS agent, after all.” 

Seeing his less serious side return, your heart swells and you realize that you are finally home.

[bnhayyy]

The Call (2)

Chapter Title: Teamwork

Wordcount: 4.7k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: See end of fic.

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a conversation with Annie, and Annie has a conversation of her own.

"The slayer," Mikasa repeated, disbelief flat on her tongue. She let go of the woman’s - Annie’s - hand and took a step back. "I'm the slayer."

"I thought you might be," the woman - Annie - said. "That's why I came here. I thought-"

"No," Mikasa cut her off, already shaking her head. "There's only one slayer at a time. You're..."

A lie. An imposter. Impossible. Mikasa took another step back, forcing her feet into a more solid stance despite the fresh wave of protest from her injured ankle.

"I'm telling the truth," Annie insisted. She drummed her fingers against her stake as she spoke, as if its mere presence somehow landed her words credence. "A new slayer is called when the old one dies. Normally that would mean that there's only one at a time, but..." Her lips pressed together. Now it was her turn to look suspicious. "I suppose I'm the one who should be asking questions," she finished.

"She's right," a voice said from behind her, soft, contemplative, maybe even a touch mournful.

She didn't need him to remind her of that. The thought was already dancing around within her, forming a lump in her throat and clawing at the backs of her eyes. Nonetheless, Eren whispered, "you died, Mikasa. Remember?"

Of course she did. The memory had been lapping at her heels for the past several days, relentlessly haunting her in those few moments that she laid down to sleep. It had been easy to brush it off as a combination of guilt and exhaustion. Now, however... Erwin had told her that slayer's dreams tended to be more meaningful than most. She had assumed that it didn't apply to memories, but as she stared Annie down, she wondered if she might have been drowning in her dreams for a reason.

Assuming that Annie was telling the truth.

"Who's your watcher?" Mikasa asked, not daring to drop from her stance or come any closer.

Annie blinked. "Watcher?"

"From the watcher's council," Mikasa pressed.

"Oh." Annie frowned. "I didn't... know that was a thing."

Mikasa pursed her lips. In theory, that probably shouldn't have boded well, but... Erwin had found her less than three months ago, even though she had been called years before that. Everything she knew about being the slayer prior to his arrival had been cobbled together from encounters with various demons after she was called. That much, there had been no denying.

The council was supposed to guide the slayer and help combat against the forces of darkness, but they had already failed once. What were the odds that the council would have found a second slayer when they had no idea that they were even looking for one? 

Had the council really been so incompetent that they left her to go through the same thing as her?

Mikasa's expression remained guarded and unreadable as she continued. Meanwhile, Annie was visibly trying to do the same, but she couldn't quite hide the whisper of anxiety making its way against her expression. Eventually, she broke and asked, "will your watcher help treat your injuries?"

He would if she went to him.

She didn't want to. That wasn't Annie's business though.

"Does it matter?" Mikasa asked. As she spoke, she went to shift her stance a little, her muscles growing stiff from being trapped in the same position for so long. That was a mistake. She was hit by a fresh wave of dizziness from her head and discomfort from her ankle, causing her to stumble a few centimeters. It was a very slight misstep, but Annie caught it, her lips dropping into a slight frown.

"You're dead meat out here in this state," Annie said. "If they won't, then let me help you."

Mikasa stiffened. She turned her head, almost imperceptibly - just enough to catch a glimpse of Eren lurking a few paces behind her. He hadn't been there to watch the vampire go for her, but he was here now. Did that mean that some part of her sensed that she was out of danger? Or had he showed up because the real threat had only just arrived? Even if she was a slayer, it didn't mean that she was to be trusted. It didn't mean-

"I don't know what you should do," Eren confessed, stepping forward and looking Mikasa in the eyes. The eye-contact was brief and promptly broken off by Mikasa. As she shifted her gaze back to Annie, she thought her peripheral vision caught the whisper of some expression flickering across his face. He continued on in spite of it. "But if she planned on hurting you, I think-"

He went silent as Annie spoke, seemingly finishing his line for him. "If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it already." She paused, gaze intensifying as she looked Mikasa up and down. "I wouldn't have had to do anything. You've already taken care of that by going out in your state."

Mikasa bristled. She knew that Annie was right, painful to accept though it may be. That wasn't the thing that pushed against her nerves. It was that this woman - her apparent savior - felt the need to go ahead and point that out.

"So why did you?" Mikasa asked, voice short and clipped. "Why are you here?"

Annie answered immediately, her voice earnest despite the hint of discomfort. "Because we're both slayers," she said. "The only ones in the world, presumably." She gave a bitter smile and held her hands up placatingly, one thumb pressed down to keep her stake held in place. "I'm not saying we need to be friends, but our lives will probably be a whole lot easier if we help each other out."

It made sense. If there truly were two slayers, then in theory, they could bear to lighten their loads by half. Or do a whole lot more. But that would require both of those slayers staying alive. It made sense, and yet, Mikasa hesitated.

To her credit, Annie caught on quickly. She lowered her hands with a heavy sigh. "I'll answer any questions you have at my place," she said. "But not here, with you half dead."

Mikasa gritted her jaw.

At the edge of the vision, she saw Eren step up to stand beside her. "Mikasa, I know you're strong, but you're not invincible," he said. "You need help."

I know, she didn't say, even though she knew that she did, at least for tonight.

Instead, she unclenched her jaw, took a deep breath, and said, "fine."

***

The journey to Annie's house was silent. She didn't offer to help Mikasa walk, for which she was glad. It was already bad enough that she had noticeably slowed her pace to accommodate her limping.

"We're here," Annie murmured, coming to a halt in front of an unobtrusive little house placed on a street corner. A street corner that was only two blocks away from the cemetery. Mikasa frowned, unable to decide if the location was smart for its convenience or foolish for its risk. The frown deepened when, after a short walk up to the patio, Annie opened the door quickly and easily.

"You don't lock your door?" Mikasa questioned.

Annie shrugged. "No need."

Mikasa pursed her lips. Potential reasons for Annie's viewpoint flew through her head; she'd certainly considered them herself a few times. A slayer should be able to deal with any intruder. The odds of a home invasion were unlikely. If some thing truly wanted to get in, a mere lock wouldn't be enough to stop it. She had considered them many a time, wondered if she was just being paranoid.

Those considerations never changed her actions. She still kept her door locked, regardless of whether she was home or not. Even if it didn't stop whatever was trying to get in, it could slow them down. That was important. It was important to remember that every moment counted. It was important to remember that slayers were strong, but they weren't infallible, and with that strength came a target painted on their back.

It wasn't even just slayers. Normal people could stand to be a little safer too. Home invasions were rare in Paradis, but they did happen.

Not that Annie seemed to care.

She strode through the entryway, either unaware of Mikasa's displeasure or simply failing to care. As Mikasa bristled, the phantom that had followed them all of the way there stepped in ahead of her. "Give her a chance," Eren urged. "You haven't really met her yet."

What I've seen so far doesn't seem worth knowing, Mikasa thought. Nonetheless, she moved to follow Annie into the house, hesitating for a moment at the doorway, then walking right through Eren when he didn't get out of the way quickly enough.

It would probably be easier if she just let it slide. And yet...

"You should sti-" Mikasa's words evaporated as she followed Annie into the kitchen. There was a person in there. A tall man about their age, sitting slumped over at the island, reading a book. He looked comfortable. Not an intruder, no, he looked like-

The stranger looked up. "Annie," he called, eyes glittering with excitement that turned into concern as he noticed Mikasa. They met eyes, and Mikasa's confusion deepened. She'd seen this guy around before. Only a few times, and only at night. Quite frankly, she'd entertained the thought that he was a vampire last time she saw him. His general nervous and soft-spoken demeanor was what had made her second-guess her assessment. A good thing, she supposed, because that was looking very much impossible now. Assuming that she was right, assuming he actually-

The stranger turned his gaze back to Annie. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Bertolt, get the first aid kit," she said, a hint of a sigh in her voice.

The man - Bertolt - stood up with a nod and scurried out of the kitchen. Annie walked over to the island and set down her stake. Eren wandered over to lean against the stove, idly taking in his surroundings. Meanwhile, Mikasa just stood there and stared. This woman claimed to be a slayer, and yet...

"You live with someone?" Mikasa demanded, her voice suddenly returning to her.

"Of course," Annie said. "I couldn't afford to pay the rent myself."

"And does he-"

"-Know?" Annie interrupted. "Of course." She leaned against the island and crossed her arms, preemptively daring Mikasa to challenge her. "Bertolt and Reiner have been with me since I first got my powers."

Mikasa gaped. Meanwhile, Annie stared, not quite judgemental, but certainly assessing.

"Is your watcher the only one that knows about you?" Annie asked.

"No," Mikasa admitted. "But there were mitigating circumstances."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that there weren't with me?"

Mikasa pursed her lips. "That's not the point," she said. The point was that she avoided living with anyone, even though it meant that she couldn't afford more than a tiny apartment. The point was that she took measures to make sure that no one was truly dragged into her world. The point was that she didn't dare let Armin close enough to truly consider him her friend - or for the rest of the world to notice. "What you're doing is dangerous."

"And striking off on your own isn't?" Annie countered. As she spoke, Bertolt returned, carefully placing the first aid kit on the island and nervously glancing between them. Annie didn't so much as pause. "There are benefits to having a team."

"Do they help you?" Mikasa asked. The idea was preposterous. Annie might have been a slayer, but her roommates certainly weren't. The very demons that she could go toe-to-toe with would turn them into mincemeat. "You're putting their lives at risk."

"Maybe sometimes," Bertolt piped up. He had migrated over to a corner and was leaning against a wall of cupboards, fidgeting awkwardly. "But she's also saved our lives plenty of times too. Maybe we can only help her a little, but that's still something. And, well, I'd rather know the truth and be able to do something about it." He paused, and something in his gaze seemed to harden. "Especially since if anything happens to her, it means that everyone will be a lot less safe."

"They have a point," Eren mused.

They might have. Mikasa's head was reeling too much to really think about it right now. She thought it was because of what they were saying, but judging from the myriad of concerned and alarmed looks she received in that instant, she supposed it may have been the head wound.

"Come here," Annie said, reaching for the first aid kit.

With a small sigh, Mikasa obliged.

Once she was within reach, Annie took Mikasa and guided her onto one of the stools surrounding the island. Her touch was gentle yet firm.

Mikasa watched out of the corner of her eye as Annie opened the first aid kit and opened a packet of antiseptic wipes. She was prepared for it, yet couldn't quite refrain from wincing when Annie took one of the wipes and carefully dabbed at her head wound. The blonde didn't apologize, but she did pause for a second before slowing down in her ministrations. Before long, the first wipe was bogged down with blood and she had to reach for another.

They sat in silence this way for several minutes, Annie tending to Mikasa's wound while Bertolt and Eren stood by, human and illusion both equally unobtrusive. It was shattered by Annie saying, "the person that knows about you. It's Armin, right?"

Mikasa went stiff as a board, the distrust and alarm bells that had begun to fade from her mind making a striking return. Annie noticed and took a cautious step back, which Mikasa took as an opportunity to give her a long look, searching for any sign of deceit. She hadn't mentioned Armin to Annie. She had been very careful not to mention Armin to her, not to anyone. How could she-

"Armin mentioned her earlier," Eren remarked.

At the same time, Annie said, "Armin and I study together. He's mentioned you a few times, and you don't seem like the type to have many friends. That's all."

"Oh." Slowly, the alarms in Mikasa's head began to fade. The surprise meant that they lingered to some degree, but now that she'd been reminded, she recalled that Armin had mentioned an Annie. It added up in that sense. Annie's own conclusion, while a little insulting, was also accurate. Mostly. "He's not a friend," Mikasa murmured, allowing her gaze to drift down toward the floor.

"Right," Annie said, the corner of her lips twitching upward. "Too dangerous."

Mikasa sighed. "Are we done here, or..."

That got Annie and Bertolt to pipe up at the same time. The latter started to say, "you're still really-" only to cut himself off when he realized that Annie was also speaking.

For her part, Annie sighed and allowed her gaze to drift upwards for a moment. It wasn't quite an eye roll, but Mikasa got the distinct sense that she was tempted. "No," she said. "Not yet."

With that, they lapsed into the same silence as before; at least for a little while. As Annie was setting aside the final wipe and reaching for a tube of antiseptic ointment, the room was shaken by the distinct sound of a door opening. Mikasa's attention snapped to the entryway, and within a way moments, a large blond man walked by

"Reiner," Eren murmured in the same instant that the newcomer paused and peered into the kitchen. His eyes met Mikasa's, and for the third time that night, she found herself surprised by a familiar face. He was the guy from her trigonometry class, the one who sat next to Annie and liked to pester her.

She supposed it made sense. Annie didn't seem like someone with a bunch of friends either.

The newcomer - Reiner, if Eren was to be trusted - took a step further into the entryway. Eyes still trained on Mikasa, he said, "you're-"

"Yes," Annie interrupted. Now that Reiner had shown himself, she seemed content to return her attention to what she was doing. She didn't even bother looking up from the bottle of ointment she was opening as she spoke.

Reiner nodded slowly. "Right. And she's-"

"Yes." Annie squeezed some of the antiseptic onto her fingertips and carefully dabbed it onto Mikasa's wound.

This new distraction made it easier for Mikasa to avoid wincing this time. "They know about me as well?" she demanded.

"Of course," Annie said, voice flat. "We help each other."

Mikasa frowned, but didn't press the subject. If Annie was completely sold on involving her cohorts, fine. There was a more important question at hand, a question that she'd let wait for too long. "How did you find out about me?"

"Demons talk," Annie said. "I got a lot of comments about how I'm impossible and the slayer is supposed to be in Paradis." She closed the tube of antiseptic, set it back in the first aid kit, and began rummaging for the bandages.

"This is impossible," Reiner said. He walked over to lean against the counter beside the oven - inadvertently taking a place beside Eren, who was eyeing him contemplatively. "Everything we found about slayers said there's only supposed to be one at once." He frowned and crossed his arms. "Granted, it wasn't much," he conceded, "but it all said that a new slayer is only called when the old one dies."

"I died," Mikasa said, voice empty, refusing to let herself feel what she was saying. There was no avoiding this. At least she could get it over with sooner rather than later. "The EMTs revived me. But for a few minutes, I was dead."

Reiner's frown deepened. He looked for all the world like he wanted to say something else, but Annie shot him a look, and the expression fell away. He sighed, and a sympathetic one took its place. "I'm sorry you went through that," he said.

"Thanks," Mikasa murmured.

"Well," Bertolt interjected, the anxiety clear in his voice, "it's good that you know about each other now, at least. Maybe you can work together?"

He was right. Mikasa knew he was right. Two slayers had to be better than one, and the logical thing would be for them to help each other. However, the thought of committing to working with this woman she'd just met still made her pause.

Thankfully, Annie spoke up before she had to. "Don't make any assumptions," she warned Bertolt. Even so, as she turned back around to face Mikasa, bandage in hand, she gave her a brief, hopeful look; a reminder of her earlier offer.

Mikasa sighed. "I'll think about it," she said.

"That's all we can ask," Bertolt said.

Annie didn't comment. She opened up the package of the large bandage she was holding and brushed Mikasa's hair out of the way before gingerly pressing its edges down around the cut on her temple. This, she noticed, was less uncomfortable than cleaning her wound or applying the ointment. It was almost soothing.

With her head wound taken care of, Annie returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of beige adhesive gauze wrap. Mikasa took the cue to extend her injured leg. Annie crouched down before her and deftly removed her shoe. Mikasa frowned, but didn't comment, a little embarrassed that she hadn't thought to do it herself.

Compared to the near-hesitancy with which she'd dressed the wound on her head, Annie was surprisingly quick and effective at wrapping her ankle. "You're good at this," Mikasa remarked.

Reiner laughed. "She should be! Annie hurt herself all the time as a kid."

"Reiner," Annie warned, standing up and shooting him with a flat look.

This time, her attempt at intimidation didn't have much effect. "It's true."

Annie frowned, Reiner's grin widened, and Mikasa couldn't help but stare. It was odd seeing a slayer interact with someone like this. Someone she had a personal history with, someone she was friends with. It was dangerously tantalizing for all that it was foreign.

Mikasa pulled her gaze away. "I should get going," she said.

"Are you sure?" Bertolt asked, shooting a glance at her ankle. "Annie or I could drive you."

"I only live a few blocks away," Mikasa said. She was aware that it wasn't entirely true, that the distance was probably closer to a mile and a half from this distance, but she wasn't about to say that. "It's been long enough that I should be able to walk that far." This much was true. The walk would agitate her ankle a bit, sure, but the wrap would minimize additional damage, and what she incurred would likely heal while she slept.

Annie looked hesitant, but eventually nodded.

Taking that as her cue to go ahead and leave, Mikasa stood up and took a few steps, then paused just as she was about to leave the kitchen. It took a few seconds to get the words out, but she eventually managed, "thank you. I'll see you later."

She left before any of them could respond.

***

The household was quiet for several minutes after Mikasa's departure. They all lingered in the kitchen, staring at the doorway, as if the slayer might pop back up at any second.

Finally, Reiner tilted his head back and sighed. "She's gone." He shifted to peer at Bertolt, then Annie, the unspoken 'we can speak' in his gaze.

Annie frowned. "Are you so confident that your hearing is better than a slayer's stealth?" she asked.

"I'm confident that she doesn't seem like the type to stick around and eavesdrop," he said.

"She seemed... sincere," Bertolt said. Annie almost wanted to snort upon hearing it. The impulse faded completely with his next words. "It kinda sucks that we have to..."

"Kill her?" Reiner interjected.

Unlike Bertolt, Annie managed to refrain from frowning. Even so, Reiner gave both of them a long look before pointing out, "that's the job." His voice was light and cheerful, carrying all of the ease that she and Bertolt lacked, like he was talking about getting groceries rather than killing a slayer. It crawled under her skin and made her want to try and claw it out.

That wouldn't do anything. Instead, she went for the itch that she actually had reason to scratch.

"A job that you're making harder," Annie snapped. She stood up a little straighter and walked over to stand in front of Reiner. "You didn't need to kill Mina."

"I was hungry. I weighed down her body and dropped it in the rider, so it's not like we'll get any trouble from it," Reiner defended. "Besides..." He paused, his eyes meeting Annie's. The casual air he had been maintaining dropped into something far more grave and serious. "You seemed like you were getting attached."

Annie bristled. In that second, she was tempted to call Reiner out for hypocrisy. He was ten times more social than she was; if anyone might endanger the mission through attachments, it was probably him. The trouble was that it wouldn't work, because it wasn't true. Reiner was a soulless bastard who could probably turn on his so-called friends at the drop of a penny without any trouble at all.

Then again, maybe it was unfair of her to blame his behavior on his lack of a soul. Bertolt didn't have a soul either; no vampire did. Bertolt didn't put on the same friendly act as Reiner, but he still managed to be less impulsive and cruel at the end of the day.

Maybe Reiner was just an overconfident, hypocritical jackass by nature.

There was no point in calling out Reiner's hypocrisy, so Annie settled for glaring at him and saying, "I've told you plenty of times that I don't care about anyone here that much."

"I'm just being careful."

"No, you're making excuses to be greedy."

Bertolt stepped out of his corner, a flicker of worry on his face. "Guys, do we have to fight about this?" he asked.

Annie gave him a long, tired look, which quickly turned into one of agitation when Reiner held his hands up and said, "hey, I'm not the one who's fighting."

"I'm not fighting," Annie ground out, slowly turning her gaze back to Reiner. "I'm saying that you're being stupid. You want to hunt on campus? Fine. But if you keep killing people we interact with, people will get suspicious no matter how much time you spend in the sunlight."

"She's right," Bertolt tentatively interjected. Reiner shot him a frown, and he quickly amended, "I'm not saying that you're stupid. But we can't afford to take too many risks." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm already worried about how we're going to hide my nature from the slayer. Maybe we should have come up with some sort of story."

"Like what?" Annie asked.

"Maybe we could say that I was cursed with a soul or something?" Bertolt mused.

Reiner laughed. "A vampire with a soul? How lame is that."

"It's happened before," Bertolt protested. "Although, I'm not sure if I'd be able to pull it off. It's supposed to be pretty emotionally devastating..."

"It's still ridiculous." Reiner shook his head, then waved his hand - and the ring that adorned it. "If it comes down to it, I'll just let you borrow the gem. Make sure that she sees you in the sunlight a few times and you're set."

"You're lucky to have that thing," Annie grumbled.

"I am," Reiner acknowledged. He stood up a little straighter and gave her and Bertolt a serious look, clearly trying to play the role of inspiring leader. Fun. "But we're going to need more than luck to pull this off. We need the slayer to trust us, and I doubt she's going to make that easy."

"I think we're off to a good start," Bertolt said. "She seems pretty isolated, but Annie did a good job trying to convince her she'd be better off with a team."

Annie frowned, but didn't bother pointing out that Bertolt had done most of the work. Meanwhile, Reiner blinked in surprise.

"Annie? Talking up teamwork?" He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "I'd pay to see that."

"Then pay," Annie said. "What I want to know is why we didn't just take her by surprise. I could have taken her out tonight if we did that."

Oh, Annie knew fully well what Reiner's convoluted logic was. They had been over this several times before. That didn't mean she didn't see the benefit in making him run through it again, just on the off chance that he might change his mind about this whole charade. She couldn't say that she felt very bad about inconveniencing him with it either.

Alas, Reiner didn't seem particularly perturbed to repeat himself for what had to be the seventh time. If anything, he looked a little smug to hear his plan out loud once more.

"Slayers know to expect attacks from strangers," Reiner said. "Unless we're able to kill her immediately, the element of surprise wears off after the first attack. But if she trusts us first? Even if she survives the initial assault, that will slow her down for a while.

"Bertolt, you're right in that you'll need to be cautious. You can help when you get the opportunity, but until it's time to act, Annie and I will need to do most the of work. As long as she doesn't find out about the Gem of Amara, I can keep her from finding out that I'm a vampire; she'll have no reason not to trust me. And Annie. Even with the state she was in, she might have escaped if you tried to take her out tonight. But if you're able to get close to her first?" Something akin to appreciation flickered in Reiner's eyes as he paused, mingling with the excitement that was oozing off of him. She ignored how it made her stomach twinge. "You're a slayer. She won't stand a chance."

Annie allowed herself to think of the strong, cold, sad woman she met today. Of how she had seemed so convinced that she had to be alone, of the flicker of hope that had shown through the distrust.

"You're right," Annie admitted. "She won't."

*****

End Notes: Alright, so. Pre-emptively, I know that Reiner is pretty OOC in this chapter. He's my favorite character in the series, so believe me, I am Aware. They are in-story reasons for this, some of which are tied to Buffyverse vampire lore and some of which will be unveiled as the story progresses. Hopefully, the payoff will be worth it in the end, but for now, all I can do is ask you to trust me when I say that I have plans.

For now though, hold on tight. Erwin gets properly introduced to the story next chapter, as well as a few other characters.

[gallavictorious]

Do you think Mickey feels he got closure with terry?

Short answer and based on what we’ve seen so far: not really, no. Or rather: not yet.

Long (and I do mean really quite long) answer below.

Admittedly, writing on this topic now, before we’ve seen how Mickey deals with the aftermath of Terry’s death in the next episode, strikes me as a bit of a fool’s errand, because what we get on Sunday will (probably, hopefully) offer us more insight into how he feels about his dad and their relationship now. But I am fascinated with the subject, so I’m going to go ahead and indulge in rambling, though with the proviso that everything below is a tentative analysis that might well need to be revised once 11x09 has aired. As always, I’m glad of other people’s input, because I suspect I’m nowhere near done forming my opinion on this.

Before we start, I’d like to note that this post solely and specifically addresses how Mickey reacts to his dad and trauma on the show; it’s not a statement on how actual live trauma victims should or should not relate to their abusers. That really, really isn’t for me to say. Okay?

All right, then. Let’s get to it:

Following 10x12 I thought that Mickey was pretty much done with Terry; as far as he was concerned, that bridge was burned once Terry burned down The Bamboo Lotus, and even though they must have reached some sort of unspoken cold war type of truce (ie not actively trying to kill one another) Mickey seemed content to ignore his dad. No more asking for advice; no more helping out with various “jobs”; no more attempts at some semblance of a relationship, be it a cordial one or a murderous one. What we got in 11x06 didn’t really change that: seeing Terry thus weakened understandably stirred a lot of emotion in Mickey but both his choice not to kill his dad and his choice to eventually help him have arguably less to do with Terry or Mickey’s relationship to him, and more to do with what sort of person Mickey wants to be. At that point, he chooses to be a man stepping away from his father’s hateful legacy, wanting to be better than that. (And by God, Mickey dearest, you are so much better than that.) And that could have been the end of it, you know? That could have been closure of a sort – not in the sense that it in any way healed the wounds of the past, but in the sense that it signified Mickey finding a way to live with the hurt that allows him to move forward.

Now, we knew (from the episode descriptions) this wasn’t the end of their story, but I was still surprised by Mickey’s overt preoccupation with Terry in 11x08. This isn’t just someone doing the (more than) decent thing to be a decent person, this is genuine concern for Terry’s welfare – and while part of it might be tied to the ingrained idea that “family is family” and while Mickey is still very much aware of the fact that Terry is an utter piece of shit, it’s very hard not to read this as Mickey – once more, and probably without fully acknowledging it– being driven by a latent wish for his father’s approval, that need for connection. (As I’ve argued before, I think that’s why Ian’s not necessarily very enthusiastic about Mickey’s dedication, even though he thinks everyone should receive aid and even though he probably is quite taken with Mickey being so caring.)

But while I didn’t really see it coming, I do like it. I get why you’d rather have him finally and vocally and possibly violently denounce his dad; it’d be cathartic, surely, for a lot of people to see that. But to me, what we get feels truer to the complex push and pull of their fractured bond and is quite frankly more interesting to me because it is messy and complicated and unfinished. Terry is a nightmare; he’s still Mickey’s dad; the relationship between an abusive parent and a child is often highly complex, and I think the show has done a consistently good job of showing that. 11x08 is no exception. You might think Mickey should tell his dad to fuck of once and for all because Terry doesn’t deserve Mickey’s time or devotion (I mean, he really doesn’t), but I find it highly realistic that Mickey would opt for this instead now that it’s a possibility. (It’s relevant to note, I think, that Mickey only allows himself to approach Terry again when Terry is helpless and not in a position to actually harm him; Mickey’s ultimately in control here, and I think that’s very important.)

So yeah, I think Mickey is searching for something from his dad still, but I don’t think he quite gets it. Can’t get it, really.

See, I believe that Terry, to some small degree at least, regrets not having a better relationship with Mickey: that’s how I read “you’d probably have made a half-decent son”. However, his regret isn’t tied to any notions of “I wish I’d been better and given another chance I’d try to do things differently” but instead an expression of “yeah, it suck’s that you’re gay so I had to hate you”. It’s not an acceptance of responsibility or even a vague hint of being willing to change or to accept Mickey for who he is, and because of that – because Terry is not willing or able to change and because Mickey will no longer accept anything less – Mickey’s potential but unvoiced dreams of reconciliation cannot be fulfilled. (And let’s be clear: even if Terry did repent and changed and made what amends he could that doesn’t undo or make up for the damage he has done and Mickey has zero obligation to forgive him or spend even another second in his company.)

So it’s not enough – what could be? – but it is something. A grudging acknowledgment of Mickey’s good qualities, an admission that he is desirable as a son – or would be, if it weren’t for that one thing. :/ It’s recognition and rejection all wrapped into one, and I really like Mickey’s response: he makes it clear that he knows that he’s not the problem here and that he’s fully aware of what an evil bastard Terry is but that he still chooses to be there; chooses to feed Terry and find him a nurse, rather than scoop his eyeballs out or piss on him or use his mouth for a fucking ashtray.

It reminds me of a passage from the Swedish novel Beartown by Fredrik Backman: “She will hold all the power in that moment, but she will spare him. She doesn’t forgive, she doesn’t pardon, she merely spares him. He will always know it.” (2017[2016]:466, my translation.)

It’s remarkable too, I find, that Mickey doesn’t try to hide his hurt here: he allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his father see the pain he has caused. And Terry doesn’t pounce on it; he doesn’t scorn Mickey’s “weakness” or argue with his denunciation; he accepts the judgement and opens his mouth to accept the food without further protest, accepting – in that moment, at least – what Mickey chooses to give him. He concedes his loss of power and his dependance on the son he tortured and disowned. (But it’s not like he gives fully either – there’s no apology, no thanks, no actually asking for help: he just opens his mouth. It’s a lot for Terry, and I think we can acknowledge that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is an utter and total asshole – and I’m glad that the show didn’t have him do more, because that would have felt… unlikely to me.)

It’s such a small thing, and so far less than what Mickey deserves, but probably more than he expected at this point. In time I think it will be helpful to him, to have gotten even this much, but at the time of Terry’s death I’d argue that it adds to rather than lessens Mickey’s burden. Because it’s possible that this could serve as a bookend to their relationship: not a reconciliation but as much of peace as they’ll ever know – eyes lifted to momentarily meet across the abyss in one brief instance of seeing, and being seen by, one another. But going only by what we get in 11x08 I don’t think that this is quite it, and rather than Mickey (in the moment) taking this as the final word or where they stand I think that he – in spite of everything Terry has done – can’t help but think of this exchange as an opening, the potential start of something. Not sure it’s a conscious thing, or how comfortable he is with this notion, because of course he is still very angry with and hates his dad, but consider the way he keeps looking at his phone and insisting they check back in with the nurse: that’s not the actions of someone who has laid things to rest and let it go, that’s Mickey doubling down on being a concerned son and… Yeah. As things stand, I tend to think that he was hoping against hope that maybe, possibly–

And then Terry is dead and Mickey is left with all of his conflicting emotions and nothing to do with them. It’d have been easier, probably, if it hadn’t been for that tiny, tiny softening; that small flare of hope I think Mickey might be quite angry with himself for feeling, if he admits to feeling it at all. It’d be easier if he could just hate Terry, you know?

Now, we don’t know what Mickey would have done if Terry (and that’s a big fucking if) had ever indicated any actual regret. But whether Mickey would have wanted that opportunity to rekindle a relationship with his father or if he’d have used to spit in Terry’s face and spend five hours telling him why Mickey would never forgive him and felt nothing but hatred and revulsion for him, that choice was forever and finally taken from him.

However, I don’t think this means that Mickey won’t find closure; I believe he will, and I think – hope – that we’ll get to see some of that in the next episode. Because the thing about Terry not being willing or able to change means that he would never have been able to give Mickey what he truly needed anyway (and as mentioned, even if he did change there’s no undoing his crimes). It was always going to come down to Mickey finding a way to live with the scars; finding a way to make some sort of peace with the past (which doesn’t have to include making peace with Terry at all) and to let it be the past. He doesn’t strictly speaking need Terry for that and given what an asshole Terry is, maybe it’s actually easier to manage it when he’s not around to fuck it up.

So yeah. It’s not likely to be sweet or neat or even very conclusive – these things rarely are and recovery is a process – but I think that Mickey will get some closure one way or another, and I believe that in the end he’ll be glad for the tiny moment they shared just before Terry’s death, even if it’s a complicating factor now.

(It should also be noted that Terry isn’t horrible just as an evil response to Mickey being gay; he was plenty horrible to him and the rest of his kids outside of that too. Consider Mickey listing the awful things Terry did when Mickey was just a kid; consider Mandy telling Debbie in season 5 that she learned how to cover up a bruise form living with Terry. The attempted murder(s) and corrective rape and disowning Mickey was a result of Terry’s virulent homophobia, but he was an awful father long before he knew Mickey was gay. So even without the homophobia, there’d be a hell of a lot to hate him for.)

There’s certainly more to say on this topic, and I think that we’ll have reason to return to it come Sunday - but for now, that’s most of my thoughts, I think.

[ratedbangtann]

𝐅𝐚𝐭 𝐁𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 | 𝙅𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙠𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙭 𝙋𝙡𝙪𝙨 𝙎𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 

"𝙵𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗' 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚘 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍..."                                 

Pairing: Jungkook/Plus Size Reader Word count: 8.1k Warnings: size kink, body worship, spanking, switch!jk, oral sex (f), finger fucking, squirting, multiple orgasms, creampie

a/n: any and all teasing directed at Jungkook in this fic is merely friendly banter. i DO NOT believe any of the boys have a problem with plus size girls, and they do not in this fic either. any teasing is simply banter directed at Jungkook to make him shy and blush. they would tease him just the same if he had a thing for girls with piercings etc. 

in no way are any of the comments made meant to hurt or offend anyone. this fic was written in the hope that it would boost some people’s confidence and be inclusive of larger framed girls (like myself!)

                              "Seriously, you want to watch this again?" Hoseok pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as Jungkook excitedly presses play on the remote, sitting back down on the couch between Yoongi and Jimin with his bowl of mixed candies.

"You're obsessed," Yoongi states with a monotonous groan.

"It's a good movie though, Jin hyung; back me up!" Jungkook tries to gather support from his hyung. Luckily, Jin was also a fan. In fact, it was he who insisted the group watch it to begin with.

"I'm with you, Jimin. I love it. Remember when we played Wembley in July? I had to do Freddie's thing!" Jin slaps his knee as he laughs at himself, the others smiling and shaking their heads at their elder.

Yes, the boys had been coerced into watching Jungkook's favourite movie, Bohemian Rhapsody, for the nth time. He was mesmerised by Queen, completely in awe of Freddie's stage presence and his ability to control a crowd, but also by the way he had dealt with all his demons and never showed it professionally. He often repeated the show must go on in his head in times of stress or hardship.

Scene after scene played out on the screen, song after song that Jungkook sang along to, word for English word. He knew them all; he'd listened to them enough. He understood now how international army had the patience to learn their lyrics when they didn't speak Korean; when you love something enough, you'll find the patience it takes.

And while the others had protested originally at the thought of watching this damn movie again, by the end, they were all feeling that same inspiring emotion elicited by watching Freddie prancing around at Live Aid, knowing full well he was dying. Both Jin and Jimin had joined Jungkook in wiping away tears before they had fallen, whilst Taehyung hadn't bothered to hide them. The poor boy was sobbing as he clutched onto Namjoon's arm.

"I never get tired of this, damn," Jungkook smiled.

"What's your favourite song then, Kookie?" Jin asked. Jungkook thought for a moment, musing over the various tracks he knew and loved so well, until he settled on one.

He wasn't sure he should tell the truth, it'd be easier to say it was Bohemian Rhapsody or Another One Bites The Dust, because he knew he'd be made fun of for his real favourite. The song that hypnotised him into lewd imagery in his head that he so badly wished he could experience. The song that, quite frankly, played up to one of his biggest fantasies.

"Fat Bottomed Girls," he had said timidly, avoiding eye contact from his hyungs for fear of their reaction.

Hoseok broke the silence that followed, unable to contain his giggles. Damnit, Jungkook thought, I knew I should have lied...

Namjoon nodded in understanding, smirking to himself at the admission. Tae barely paid attention, still trying to calm himself. Bless him, he never could get a hold of himself once he started to cry... Yoongi barely reacted, a simple "hmm," escaping.

"It's a damn good song," Jimin agreed, slow clapping with approval.

"It is, a big butt is appreciated in this christian household," Jin laughed, but he meant what he said sincerely. He loved a large, perky butt.

Jungkook however, loved a little more than that...

"Aw Kookie, you're blushing. Someone's got a thing for a big girl, huh?" Hoseok continued to laugh, never meaning any harm of course but teasing the younger like he would a little brother.

It was true though, Jungkook loved big girls. He was hypnotised by them; just how their bodies moved, the little jiggle of their curves with every step... He dared to imagine how a big girl would feel under his touch; the squish of her flesh, able to grab handfuls of her as he worships her from head to toe. The ripple of flesh as he'd spank her bare behind, fucking into her from behind... The after-sex cuddles, nuzzling into her soft, warm flesh so comfortably. God, he loved the thought.

The boys teased Jungkook mercilessly after that evening; even when he had thought they may have forgotten about it. Nothing would be mentioned for a few weeks, until a larger girl was walking past their table in a restaurant, or a big girl appeared on their television; it gave each member ammo to tease poor Kookie until he was a brilliant shade of beetroot.

His hyungs never meant to upset him, and they certainly had nothing against anybody who was plus sized, nor did they ever mock anyone for their weight. They knew, of course, that beauty goes much deeper; but it was so fun to watch Jungkook blush.

Weeks passed since his half-admission, and Jungkook still adored the song that triggered his fantasies. Every time it came on shuffle, his mind was filled with images of beautiful big girls, dancing to it in a bar with their friends, singing to it at karaoke, humming it whilst cooking breakfast for the him after a long, hot steamy night, moaning out sinful expletives to it as it played as he ravaged them...  

"JUNGKOOK!" Namjoon banged on his bedroom door, scaring the shit out of him as he lay on his bed, palming himself through his sweats to the song and his imagination. "Stop jacking off to the Michelin man and get out here." Shit.

Jungkook paused the music on his stereo and waited a moment in order to conceal the very obvious hard on he had given himself with his own imagination, and made his way out to the living room, dragging his feet in a sulk.

"What?" he grunted.

"Pleasant greeting, especially seeing as we're about to give you your birthday present," Jin scoffed, an envelope in his hand.

"S-sorry... Birthday present? It's not for a week?" he rubbed the back of his neck, confused and still slightly groggy from his earlier states of consumed lust.

"Yeah but, we need to give it to you now..." Jin held the envelope out in front of him, and the younger gladly took it, opening at as the rest of the boys looked on in anticipation for his reaction.

"No way..." his eyes widened, reading over the words on the page over and over. "London?! We're going to LONDON?!"

"Yeah, all of us. We've never really done any real touristy things there, and well, seeing as you're totally obsessed with Queen we thought you might like to spend some time where they came from? Visit some of their history, if you will?" Namjoon smiled, giddy with glee at the younger's happiness.

"I'd love to, yeah. Whoa... London," his eyes gleamed with joy as he continued to stare at the plane tickets in hand. "We leave tomorrow? Jesus it's so sudden."

"Yeah, so you should get packing. Two weeks, Kookie, Pack for two weeks," Tae shooed him back into his room. Jungkook went to turn, but decided to run at the group and pull them all into a ridiculous and awkward seven-way hug.

"This is awesome, thank you so much."

The brothers loved seeing him so excited, each wishing him an early happy birthday and patting him on the back or ruffling his hair.

And then Jungkook scurried back off to his room to find an empty suitcase and stuff it in the most chaotic organised mess known to man.

***

Jungkook spent days dragging the boys through London to different spots of significance to queen's legacy, giddily jumping from target to target. Along the way, they hit up bars, a couple of typical tourist spots, but the majority of the time was spent doing what Jungkook wanted; this was his birthday trip, after all.

But today, was Jungkook's birthday. And the boys had something... planned.

9pm rolled around, and the boys had eaten and gone back to their hotel rooms, telling Jungkook to dress up relatively smart ready for a night out.

Where, he had no idea. But he trusted his brothers, and knew whatever it was would be fun.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror in the ensuite of his room, Jungkook was pleased with his outfit. His black jeans clung to his muscled thighs, the maroon silk shirt he was wearing tucked into the waistband with the top two buttons undone, revealing a little skin and a gold key pendant. His long hair drooped in front of his eyes, parted in the middle.

He fiddled with the strands, seeing if they looked better tucked behind his ears or not; he couldn't decide.

A knock at the door to his room stopped him messing with his hair, knowing full well it was his brothers ready to take him to wherever they had in mind.

"Jungkook, open up! Come on!" It was Jimin, yelling through the door.

He grabbed his leather jacket that he'd flung over the end of his bed and made his way to the door.

***

"Please say you're joking..." Jungkook whined in the back of the cab, looking out at the neon light that spelled out 'Burlesque' flashing above a staircase leading down into a basement club.

"Nope," Hoseok grinned, opening the door and letting out the four of them. Jin, Namjoon and Yoongi had followed behind in a separate cab.

Jungkook stepped out last, reluctant and shy.

"Hyung, seriously... I'm not so sure about-"

"What, you shy? Embarrassed? C'mon, this is like, British at it's best, right?" Hoseok encouraged.

"I thought it was French?" Jin argued, coming up behind the group.

"Actually the term started in Italy, like 400 years ago..." Namjoon, ever the intellect, started to reel off a history lesson.

"Okay fine I'll go in, if it'll stop this," Jungkook waved his hand in Namjoon's general direction, making a bee line for the door to the steps. The others followed, grinning and giggling at Jungkook's already flushed cheeks.

They had done this on purpose. He was surprisingly coy about anything sexual with them; the others? Overtly sexual. As open as you could be. But Jungkook never got over his shyness. He . could have a laugh and a joke but the second it got serious, his cheeks would flush, his hands would get clammy and his heart would race.

Perhaps, because he was a kinky little fucker, and he didn't want people to know just how much...

But the boys still liked to mess with him. He was the baby, after all. So, burlesque club it was...

When Jungkook reached the bottom step, he stopped at the cloakroom, seeing a man in a booth waiting to take admission.

"How many, sir?" he had asked. Jungkook looked at the man for the moment; a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a red waistcoat, black lined eyes and a small tuft of hair sticking out from under a black bowler hat, reminiscent of the kind Charlie Chaplin wore.

Jungkook thanked his lucky stars that he'd been paying attention to his English tuition lately, not wanting to wait for Namjoon to translate. In fact, he'd gotten pretty damn good at it... Fluent, even.

"Uh, seven please."

"Have you booked?" he opened a diary.

"Yes, we have. Under the name Kim," Namjoon appeared beside Jungkook, smiling kindly and offering up ID of his passport. The attendant nodded, striking the name off the book.

"Okay, booth number four, front and centre," he grinned at the group of men that had now gathered, "Enjoy!" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Jungkook had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. He was just doing his job after all.

The men wandered into the club, Namjoon finding the table with the golden number four at the edge. The men settled in the booth, with Jungkook placed strategically in the middle. The cloakroom attendant had been right; front and centre.

The lights to the club were dim, a spotlight trained on the stage at the front. Large red velvet curtains with gold trimmings hid most of the stage from view, waiting for the first act. Waiters and waitresses, all wearing black dress shirts and red waistcoats like the doorman, wondered the floor freely, taking drinks orders from the tables that were sat waiting. Punters were sat along the bar, mostly middle aged men there alone, or couples who hadn't booked a table.

Almost every table was full, both men and women alike. Groups of women were just as frequent as the men; girls' nights and bachelorette parties side by side with working class men out of an evening and bachelor parties too. The atmosphere was likened to that of a concert, before the lights go down and the artist walks on stage; the dull hum of conversation and anticipation filling the space.

A waitress came to take the order for the table, hurriedly scurrying off to collect their drinks and returning around 5 minutes alter, a tray perfectly balanced in her hand.

The boys got chatting, passing the time before the real show started. Jungkook sat nervously, an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure about all this, he felt so vulnerable. He understood that burlesque was a beautiful art form and not just stripping; this was different. But something in him just felt uneasy about watching girls dancing and stripping, and he was sure it was because his hyungs were there to make fun of him for it.

He watched the time on his watch, ticking closer and closer to 10pm; he was sure that was when it was due to start. It must be...

And he was right. 10pm, and the bar lights dimmed, the spotlight shone, and the curtains slowly drew back, revealing a stage covered in beautiful girls, poised and ready to move as the music began. Their outfits were damn near sinful, and had all of the boys drooling into their cocktails; the beautiful red rhinestones that covered every inch of their bras, corsets and panties, the huge black feathers that fanned out behind them and stuck out of the top of headdresses, the black fishnet stockings held up by the red suspender belts, the classy red heel pumps... All were taken off one by one to the music, leaving each beautiful lady stood in underwear, stocking and vibrant red nipple tassels, swinging around suggestively.

The audience clapped and cheered as they finished the introductory number, the first act done with after 15 minutes of teasing, dancing, contortion and stripping.

The next act was introduced by a host; a male dressed like a ringmaster, of all clichés. This was acrobatic; two beautiful blonde women, performing beautiful movements in aerial routines, backflips, front flips, splits, cartwheels and using each other's bodies to create shapes the natural body should never be able to form.

Jungkook was of course, in awe at the show, watching as act upon act did their thing after the host's introduction; dances, teasing, acrobatics, lip sync routines, live singers; it was incredible to watch. And yes, very, very sexy.

He couldn't help but let his mind wander, much like every other person watching. What would it be like to be with one of these dancers for an evening? What would it be like to have someone put on a show like this in private?

Another show ended, and all seven of the boys clapped in appreciation of the group of girls who had just finished their rendition of Marilyn Monroe's 'Lazy'.

The host wondered back onto the stage, clapping too.

"Beautiful, just beautiful. Well, next up is the girl you've all been waiting for... Ms. Devereaux!"

The place erupted.

A standing ovation as the lights went down, cheers and whistles filled the air and Jungkook and the others sat in quiet confusion, clapping and waiting for something to happen on the stage to explain the incredible reaction from everyone else in the room.

The noise died down, people sat in their seats once again, and the music began...

"Aaaaaaare you gonna take me home tonight?"

Jungkook sat bolt upright, suddenly very aware of himself and surroundings.

"Oooohhhh, down beside your red fire light."

He had to be hearing things.

"Aaaaaaare, you gonna let it all hang out?"

Nope, this was happening.

"Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin' world go round!"

The spotlight hit as the familiar guitar started to strum, landing on you, your back to the audience, shaking your hips and tapping your foot to the guitar's rhythm.

Jungkook could feel the heat rising in his face, knowing full well that every pair of eyes at his table were now focussed on him, and yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from where you stood on stage. He hadn't even seen your face, but god, he knew you were beautiful.

Your outfit was all black, elegant and yet so delectably scandalous. You wore a steel boned corset, moulding your delightful rolls into an hourglass figure to be envious of. It was black, laced at the back by black ribbon with small ruffle details alone the top. It dipped at the front, a clear v-line to show off the deep cleavage create by pushing your breasts together. From the hips to the back was covered in a feather train, cutting off at the back of your knees.

Suspenders hung from a garter belt hidden underneath the corset that attached to simple black stockings, the stitching running up the back of each of your legs following every little bump of cellulite and the natural curve of your calves.

Black satin panties covered your most important areas, the material shining against your beautiful round ass as you shook it in the spotlight to the music. Shiny black pumps stomped on the stage to the beat, along with a fancy cane you were holding in your right hand. Gloves made of the same sheer material as your stocking covered your forearms up past the elbow, an air of such sophistication added to your ensemble. And finally, a top hat with a couple of black feathers sticking up from the back.

Jungkook's jaw was hanging open, a comical 'o' shape of absolute shock etched into his face. The rest of the boys mimicked him, except they were looking at him, not at you on the stage.

The song continued, Freddie's oh so familiar voice singing out about beautiful big girls while you strut across the stage, flirting with the table in the front, dancing and hitting every beat, using your pure sexuality to entice every member of the audience as they whistled and clapped with glee.

"I've been singing with my band, across the wire, across the land, I seen every blue eyed floozy on the way, hey!

But their beauty and their style, went kind of smooth after a while. Take me to them dirty ladies every time..."

Jungkook was bewitched, watching as you continued your number; so sexy, swaying your hips and using your cane as you slowly took one glove off, followed by another. He loved the red lipstick you were wearing, imagining it smeared across his own neck with you biting and nipping at his skin to leave purple bruise marks... He watched you slowly taking off the smaller accessories of your ensemble, wishing so damn hard that it was him who would be able to do it instead.

When the chorus kicked in again, the club erupted to sing along. Skilfully, you undid the bow in the ribbon lacing your corset together, and started to undo the clasps at the front with one hand as your twirled your cane with the other. Before you let it fall, you threw it to one side, twirling so the audience didn't quite see your bare breasts covered only by black nipple tassels. You had more to take off before you finally revealed yourself...

At his table, the other members were getting rowdy like the rest of the club. They knew the song well, thanks to Jungkook, so sang along where they could, waving their arms around and dancing in place. But Kookie sat still, staring, mesmerised and imagining all the sinful activities he would just love to do with you.

He couldn't help himself; watching the way your hips swayed, your ass bounced, your thighs jiggled... It was turning him on to no end, and he was so desperate for you. To him, you were an absolute goddess, everything about you so beautiful. He'd never seen anyone like you before.

As the song neared its end, you were practically nude; the heels had been kicked off, the stockings taken off with the garter belt following, the top hat discarded and flung into the audience.

You kept yourself fairly concealed, your back to the crowd until Freddie shouts "GET ON YOUR BIKES AND RIDE", and you span around dancing to the guitar and Freddie's ad-libs as the song drew to a close, the tassels spinning and swaying, every beautiful roll of yours jiggling so perfectly.

Jungkook watched in awe as your danced around with your cane, practically nude, showing off your beautiful body. He could feel himself hardening, straining against the tightness of his jeans that he was grateful were so tight, there was no way anyone would be able to tell he was actually hard...

He had to meet you. He had to. If nothing else, just to tell you how beautiful he thought you were.

As the number ended, you posed at the edge of the stage, looking front and centre at Jungkook. Everybody in the room was cheering, clapping, whistling, all on their feet. But Jungkook stayed in his seat, and it caught your eye. You noticed just how dark his eyes were, how hooded they looked. You knew that look; it was lust. He was totally under your spell. So, being the showgirl you were, you smirked at him and winked, with a little blow of a kiss in his direction, before the lights went out and you exited the stage.

You had a few other numbers that night, a couple of different songs to do; some solo, some in groups, but each time you noticed Jungkook still staring, still spell bound. You found it quite amusing; such a handsome, muscled yet lean guy, incapacitated by a plus size burlesque dancer.

Cute.

The final number included all the performers, wrapping up the night in a beautiful display of acrobatics, live vocals, contortion, dancing and of course, mild nudity amongst a blur of feathers, rhinestones and tassels.  You took your final bow with your colleagues and friends, and made your way backstage to turn yourself back from Ms. Devereaux into y/n, ready to step back out into the club to mingle with the regulars and staff you knew and loved so much until closing.

Back on the floor, Jungkook felt almost like he was floating. It may have been the precarious amount of cocktails he had sipping on throughout the night, but he was sure that it was you he was intoxicated by.

As his brothers sat chatting and continuing to drink, enjoying the night - and occasionally making jabs at Jungkook for his reaction to your numbers, - Jungkook sat dipping in and out of the conversation, he attention elsewhere. He kept looking over to the corner of the club, a door with a 'stage door' sign on and a man clad in all black with an earpiece in one ear standing watch outside. He had to try...

He excused himself from the table, Namjoon and Tae having to stand to let him out of the booth. They assumed he was on his way to the bathroom, until they watched him head straight for the stage door.

"What the hell is he doing?" Yoongi asked, confused.

The others shrugged, watching intently.

The bouncer at the door held a hand out to Jungkook, who stood awkwardly, hands plunged into his pockets

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked, hands crossed in front of him.

"I-I was... um, is it possible to speak to one of the dancers?" he asked, nerves making him stutter over his words.

"Which one?"

"Uh... Ms. Dav-Daver..." he couldn't quite remember your name completely

"Ms. Devereaux?" the bouncer knew who he meant, thankfully. Jungkook nodded. "I'll let her know she has a fan," the man smirked, pressing a button on a radio he pulled from his back pocket and speaking into it, "Mr. Vandross, I have a gentleman here who would like to speak to Ms. Devereaux." The radio beeped and static poured out.

"Okay, 10 minutes," a male voice came back through the device.

"Now worries," the bouncer replied, shoving the radio into his pocket again. "10 minutes, sir. If you'd like to wait by the bar. Ms. Devereaux's will have a mojito."

"O-oh, okay..." Jungkook wasn't sure exactly what just happened, or what he expected to happen, but he turned back towards the bar and took up an empty stool near the end, ordering a drink for himself and your favourite cocktail. He watched the hands of his watch tick by minute by minute, anxiously tapping his foot against the bar stool, until he saw movement beside him, taking the stool next to him.

"Hello," you smiled, taking the mojito that Frankie the bar tender had brought to you as you sat down and taking a sip. Jungkook was taken back a little bit, still very much in awe of your beauty. You had kept your make up on, but now were wearing a knee length bodycon dress that hugged you in every place you had so proudly shown off throughout the night.

"H-hi..." Seeing you up close like this, being able to take in every feature of your face as well as your body, created a tsunami of nerves Jungkook hadn't expected. You were even more beautiful now, if that were possible.

"I was told you wanted to see me. What can I do for you?"

So much, Jungkook thought.

"I just wanted to say that... well, um- y-you're really beautiful and very talented." He played with the cocktail stirrer in his glass as he spoke. You smiled sweetly at his kind comment. Clearly his first language was not English; you could tell by the way he paused between words to think. It was endearing to you, something so cute. He was trying so hard, trying to talk to you as best he could.

You could tell you were making him nervous by the way he bit his lip and fiddled with his long hair, pushing it back and letting it flop back into place.

"What's your name?" you asked, curious to know more about this absolutely gorgeous man who looked like such a confident soul by appearance, but was downright terrified now he was in front of you.

"J-Jungkook," he stuttered again. Aw.

"I like it," you mused, and he hung his head as he smiled at your compliment. "Jungkook, you seem nervous," you placed your hand on his knee, feeling just how tight those jeans were. His eyes darted to your hand, electricity sparking at the contact.

"S-sorry, Ms. Devereaux. I just think you're so..." he wasn't sure how to finish that sentence. Beautiful wasn't enough; in fact, he was sure he didn't have an English word in his repertoire that could describe how gorgeous you were.

"Please, Ms. Devereaux is my stage name. I'm y/n, call me by that," you removed your hand from his knee, taking hold of your cocktail and taking another sip. "I'm flattered you think of me so highly. I noticed you, y'know. On stage I mean. The way you looked at me..." you leaned a little closer to him, so close he could smell the perfume you had sprayed before meeting him, "like you just wanted to fuck me," you whispered.

Jungkook's head snapped up, making eye contact with such shock...

"I-I'm sorry?"

"The look on your face, it was...primal. You wanted me, you were thinking about it, picturing it. Were you not?" you challenged, leaning your elbow on the bar and leaning into him a little more, keeping your voice low and so god damn seductive he was falling deeper and deeper into that imagination again.

"I-I..."

"It's okay, you can say it..." you teased, pressing your free hand against his thigh and feeling the taught muscle straining. Wow, you thought, those thighs... You would be more than happy to let him use those thighs against you however he liked. "Do you want to fuck me, Jungkook?"

He took a moment, thinking carefully of the pros and cons of this situation. Not that it mattered, he answered without paying attention to either.

"So much," he practically growled. You smirked, watching that darkness return to his eyes.

"Then why are we still sat here?"

Immediately Jungkook took your hand, downed his drink and without a thought to the rest of his brothers - who had all been watching from their booth in awe - took your hand from his knee and pulled you out of the club.

On the surface, you hailed a black cab down, climbing in the back with Jungkook in tow.

"My place or yours?" you had asked, and Jungkook barked the hotel name at the driver.

The whole car ride was laced with so much sexual tension. You had a moment of what the hell are you doing, y/n? that you brushed to the back of your mind. No, this wasn't like you. You had never taken a punter home before, never slept with anyone you met at work. But this guy... You couldn't pass this delicious specimen up.

You placed your hand on his thigh once again, a little higher than before, squeezing the muscle as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, using the close proximity to nuzzle your hair. Whatever shampoo you used was intoxicating to him. You could feel his hot breath on your ear, taken by surprise when he started to nip at the lobe and suckle lightly.

He wasted no time when the cab pulled up outside the hotel, passing far too many notes to the driver as he pulled you out with his arm around your waist. Already, he loved the way it felt under his touch, the squish just as delectable as he had imagined.

The both of you had been holding back since the cab ride but when he finally got you in the elevator alone, he couldn't stop himself.

Catching you off guard, he pushed you into the corner, looming over you with such animal lust you thought he might take you right there and then. Instead, he crashed his lips down onto yours, finally getting to taste you. His hands groped at your hips pulling them closer to his own in an attempt to grind on you, but the tightness of his jeans meant the friction he desired was further away than he thought.

The elevator dinged and doors opened on Jungkook's floor. He was too caught up in you that he didn't move; you had to push him with a giggle and direct him out into the corridor.

"Which room is it?" you laughed, looking both ways as if the room would be basking in a golden glow and obvious to you if you just looked hard enough. It wasn't.

"This way," he pulled on your hand in the direction of his room, digging in his pockets for his wallet and key card to get in.

Pulling you into the hotel room, he slammed the door shut behind the two of you, kicking it shut. You surprised him by pushing him up against it now, getting him back for trapping you in the elevator.

You kissed him again, going a little slower than Jungkook may have liked, but you wanted to savour the moment. Besides, you had been teasing all night; it was your job. Why would you stop now?

Using your tongue to lightly graze against his lips, you silently told him to open up, diving in further to deepen you kiss. Jungkook chuckled to himself; you tasted like your mojito. He pulled back for breath, resting his head back on the door and looking down at you through his lashes.

Your red lipstick had barely smudged, only the slightest trace he was ever there. I'll have to try harder, he thought.

A few deep breaths and Jungkook resumed the kiss, cupping your rounded face with one hand to create an intimate moment between you. It was sweet, but you were running out of patience and the lust was building and building.

Grabbing hold of his leather jacket, you slipped it off his shoulders, throwing it to the side. Grabbing fistfuls of the silk shirt, you pull him as you step back further into the room until the edge of his bed hits the back of your knees. Your hands make light work of the buttons on the shirt, undoing them and exposing his chest and abs. Holy shit, the abs.

Untucking it from his jeans, he rips the material from his torso for you, his lips never leaving yours as they moulded together so desperately.

He breaks you apart once again, spinning you round to have you stood with your back to him. His hands trace from your hips, up your waist to the zipper at the back of your dress. Slowly, he dragged it down, undoing the material to expose the bra straps and flesh hiding beneath. You pulled the sleeves off your arms pushing the material off you, down your hips, wiggling them as you slipped out of it. The dress hit the floor, and you're now stood in front of him, your back to him, in simple lace lingerie; a stark contrast to the rhinestones, glitter and feathers from hours before.

Jungkook's hands slowly lifted from beside him, slipping around your waist to feel you, needing to touch the beautiful ripples of flesh around your hips and tummy.

"You feel so soft," he whispered into your ear, trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder, his hands wandering over your body. You reached behind you, unclasping your bra to drop to the side of you, leaning back into Jungkook's touch as his lips trailed back up to your neck, suckling on the skin.

His hands raised from your waist to meet your now free breasts, loving the way they felt in his hands. And you had to admit, this was possibly the most erotic foreplay you'd had in a long time. Jungkook was skilled with his hands, and you core ached to find out just how good with his hands he could be...

You turned to face him once again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you, pressing your bare chests together as his arms enveloped you, loving how squishy you felt.

Your lips reconnected, your tongues doing that same familiar dance as before as he pushed you again, forcing you to sit on the edge of the bed below him. You crawled back, enough so that he had space to kneel between your knees on the mattress and hover over you, his long hair tickling the skin on your forehead and his key pendant dangling between the mounds of your breasts.

He kissed a line of wet, sloppy kisses down your neck again, suckling and biting but using his tongue each time to soothe the sting of his teeth. Before long his mouth was on your breast, suckling at your sensitive nipple with an outrageous amount of care. his actions elicited the first real moan of the evening, unable to contain your pleasure any longer.

His lips continued their assault south, leaving little red marks along your chubby tummy that you were sure would turn purple given time. He spent time there, simply kissing, biting suckling at your chub, and despite the intimate actions, you never felt at all insecure about your weight like many other sexual encounters had made you feel. In fact, you felt empowered.

He was worshipping you, in all your beautiful rubenesque beauty.

Your core was aching for him, the wetness pooling in your panties the longer he spent adoring your body. You wriggled a little under him, uncomfortably aroused. He must be feeling it too, the strain against his jeans getting too much to bare, but he soldiered on, only caring about you and your wellbeing. He wanted to please you so much.

His kisses lowered again, reaching the space where your tummy protruded the most just above the lace of your panties. He looked up at you again through his lashes, his eyes as dark as they had been when you were performing. He was asking - begging - for your approval... And of course you gave it, spreading your legs wider for him to settle between.

His lips touched your thighs, peppering the flesh with kisses. He loved the way they jiggled a little with every small movement you made, every squirm under each kiss.

Suddenly, his kisses concentrated on your lace covered pussy, the heat of his breaths sending such wonderful shivers up your spine; finally some contact. He pulled the fabric to the side, revealing only part of where you needed him most. He kissed the bare skin, your juices coating his lips in a beautiful gloss; it suited him well.

He sat up momentarily, pulling the fabric off your legs before he lunged forward, pouncing on you like a cat on its prey. He had tasted you on his lips and immediately needing more. He couldn't stop himself.

His lips covered your mound, his tongue darting out between your folds to lap your juices up, tasting that sweet taste oh so completely. Your breath fell short as your back arched, the warm wetness a brand new sensation that you could only describe as emphatic.

"J-Jungkook," you whined, breathless as his tongue circled your clit, the nerves reacting accordingly.

"Mmm," he hummed from between your thighs, using his strength to hold them down, squishing at the flesh. He knew how to used his mouth, and every damn part of it; his lips, his tongue, even his teeth, grazing the bundle of nerves gently to elicit another reaction.

"Oh, fuck, it feels so good..." your hands bunched in his hair, pulling at the long strands. The sting he felt only spurred him on, loving the feeling of you controlling him like this.

One of the hands clutched around your thighs let go, snaking around to plunge two long fingers into your entrance. The intrusion was surprising, but most welcome, stretching you out so well as his mouth continued attacking your clit. He curled them, tapping up on the soft cushion inside you that made you pulse with need. Fuck, he was too good at this.

That delicious feeling was growing in the pit of your stomach, your pussy throbbing rhythmically as he brought you closer and closer to the edge; tapping and curling his fingers, working his mouth harder, sloppier on you.  

"Sh-shit... Oh, my god. I'm- I'm gonna..." you weren't making any sense audibly, but your body's reaction was translating enough. Jungkook knew you were close, and somehow, he kicked into high gear as he fucked your pussy with his fingers harder.

Something inside you burst, like someone has gripped a full water balloon tighter and tighter until it exploded. The metaphor was spot on, the sheets completely soaked as your pussy got over-excited, squirting more arousal around Jungkook's hand and dripping down his chin.

No one had ever made you do that before; even Jungkook seemed shocked as he sat up, wiping his mouth, watching you regain some modicum of stability.  

"H-how? What did you do?" you asked. "I didn't know I could do that," you laughed, trying to gain your breath back.

Jungkook just grinned in response, a shit-eating, smug grin, before he was attacking your lips with his own again, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue. You'd barely had any time to recuperate, but you absolutely were not going to stop him.

Now it was his turn for some relief.

He wasted no time undoing the leather belt on his jeans and popping the button and zipper. You tried to help, your hands getting in the way a little but eventually taking lead to pull the tight material from his hips, exposing the thighs you marvelled at earlier that night. He scrambled to remove the rest, pulling off his boxers as he did so. Versace, you noticed. Very nice.

But now, he was like you; completely nude, completely exposed.

As soon as you saw the size of him, your cunt ached again. You needed him, to feel full. He was of average length, but certainly thicker than any man you had been with before. You could practically already feel the stretch...

"Turn over," he demanded, all worship lost on you and now, he needed this; his fantasy. You did as you were told, flipping over onto your stomach and raising your ass into the air for him, giving him a delicious behind view of your pussy and outrageous bubble butt. "Fuck," he whispered as his hand grazed the skin of your cheek; this is what he wanted, what he'd always wanted.

Gently, he tapped the flesh, testing the waters but watching as the skin rippled, just as he had imagined it would. His cock leaked a drop of pre-cum at the sight.

When you giggled a little in response, he took that as the consent you had meant it to be to spank a little harder. When he did, you squeaked a little, reacting to the sting. You loved it. you wanted it harder. You wanted branding.

"Fuck, you're incredible," he said, lining his head up with your entrance, ready and dripping for him again already. The delightful stretch you felt as he pushed into you was euphoric, sending your eyes rolling back into your head and your arms almost giving way underneath you. His fingers dug into your ass, his nails creating little crescent moon shapes in your skin.

It took all his willpower not to lose control right then, knowing you'd need a second to adjust having only been used to two of his fingers before. You silently thanked him, and when you were ready, started to bounce your ass against him to gain the friction you both needed.

Jungkook needn't move; you were doing the work for him, every pound of glorious jiggle bounding in front of him. He watched in amazement, feeling nothing but pure pleasure as you moved on his dick, but he could only take it for so long until he needed control back.

He needed to pound into you the way he had imagined. And so, he did.

Gripping onto your love handles, he pulled your hips back onto him, his balls slapping hard against your pussy. It felt fantastic, and god, did you love being controlled like this. You cried out at the movement, egging him on to please, please keep doing that.

He pulled his hips back again, before slamming back into you with force. Your ass rippled at the action and my god did he love it. He needed to see more of it, that beautiful jiggle.

As he fucked into you from behind, his hand collided with your ass check with much more force than before, sure to leave a red hand print like you had hoped. You cried out, biting down on the sheets underneath you to keep the screams from getting too loud.

With him spanking at your ass and drilling into you with such ferocity, you knew you wouldn't last long. Especially after the first powerful orgasm he had given you.

But he pulled out of you completely, using all his strength to flip you over again. He crawled back on top of you, positioning his hip in-between your thighs before pistoning his hips forward and impaling you on his length again. Jungkook had decided he needed to see your beautiful face, your fucked out eyes and your pink flushed cheeks when you came around his cock. He wanted the intimacy back that you can't get from behind. He had got his wish, and now he needed to be close to you.

The sweat on his forehead had gathered and matted his hair to his face, making him look even more fucking god-like than you even thought possible. You pushed the hair out of his face as he thrust up into you, grinding your hips together as he did. His eyes were glazed with lust and staring straight into yours that you could barely keep open. He loved how you looked, how you bounced under him.

Your hand moved from tugging his hair back to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips desperately as the two fo you got so close to your untimely end. You wished you could both go for longer but there was too much to get excited about, too much to turn you on to be able to prolong the inevitable.

"Y-You're so beautiful, y/n. So, so fucking beautiful," he mumbled against your lips between groans and grunts of animalistic nature.

"K-Kookie," the nickname rolled of your tongue without thinking, followed by a moan that told him you were getting close again. He knew he wouldn't last much longer the second your walls clenched around him. But he didn't want you to miss out on your second high, not on account of him.

"Touch yourself for me," he instructed, "please..." his begging tone was surprising but so charming, and you'd be evil to ignore him. You slipped your hand between the two of you, drawing pleasant circles over your clit as he continued to fuck into you.

With the new sensation, you had seconds left. Your back arched up into him, pressing your bodies together. You couldn't control your squirming anymore, knowing that what was coming was going to be earth shattering.

Jungkook growled as you clenched again, lowering his head to your breasts and biting gently down on one of your nipples, kneading your breast with his hand. Too much; it was all too much. You could feel yourself dissolving into pleasure beneath him.

Your nerves seemed to to catch alight, like a burning ember had met gasoline inside your body. Your breath hitched in your throat silencing your moans and every muscle clenched tightly as it all hit at once. As stage one of your orgasm played out, stage two came in what felt like electric shocks hitting you multiple times, rocketing through you and pulsing. Your legs convulsed, muscles twitching and the like someone had pressed unmute on you, you let out the most tremendous moans of bliss.

Jungkook kept thrusting, losing his rhythm as he watched you come undone. It turned him on so much, and when your pussy started to pulse around him that was it for him; beautifully warm spurts of cum painted your walls as his body went rigid. He grit his teeth, a long, low grunt erupting from the very pits of his stomach.

It took you both a few moments to regain some sense, breathing hard and heavy. Jungkook had to use all his upper body strength to keep him from collapsing on you, still reeling from the most intense orgasm he thinks he had ever had.

"Shit..." he huffed, looking up to see you beet red, panting and completely fucked out. His arms ached so much he couldn't hold himself up anymore, collapsing into your soft body and snuggling into you with exhaustion.

"Are you okay?" you asked, still panting away like a dog in ferocious sunlight. He nodded against you, still breathing hard himself. "Well... that was- that was incredible. You're incredible."

"Thanks..." he chuckled. "I... I'm here for another week, y'know..." he looked up at you, waiting for a response. You hummed in approval.

"Thats at least another... six or seven shows," you grinned. If he was insinuating that the two of you were going to continue these little hotel escapades for the remainder of his stay, who were you to say no...

"Tomorrow, you're bringing all that shit back here with you." He wanted the feathers, the rhinestones, the glitter, and he wanted it littering his hotel room floor. "And that cane, too..."

"A private show, huh? I'm sure we can arrange that. Any song requests?" you teased.

"Fat bottomed girls," he replied. "Absolutely, every fucking time. Fat bottomed girls."

[museflight]

The Call (2)

Chapter Title: Teamwork

Wordcount: 4.7k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: See end of fic.

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a conversation with Annie, and Annie has a conversation of her own.

"The slayer," Mikasa repeated, disbelief flat on her tongue. She let go of the woman’s - Annie’s - hand and took a step back. "I'm the slayer."

"I thought you might be," the woman - Annie - said. "That's why I came here. I thought-"

"No," Mikasa cut her off, already shaking her head. "There's only one slayer at a time. You're..."

A lie. An imposter. Impossible. Mikasa took another step back, forcing her feet into a more solid stance despite the fresh wave of protest from her injured ankle.

"I'm telling the truth," Annie insisted. She drummed her fingers against her stake as she spoke, as if its mere presence somehow landed her words credence. "A new slayer is called when the old one dies. Normally that would mean that there's only one at a time, but..." Her lips pressed together. Now it was her turn to look suspicious. "I suppose I'm the one who should be asking questions," she finished.

"She's right," a voice said from behind her, soft, contemplative, maybe even a touch mournful.

She didn't need him to remind her of that. The thought was already dancing around within her, forming a lump in her throat and clawing at the backs of her eyes. Nonetheless, Eren whispered, "you died, Mikasa. Remember?"

Of course she did. The memory had been lapping at her heels for the past several days, relentlessly haunting her in those few moments that she laid down to sleep. It had been easy to brush it off as a combination of guilt and exhaustion. Now, however... Erwin had told her that slayer's dreams tended to be more meaningful than most. She had assumed that it didn't apply to memories, but as she stared Annie down, she wondered if she might have been drowning in her dreams for a reason.

Assuming that Annie was telling the truth.

"Who's your watcher?" Mikasa asked, not daring to drop from her stance or come any closer.

Annie blinked. "Watcher?"

"From the watcher's council," Mikasa pressed.

"Oh." Annie frowned. "I didn't... know that was a thing."

Mikasa pursed her lips. In theory, that probably shouldn't have boded well, but... Erwin had found her less than three months ago, even though she had been called years before that. Everything she knew about being the slayer prior to his arrival had been cobbled together from encounters with various demons after she was called. That much, there had been no denying.

The council was supposed to guide the slayer and help combat against the forces of darkness, but they had already failed once. What were the odds that the council would have found a second slayer when they had no idea that they were even looking for one? 

Had the council really been so incompetent that they left her to go through the same thing as her?

Mikasa's expression remained guarded and unreadable as she continued. Meanwhile, Annie was visibly trying to do the same, but she couldn't quite hide the whisper of anxiety making its way against her expression. Eventually, she broke and asked, "will your watcher help treat your injuries?"

He would if she went to him.

She didn't want to. That wasn't Annie's business though.

"Does it matter?" Mikasa asked. As she spoke, she went to shift her stance a little, her muscles growing stiff from being trapped in the same position for so long. That was a mistake. She was hit by a fresh wave of dizziness from her head and discomfort from her ankle, causing her to stumble a few centimeters. It was a very slight misstep, but Annie caught it, her lips dropping into a slight frown.

"You're dead meat out here in this state," Annie said. "If they won't, then let me help you."

Mikasa stiffened. She turned her head, almost imperceptibly - just enough to catch a glimpse of Eren lurking a few paces behind her. He hadn't been there to watch the vampire go for her, but he was here now. Did that mean that some part of her sensed that she was out of danger? Or had he showed up because the real threat had only just arrived? Even if she was a slayer, it didn't mean that she was to be trusted. It didn't mean-

"I don't know what you should do," Eren confessed, stepping forward and looking Mikasa in the eyes. The eye-contact was brief and promptly broken off by Mikasa. As she shifted her gaze back to Annie, she thought her peripheral vision caught the whisper of some expression flickering across his face. He continued on in spite of it. "But if she planned on hurting you, I think-"

He went silent as Annie spoke, seemingly finishing his line for him. "If I was going to hurt you, I would have done it already." She paused, gaze intensifying as she looked Mikasa up and down. "I wouldn't have had to do anything. You've already taken care of that by going out in your state."

Mikasa bristled. She knew that Annie was right, painful to accept though it may be. That wasn't the thing that pushed against her nerves. It was that this woman - her apparent savior - felt the need to go ahead and point that out.

"So why did you?" Mikasa asked, voice short and clipped. "Why are you here?"

Annie answered immediately, her voice earnest despite the hint of discomfort. "Because we're both slayers," she said. "The only ones in the world, presumably." She gave a bitter smile and held her hands up placatingly, one thumb pressed down to keep her stake held in place. "I'm not saying we need to be friends, but our lives will probably be a whole lot easier if we help each other out."

It made sense. If there truly were two slayers, then in theory, they could bear to lighten their loads by half. Or do a whole lot more. But that would require both of those slayers staying alive. It made sense, and yet, Mikasa hesitated.

To her credit, Annie caught on quickly. She lowered her hands with a heavy sigh. "I'll answer any questions you have at my place," she said. "But not here, with you half dead."

Mikasa gritted her jaw.

At the edge of the vision, she saw Eren step up to stand beside her. "Mikasa, I know you're strong, but you're not invincible," he said. "You need help."

I know, she didn't say, even though she knew that she did, at least for tonight.

Instead, she unclenched her jaw, took a deep breath, and said, "fine."

***

The journey to Annie's house was silent. She didn't offer to help Mikasa walk, for which she was glad. It was already bad enough that she had noticeably slowed her pace to accommodate her limping.

"We're here," Annie murmured, coming to a halt in front of an unobtrusive little house placed on a street corner. A street corner that was only two blocks away from the cemetery. Mikasa frowned, unable to decide if the location was smart for its convenience or foolish for its risk. The frown deepened when, after a short walk up to the patio, Annie opened the door quickly and easily.

"You don't lock your door?" Mikasa questioned.

Annie shrugged. "No need."

Mikasa pursed her lips. Potential reasons for Annie's viewpoint flew through her head; she'd certainly considered them herself a few times. A slayer should be able to deal with any intruder. The odds of a home invasion were unlikely. If some thing truly wanted to get in, a mere lock wouldn't be enough to stop it. She had considered them many a time, wondered if she was just being paranoid.

Those considerations never changed her actions. She still kept her door locked, regardless of whether she was home or not. Even if it didn't stop whatever was trying to get in, it could slow them down. That was important. It was important to remember that every moment counted. It was important to remember that slayers were strong, but they weren't infallible, and with that strength came a target painted on their back.

It wasn't even just slayers. Normal people could stand to be a little safer too. Home invasions were rare in Paradis, but they did happen.

Not that Annie seemed to care.

She strode through the entryway, either unaware of Mikasa's displeasure or simply failing to care. As Mikasa bristled, the phantom that had followed them all of the way there stepped in ahead of her. "Give her a chance," Eren urged. "You haven't really met her yet."

What I've seen so far doesn't seem worth knowing, Mikasa thought. Nonetheless, she moved to follow Annie into the house, hesitating for a moment at the doorway, then walking right through Eren when he didn't get out of the way quickly enough.

It would probably be easier if she just let it slide. And yet...

"You should sti-" Mikasa's words evaporated as she followed Annie into the kitchen. There was a person in there. A tall man about their age, sitting slumped over at the island, reading a book. He looked comfortable. Not an intruder, no, he looked like-

The stranger looked up. "Annie," he called, eyes glittering with excitement that turned into concern as he noticed Mikasa. They met eyes, and Mikasa's confusion deepened. She'd seen this guy around before. Only a few times, and only at night. Quite frankly, she'd entertained the thought that he was a vampire last time she saw him. His general nervous and soft-spoken demeanor was what had made her second-guess her assessment. A good thing, she supposed, because that was looking very much impossible now. Assuming that she was right, assuming he actually-

The stranger turned his gaze back to Annie. "Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Bertolt, get the first aid kit," she said, a hint of a sigh in her voice.

The man - Bertolt - stood up with a nod and scurried out of the kitchen. Annie walked over to the island and set down her stake. Eren wandered over to lean against the stove, idly taking in his surroundings. Meanwhile, Mikasa just stood there and stared. This woman claimed to be a slayer, and yet...

"You live with someone?" Mikasa demanded, her voice suddenly returning to her.

"Of course," Annie said. "I couldn't afford to pay the rent myself."

"And does he-"

"-Know?" Annie interrupted. "Of course." She leaned against the island and crossed her arms, preemptively daring Mikasa to challenge her. "Bertolt and Reiner have been with me since I first got my powers."

Mikasa gaped. Meanwhile, Annie stared, not quite judgemental, but certainly assessing.

"Is your watcher the only one that knows about you?" Annie asked.

"No," Mikasa admitted. "But there were mitigating circumstances."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that there weren't with me?"

Mikasa pursed her lips. "That's not the point," she said. The point was that she avoided living with anyone, even though it meant that she couldn't afford more than a tiny apartment. The point was that she took measures to make sure that no one was truly dragged into her world. The point was that she didn't dare let Armin close enough to truly consider him her friend - or for the rest of the world to notice. "What you're doing is dangerous."

"And striking off on your own isn't?" Annie countered. As she spoke, Bertolt returned, carefully placing the first aid kit on the island and nervously glancing between them. Annie didn't so much as pause. "There are benefits to having a team."

"Do they help you?" Mikasa asked. The idea was preposterous. Annie might have been a slayer, but her roommates certainly weren't. The very demons that she could go toe-to-toe with would turn them into mincemeat. "You're putting their lives at risk."

"Maybe sometimes," Bertolt piped up. He had migrated over to a corner and was leaning against a wall of cupboards, fidgeting awkwardly. "But she's also saved our lives plenty of times too. Maybe we can only help her a little, but that's still something. And, well, I'd rather know the truth and be able to do something about it." He paused, and something in his gaze seemed to harden. "Especially since if anything happens to her, it means that everyone will be a lot less safe."

"They have a point," Eren mused.

They might have. Mikasa's head was reeling too much to really think about it right now. She thought it was because of what they were saying, but judging from the myriad of concerned and alarmed looks she received in that instant, she supposed it may have been the head wound.

"Come here," Annie said, reaching for the first aid kit.

With a small sigh, Mikasa obliged.

Once she was within reach, Annie took Mikasa and guided her onto one of the stools surrounding the island. Her touch was gentle yet firm.

Mikasa watched out of the corner of her eye as Annie opened the first aid kit and opened a packet of antiseptic wipes. She was prepared for it, yet couldn't quite refrain from wincing when Annie took one of the wipes and carefully dabbed at her head wound. The blonde didn't apologize, but she did pause for a second before slowing down in her ministrations. Before long, the first wipe was bogged down with blood and she had to reach for another.

They sat in silence this way for several minutes, Annie tending to Mikasa's wound while Bertolt and Eren stood by, human and illusion both equally unobtrusive. It was shattered by Annie saying, "the person that knows about you. It's Armin, right?"

Mikasa went stiff as a board, the distrust and alarm bells that had begun to fade from her mind making a striking return. Annie noticed and took a cautious step back, which Mikasa took as an opportunity to give her a long look, searching for any sign of deceit. She hadn't mentioned Armin to Annie. She had been very careful not to mention Armin to her, not to anyone. How could she-

"Armin mentioned her earlier," Eren remarked.

At the same time, Annie said, "Armin and I study together. He's mentioned you a few times, and you don't seem like the type to have many friends. That's all."

"Oh." Slowly, the alarms in Mikasa's head began to fade. The surprise meant that they lingered to some degree, but now that she'd been reminded, she recalled that Armin had mentioned an Annie. It added up in that sense. Annie's own conclusion, while a little insulting, was also accurate. Mostly. "He's not a friend," Mikasa murmured, allowing her gaze to drift down toward the floor.

"Right," Annie said, the corner of her lips twitching upward. "Too dangerous."

Mikasa sighed. "Are we done here, or..."

That got Annie and Bertolt to pipe up at the same time. The latter started to say, "you're still really-" only to cut himself off when he realized that Annie was also speaking.

For her part, Annie sighed and allowed her gaze to drift upwards for a moment. It wasn't quite an eye roll, but Mikasa got the distinct sense that she was tempted. "No," she said. "Not yet."

With that, they lapsed into the same silence as before; at least for a little while. As Annie was setting aside the final wipe and reaching for a tube of antiseptic ointment, the room was shaken by the distinct sound of a door opening. Mikasa's attention snapped to the entryway, and within a way moments, a large blond man walked by

"Reiner," Eren murmured in the same instant that the newcomer paused and peered into the kitchen. His eyes met Mikasa's, and for the third time that night, she found herself surprised by a familiar face. He was the guy from her trigonometry class, the one who sat next to Annie and liked to pester her.

She supposed it made sense. Annie didn't seem like someone with a bunch of friends either.

The newcomer - Reiner, if Eren was to be trusted - took a step further into the entryway. Eyes still trained on Mikasa, he said, "you're-"

"Yes," Annie interrupted. Now that Reiner had shown himself, she seemed content to return her attention to what she was doing. She didn't even bother looking up from the bottle of ointment she was opening as she spoke.

Reiner nodded slowly. "Right. And she's-"

"Yes." Annie squeezed some of the antiseptic onto her fingertips and carefully dabbed it onto Mikasa's wound.

This new distraction made it easier for Mikasa to avoid wincing this time. "They know about me as well?" she demanded.

"Of course," Annie said, voice flat. "We help each other."

Mikasa frowned, but didn't press the subject. If Annie was completely sold on involving her cohorts, fine. There was a more important question at hand, a question that she'd let wait for too long. "How did you find out about me?"

"Demons talk," Annie said. "I got a lot of comments about how I'm impossible and the slayer is supposed to be in Paradis." She closed the tube of antiseptic, set it back in the first aid kit, and began rummaging for the bandages.

"This is impossible," Reiner said. He walked over to lean against the counter beside the oven - inadvertently taking a place beside Eren, who was eyeing him contemplatively. "Everything we found about slayers said there's only supposed to be one at once." He frowned and crossed his arms. "Granted, it wasn't much," he conceded, "but it all said that a new slayer is only called when the old one dies."

"I died," Mikasa said, voice empty, refusing to let herself feel what she was saying. There was no avoiding this. At least she could get it over with sooner rather than later. "The EMTs revived me. But for a few minutes, I was dead."

Reiner's frown deepened. He looked for all the world like he wanted to say something else, but Annie shot him a look, and the expression fell away. He sighed, and a sympathetic one took its place. "I'm sorry you went through that," he said.

"Thanks," Mikasa murmured.

"Well," Bertolt interjected, the anxiety clear in his voice, "it's good that you know about each other now, at least. Maybe you can work together?"

He was right. Mikasa knew he was right. Two slayers had to be better than one, and the logical thing would be for them to help each other. However, the thought of committing to working with this woman she'd just met still made her pause.

Thankfully, Annie spoke up before she had to. "Don't make any assumptions," she warned Bertolt. Even so, as she turned back around to face Mikasa, bandage in hand, she gave her a brief, hopeful look; a reminder of her earlier offer.

Mikasa sighed. "I'll think about it," she said.

"That's all we can ask," Bertolt said.

Annie didn't comment. She opened up the package of the large bandage she was holding and brushed Mikasa's hair out of the way before gingerly pressing its edges down around the cut on her temple. This, she noticed, was less uncomfortable than cleaning her wound or applying the ointment. It was almost soothing.

With her head wound taken care of, Annie returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a roll of beige adhesive gauze wrap. Mikasa took the cue to extend her injured leg. Annie crouched down before her and deftly removed her shoe. Mikasa frowned, but didn't comment, a little embarrassed that she hadn't thought to do it herself.

Compared to the near-hesitancy with which she'd dressed the wound on her head, Annie was surprisingly quick and effective at wrapping her ankle. "You're good at this," Mikasa remarked.

Reiner laughed. "She should be! Annie hurt herself all the time as a kid."

"Reiner," Annie warned, standing up and shooting him with a flat look.

This time, her attempt at intimidation didn't have much effect. "It's true."

Annie frowned, Reiner's grin widened, and Mikasa couldn't help but stare. It was odd seeing a slayer interact with someone like this. Someone she had a personal history with, someone she was friends with. It was dangerously tantalizing for all that it was foreign.

Mikasa pulled her gaze away. "I should get going," she said.

"Are you sure?" Bertolt asked, shooting a glance at her ankle. "Annie or I could drive you."

"I only live a few blocks away," Mikasa said. She was aware that it wasn't entirely true, that the distance was probably closer to a mile and a half from this distance, but she wasn't about to say that. "It's been long enough that I should be able to walk that far." This much was true. The walk would agitate her ankle a bit, sure, but the wrap would minimize additional damage, and what she incurred would likely heal while she slept.

Annie looked hesitant, but eventually nodded.

Taking that as her cue to go ahead and leave, Mikasa stood up and took a few steps, then paused just as she was about to leave the kitchen. It took a few seconds to get the words out, but she eventually managed, "thank you. I'll see you later."

She left before any of them could respond.

***

The household was quiet for several minutes after Mikasa's departure. They all lingered in the kitchen, staring at the doorway, as if the slayer might pop back up at any second.

Finally, Reiner tilted his head back and sighed. "She's gone." He shifted to peer at Bertolt, then Annie, the unspoken 'we can speak' in his gaze.

Annie frowned. "Are you so confident that your hearing is better than a slayer's stealth?" she asked.

"I'm confident that she doesn't seem like the type to stick around and eavesdrop," he said.

"She seemed... sincere," Bertolt said. Annie almost wanted to snort upon hearing it. The impulse faded completely with his next words. "It kinda sucks that we have to..."

"Kill her?" Reiner interjected.

Unlike Bertolt, Annie managed to refrain from frowning. Even so, Reiner gave both of them a long look before pointing out, "that's the job." His voice was light and cheerful, carrying all of the ease that she and Bertolt lacked, like he was talking about getting groceries rather than killing a slayer. It crawled under her skin and made her want to try and claw it out.

That wouldn't do anything. Instead, she went for the itch that she actually had reason to scratch.

"A job that you're making harder," Annie snapped. She stood up a little straighter and walked over to stand in front of Reiner. "You didn't need to kill Mina."

"I was hungry. I weighed down her body and dropped it in the rider, so it's not like we'll get any trouble from it," Reiner defended. "Besides..." He paused, his eyes meeting Annie's. The casual air he had been maintaining dropped into something far more grave and serious. "You seemed like you were getting attached."

Annie bristled. In that second, she was tempted to call Reiner out for hypocrisy. He was ten times more social than she was; if anyone might endanger the mission through attachments, it was probably him. The trouble was that it wouldn't work, because it wasn't true. Reiner was a soulless bastard who could probably turn on his so-called friends at the drop of a penny without any trouble at all.

Then again, maybe it was unfair of her to blame his behavior on his lack of a soul. Bertolt didn't have a soul either; no vampire did. Bertolt didn't put on the same friendly act as Reiner, but he still managed to be less impulsive and cruel at the end of the day.

Maybe Reiner was just an overconfident, hypocritical jackass by nature.

There was no point in calling out Reiner's hypocrisy, so Annie settled for glaring at him and saying, "I've told you plenty of times that I don't care about anyone here that much."

"I'm just being careful."

"No, you're making excuses to be greedy."

Bertolt stepped out of his corner, a flicker of worry on his face. "Guys, do we have to fight about this?" he asked.

Annie gave him a long, tired look, which quickly turned into one of agitation when Reiner held his hands up and said, "hey, I'm not the one who's fighting."

"I'm not fighting," Annie ground out, slowly turning her gaze back to Reiner. "I'm saying that you're being stupid. You want to hunt on campus? Fine. But if you keep killing people we interact with, people will get suspicious no matter how much time you spend in the sunlight."

"She's right," Bertolt tentatively interjected. Reiner shot him a frown, and he quickly amended, "I'm not saying that you're stupid. But we can't afford to take too many risks." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I'm already worried about how we're going to hide my nature from the slayer. Maybe we should have come up with some sort of story."

"Like what?" Annie asked.

"Maybe we could say that I was cursed with a soul or something?" Bertolt mused.

Reiner laughed. "A vampire with a soul? How lame is that."

"It's happened before," Bertolt protested. "Although, I'm not sure if I'd be able to pull it off. It's supposed to be pretty emotionally devastating..."

"It's still ridiculous." Reiner shook his head, then waved his hand - and the ring that adorned it. "If it comes down to it, I'll just let you borrow the gem. Make sure that she sees you in the sunlight a few times and you're set."

"You're lucky to have that thing," Annie grumbled.

"I am," Reiner acknowledged. He stood up a little straighter and gave her and Bertolt a serious look, clearly trying to play the role of inspiring leader. Fun. "But we're going to need more than luck to pull this off. We need the slayer to trust us, and I doubt she's going to make that easy."

"I think we're off to a good start," Bertolt said. "She seems pretty isolated, but Annie did a good job trying to convince her she'd be better off with a team."

Annie frowned, but didn't bother pointing out that Bertolt had done most of the work. Meanwhile, Reiner blinked in surprise.

"Annie? Talking up teamwork?" He let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. "I'd pay to see that."

"Then pay," Annie said. "What I want to know is why we didn't just take her by surprise. I could have taken her out tonight if we did that."

Oh, Annie knew fully well what Reiner's convoluted logic was. They had been over this several times before. That didn't mean she didn't see the benefit in making him run through it again, just on the off chance that he might change his mind about this whole charade. She couldn't say that she felt very bad about inconveniencing him with it either.

Alas, Reiner didn't seem particularly perturbed to repeat himself for what had to be the seventh time. If anything, he looked a little smug to hear his plan out loud once more.

"Slayers know to expect attacks from strangers," Reiner said. "Unless we're able to kill her immediately, the element of surprise wears off after the first attack. But if she trusts us first? Even if she survives the initial assault, that will slow her down for a while.

"Bertolt, you're right in that you'll need to be cautious. You can help when you get the opportunity, but until it's time to act, Annie and I will need to do most the of work. As long as she doesn't find out about the Gem of Amara, I can keep her from finding out that I'm a vampire; she'll have no reason not to trust me. And Annie. Even with the state she was in, she might have escaped if you tried to take her out tonight. But if you're able to get close to her first?" Something akin to appreciation flickered in Reiner's eyes as he paused, mingling with the excitement that was oozing off of him. She ignored how it made her stomach twinge. "You're a slayer. She won't stand a chance."

Annie allowed herself to think of the strong, cold, sad woman she met today. Of how she had seemed so convinced that she had to be alone, of the flicker of hope that had shown through the distrust.

"You're right," Annie admitted. "She won't."

*****

End Notes: Alright, so. Pre-emptively, I know that Reiner is pretty OOC in this chapter. He's my favorite character in the series, so believe me, I am Aware. They are in-story reasons for this, some of which are tied to Buffyverse vampire lore and some of which will be unveiled as the story progresses. Hopefully, the payoff will be worth it in the end, but for now, all I can do is ask you to trust me when I say that I have plans.

For now though, hold on tight. Erwin gets properly introduced to the story next chapter, as well as a few other characters.

[queerbutstillhere-writes]

Day 5: Quarantine

- You can't come over tomorrow.

~ what do you mean? "Can't"?

- Gotham is on quarantine. Mandatory. Only medical personel allowed out. Hell, even the JL grounded us.

• I'm seeing can't, but hearing "help me please"

- guys. This is serious.

• for you, maybe. Timmie, we can't get sick from Covid. Kon is alien, and my metabolism is just too fast for it.

- Bart..

~ he's right, Tim.

- Do not encourage him, Kon.

- you two are not allowed to come.

Tim sighed, staring at his laptop monitor. He’d been stuck in quarantine for several days now. Alone in his apartment. He could probably suit up and hightail it across town to get to the manor if he wanted, but being quarantined alone sounded far more appealing then bring quarantined in the manor with his siblings. Dick would probably drag him into nightly board (read: bored) games, Bruce would be constantly trying to bond, Damian would probably never stop insulting him. Duke and Cass would probably be fine, but Duke was easily roped into Dick's shenanigans, and Cass had that habit of creeping up on you.

No. Tim would survive being stuck alone, working on case files and reading news headlines. Today's news was singing the praises of Wayne Enterprises for their massive donations to research centers, the city, and for them paying for housing and healthcare for homeless. They were also praising Bruce for personally paying for the Covid testing and for paying for food and housing costs for those who couldn't afford it. Bruce had enough money to do so, so he might as well, right?

Amusingly, Tim had seen a headline from Star City about Red Hood and Arsenal highjacking a supply truck full of toilet paper and medical supplies and redistributing it among the poor and homeless, as well as stealing from some stores and making care packages for the homeless.

But now, his idiot boyfriends, severely upsetted by the fact that their Thursday date night had been cancelled, were texting and calling him non-stop, trying to convince him to let them come, finding out if he needed anything ("do you have food?" "Yes, Kon." "I'm talking real food, Tim. Not some Rice Krispies and a few boxes of cereal." "Conner."), and constantly fretting over him. Did he mention they kept whining about missing date night? Well they did. Even the suggestion that they could still hang out with each other didn't appease them. ("But we need our Robin! Our birdie!")

Tim Drake was a smart man. He was a good detective. If he had been at the manor, he'd probably be working with Bruce to develop faster testing, or figure out cures. But what Tim forgot, is how truly, truly, dumb his boyfriends are.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised to hear his door open on Thursday evening.

But yet, he was.

He shot up off his sofa, spinning towards the door. He hadn't changed in a day, and probably hadn't showered in three. His apartment was a mess and honestly he didn't remember what he had for breakfast that day. But yet he grabbed the nearest thing to him, an empty metal waterbottle, and brandished it as a weapon.

"Oh, I'm so scared," a chipper voice said, with a laugh.

"Bart?!" Tim exclaimed, half in shock and anger.

Standing in the entry way of his apartment was Bart Allen and Conner Kent. Conner was carrying several bags of groceries, and Bart had a couple jugs of milk and juice.

"What are you two doing?!" Tim hissed, glaring.

"Uh, visiting, duh?"

Bart zipped to the fridge, putting up his jugs, and then dumping a backpack that Tim hadn't noticed earlier onto the floor.

"Bart," Tim said, his tone dropping to his more commanding, Robin voice.

He noted Kon was also carrying a duffel bag. The man just smiled and then turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Nonono, I know what's going on here, you two aren't staying."

"Why not? We can't get it, and you're just gonna . . ." Bart motioned at the messy living room. "Besides, what if we quarantine ourselves with you."

"Well, because! Because. . . " Tim scowled at him.

He was starting to lose his energy to argue. And he was getting pretty lonely. And this . . . He wasn't wrong either. They could just quarantine together. . . 

"And also, now if you need something, one of us can just zip over to metropolis and pick it up, or go do laundry at Clark and Lo's," Kon called from the kitchen.

"And if you do get sick! You'll have us to look after you!" Bart exclaimed, zipping over and kissing Tim before he could protest.

Tim glared at him from just a few inches away, then at Conner, who had moved to the doorway. They both just grinned at him.

"Fine. Fine! You can stay!" He exclaimed, defeated.

Bart whooped and kissed Tim again.

"Okay, first things first. You need to take a shower, man," Bart told him, wrinkling his nose. "Or else no cuddles."

Tim, touch starved as always, found himself immediately hating that idea.

"Also, we need to clean this place up. So, you go shower and brush your teeth and shave and stuff - or don't shave - and Kon and I will clean up and start supper!"

Tim huffed at him, but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom, stopping by Conner first to give him a quick kiss. Kon just grinned and pulled him in close, tweaking Tim's nose before kissing him. Then he shoved Tim towards the bathroom.

He went through the bedroom first, snagging some clean clothes, and then went into the bathroom. He quickly stripped and showered, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly, he shaved when he got out, and quickly brushed his teeth as instructed, because frankly, he didn't remember the last time he had done that and didn't want to make his boyfriends deal with that. 

When he got back out, admittedly feeling a little better, he noted Bart and Kon's bags on his bed. He just sighed and shook his head, walking back to the main room. He could already smell the tomatoey scents of Italian food, and wondered what all those two had actually brought with them. There was some form of pop music playing, and he could hear Bart happily singing along to it, Kon chiming in occasionally with the choruses. Tim chuckled and looked around the living room. 

They had cleaned up trash and dishes and fixed the pillows on the sofa. The curtains had been opened, and a candle was burning on the coffee table and all the glasses and mugs and plates had been removed. Tim walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Bart dart around and cook, while Kon washed dishes.

"This that hot girl bummer anthem. Turn it up and throw a tantrum~" Bart sang, doing a little dance as he darted from the fridge back to the stove, throwing a few things into a sauce.

"What are you making?" Tim asked softly, but they both heard him.

"Hey! He's clean!" Bart announced cheerfully. "And I am making lasagna! Max's special recipe."

Tim hummed in response, grinning back at the speedster.

"So are you two going to eat me out of house and home by the end of tomorrow, or?"

Kon shot Tim a smirk. "Depends."

"Ugh, Kent! I meant food!"

Conner laughed, rinsing one last dish before drying his hands, walking over and pulling Tim up against his front.

"I never said that wasn't what I meant, did I?"

"No. . . But with you there's always some kind of innuendo."

Kon huffed in mock annoyance, before ducking his head and gently kissing Tim a few times. Tim tilted his face up and obliged, wrapping his arms around Kon's neck.

"I missed you," Kon mumbled lightly, his hands sneaking up Tim's soft cotton shirt that may or may not have belonged to Kon at some point.

"I missed you too," Tim responded instinctually, not really realizing exactly how true that was.

"Then why didn't you let us come sooner?" Bart's voice asked and then he was slipping between their arms, sandwiching himself between them.

Tim laughed, giving the pouting Bart a few kisses, turning him from pouty Bart to smiley Bart.

"Because I didn't want you guys getting sick."

"Tim we literally can't."

"Did you confirm that?"

"Yeah. I called Lex and asked. And you know as well as I do that Bart can't get sick from these things."

Tim sighed, looking down at Bart, then up at Kon. "Well either way, it's too late now."

Once the lasagna was in the oven, Bart made Tim help him finish cleaning, sweeping floors and dusting things, meanwhile Kon just sat by and gave unhelpful commentary and got occasionally whacked with cleaning supplies. Once the apartment was properly cleaned, and feeling much better, they decided to properly move Bart and Kon into Tim's room, even though they had stated they'd probably be leaving to get more clothes and such. And probably their dogs. 

Tim sat on his bed and watched them unpack bathroom supplies and clothes and other various personal items. Phone chargers got plugged in his few remaining wall outlets and things got shoved into previously neat areas.

"Were you really gonna stay here all by your lonesome?" Bart asked, flopping down onto the bed next to Tim and idly bumping his thigh with his knee.

"It wouldn't have been forever, Bart. I was probably gonna go to the manor eventually."

"Ew, and be around your brothers?"

"They are my family, Bart."

"I know but still. . . "

Tim chuckled and shook his head fondly, moving to lay partially over Bart and softly kiss him.

"Wait, is Keystone even in quarantine yet?"

"Uhhh." Bart grinned sheepishly.

"Bartholomew!"

Bart just giggled a little. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to come too!"

Tim just shook his head and then dropped it to Bart's chest, laying on him and listening to his breathing.

"Hey, this looks like a cuddle pile in the making."

Both of them groaned when Kon flopped - gently - on top of Tim. 

"Kon you big lug! Get off!" Tim whined, pushing up on his hands and knees, trying to dislodge Kon, who didn't move.

"Why, I thought you liked cuddle piles?" Kon giggled out, nuzzling at Tim's neck and causing him to squeak.

"Not when I'm being squished!"

Kon gave an over dramatic groan, but moved, rolling and pulling them both on top of him. It took a bit of squirming before they were comfortable, one on either side of Kon, heads on his shoulder, hands clasped on top of his stomach. They laid there and chatted idly, with no concern for anything that might interrupt their lives.

"Bart the oven is going off."

And just like that, Bart was gone. A couple seconds passed, then he was back, snuggling right up against Kon again.

"Where were we?"

Both Kon and Tim just started laughing.

Once dinner was ready, they sat on the sofa and binged a couple episodes of Broadchurch before settling into another cuddle pile. Their default form was cuddle pile. Then eventually Bart got bored with sitting still, so they turned on Mario Kart, played a few normal rounds to watch Kon and Bart suffer, then Tim turned on the mod he had made to make the game go super fast. 

He had learned not to watch the screen while this was happening. That's how you got eye damage.

"I'm gonna go do a little patrolling," Kon said, standing after Bart had beat him, again.

"Oh. Okay. Be careful, give a call if you need any help," Tim said, looking up from his laptop.

"Yeah, if I need anything, I'll call Bart."

"Kon."

"Hey, you're grounded, remember?"

Tim sighed, stretching up so Kon could kiss him. Kon chuckled and did so, then bent over the back of the sofa to kiss Bart, before disappearing into the bedroom to change. Then he called a goodbye on the way out the window. Tim and Bart looked at each other.

"So what are we doing then?"

Tim shrugged vaguely and looked back at his laptop.

"Well I'm gonna keep playing my game then."

"Okay."

Bart left him alone for a solid twenty minutes, which was a bit of a record for him, then he was tugging on Tim's laptop, trying to steal it.

"Yes, Bart?"

"I wanna cuddle."

"Cuddle?"

Bart's silence cause Tim to look over, and found he was pouting. Tim chuckled and saved his files, setting the laptop on the floor, then moving so his back was on an armrest, and opened his arms for Bart. Bart practically dove forwards, laying between Tim's legs, head on his chest, arms around his stomach. Tim chuckled and adjusted a bit for his own comfort, then let himself relax with Bart.

Eventually they turned on a movie and just laid together, idly chatting. There would be plenty of time for work later, Tim decided. But for now, he'd spend time with Bart. He may be stuck with these two for months before restrictions laxed, but he would take every moment he could, just to spend time with them while he could.

Kon got back after a few hours, stumbling back through the window, and giving them a grin, but he didn't come over, just walked away into the bathroom, leaving the scent of soot and acid in his wake.

"He's stinky," Bart remarked, still laying on Tim's chest.

"Hmmn, stinky boy."

Bart sniggered. Tim had, at some point, set his laptop on Bart's ass and was still working. Was it the most effective or romantic? No. But Bart didn't mind and it was keeping Tim from getting bored. 

Then his phone started ringing.

"Bart, grab that for me please?"

Bart quickly grabbed the phone from the coffee table before immediately settling back into place.

"Yello?"

"Hey, Timmy."

"Hi Dick, what's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to check in and see how things were going with you."

Tim glanced down at Bart.

"I'm okay."

"Yeah? Just hanging out and working on cases, I assume?"

"Yeah, I'm working on that March case."

Dick hummed from across the line.

"Well, are you sure you don't want to come to the manor?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Honestly I'm surprised you're there. I thought you'd be with Wally?"

There was a pause. 

"I was going to, but he got directly exposed the day before he was supposed to come down, and he didn't want to risk it until he discovered if speedsters could actually catch it."

"Hmmn, I have it on good authority they can't."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"They're there with you, aren't they?"

Tim just grinned, even though Dick couldn't see it. His brother laughed.

"Tim, you scoundrel."

"Listen, I told them no, they wouldn't listen to me, and then when they showed up, it was too late because Bart like, immediately kissed me."

"Hell yeah I did."

Dick just laughed again. Tim could envision him fondly shaking his head.

"So, I'll let you go then, I'm sure you guys have some catching up to do, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my god, shut up," Tim laughed out, even as he started playing with Bart's hair.

"Just speaking the truth!"

"Goodbye, Dick."

"Bye, Timmy! Love you, stay safe!"

"You too!"

Tim hung up the phone and let it fall to the ground beside the sofa.

"Oh good, you're off. I didn't want to come do this with your brother still on the phone."

Tim tilted his head back to see a shirtless Kon standing over him, grinning, hair still dripping slightly from his shower. He bent down and deeply kissed Tim. Tim gave a surprised noise and reached a hand up, resting it on Kon's jaw. When he pulled away, leaving Tim breathless, he just grinned mischievously, then moved so he was closer to Bart.

"Bartie."

"Hmmn?" When the ginger picked his head up, Kon kissed him the same.

Bart just grinned at him after, and put his head back on Tim's chest.

"Do you guys want a snack, because I'm starving."

Tim watched Kon walk away, and just had to laugh.

It was lucky the three of them were huge cuddlers, because otherwise they would not have fit in Tim's queen sized bed. Not with Kon's huge shoulders. After their snacks, Bart had to literally steal Tim's laptop, and then Kon decided to carry him to the bathroom to get ready for bed, instead of just letting him walk.

As the three of them laid in bed, a few minutes later, more focused on lazily kissing then actually sleeping, Tim decided that if he was going to be quarantined anywhere, being in his apartment with his amazing, dumb, loving boyfriends couldn't be the worst solution. And it was, by far, preferable over going to the manor. So he would happily keep his mouth shut and let them fret over him. Because he loved them. And they loved him.

@core-disaster-week-2020 originally written for @unknownunseenunheard !!

[halothenthehorns]

MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY

Remus did not look pleased one little bit about accepting the book. He hated how they'd grown almost content, getting so many pleasant chapters in a row and then the huge finale of the Cup, just to have such a terrible one right after. He was terrified the trend would continue, but being afraid of something had never actually stopped him from doing anything, let alone in regards to a book, so he kept going.

Arthur woke them all very early the next morning, packed down the tents with magic, and only gave a vague wave to Mr. Roberts as they passed, while he called out a cheerful 'Merry Christmas!'

Lily's mind flickered back to her earlier worry that to many memory charms couldn't be good for him, and to have something so powerful taken away as well, oh she really hoped he would be okay.

Mr. Weasley spotted Harry's concerned look and promised he would be fine, some people got a little hazy with such a large memory being altered. When they reached the sight to collect their Portkey, there was already a huge queue all clamoring to get out of there at once.

"Cannot blame them," Remus sighed.

Arthur managed to get his way to the front, have a quick conversation with Basil, and returned back with a Portkey to take them home.

"Least they didn't have to wait on the Diggory's," Sirius sniffed.

    They walked back down the hill with little spirit, too tired to do much of anything, but were all caught off guard by a shrill voice shouting in gratitude they'd returned.

"Molly," they all muttered in surprise, considering the time it was a wonder she was awake, but even more surprising was that this reaction meant she knew what had happened already.

Upon reflection though, the four of them weren't that surprised, the Daily Prophet was known for staying on top of the news, though not always in the best light.

Molly was sprinting up the drive towards the lot of them, colliding first with her husband and dropping her newspaper in the process, which fell to the ground letting Harry read the title explaining that terror had happened at the Cup, including a photo of the Dark Mark.

Mrs. Weasley was still sobbing into her husband's shoulder, but quickly turned watery eyes to check and make sure all were still present, before her eyes caught sight of the twins and she latched an arm around each neck and pulled them in, crashing their heads together.

"Ooh," Lily sighed, completely understanding why she'd feel particularly awful for those two.

"Think now would be a good time to drop the bomb they won a gambling bet," Sirius smiled weakly, "I don't think they'd get in quite as much trouble for it."

Lily shot him a look, but as his joking tone hadn't quite smothered his own happiness at the scene, she didn't say anything.

The twins tried to protest their treatment, but Molly kept crying into them now that she felt terrible the last thing she'd done before they'd left was yell about their O.W.L.'s!

"This is really sweet," Remus smiled widely without a trace a humor.

"Bet it only lasts a day before they find some new way to tick her off," James chuckled, not really able to pick up his own poking fun at the situation.

Arthur finally managed to detach his wife from her kids and convince her to come inside so he could explain things to her, muttering at Bill as he passed to grab that paper so he could read it. Once Mrs. Weasley had calmed, Arthur did indeed read the print and found it full of the wrongdoings on the Ministry's part at the Cup.

"All the standard tosh of the paper," Sirius snorted.

He demanded of no one who had written it, then seemed to catch sight of the name Rita Skeeter.

Harry felt a vile shot of annoyance at once, a scowl appearing when he heard that name, but it was diminished as always when Remus kept reading so he chose not to pay it any attention.

Percy at once jumped in at how furious that woman made him, how she'd gone on about his useless report and had instead been trying to say they should be out hunting down vampires, going on to list the Guideline specifically explaining why this wasn't even a thing, when Bill cut him off by politely asking him to shut up.

Causing all four boys to crack up laughing, they were all liking Bill more and more as this kept on.

Mr. Weasley hadn't even been listening and had kept at the paper, stating in surprise he'd been referenced. Mrs. Weasley choked on her tea in shock, saying she hadn't seen that, and Arthur quickly corrected it hadn't been by name, just his passing comment saying that nothing had happened that night.

"There was no more information to give," Lily scoffed.

Rita Skeeter had added her own thoughts to that saying it probably wouldn't be enough to squash the rumors about bodies later being removed, causing Arthur to scoff that now she'd said that there certainly would be rumors.

"Why do I get the feeling Arthur has previous experience with this writer?" Sirius asked.

"She certainly sounds more like a tabloid then a reporter," Remus grumbled.

Arthur gave one last heavy sigh before telling his family he'd have to run into the office because of this. Percy agreed he'd come, he could hand Crouch his report on cauldron bottoms in person.

"I'm sure that'll be the highlight of his day," James sneered.

Percy sprinted up the stairs without another word, while Molly tried to protest Arthur's leaving, saying he'd just gotten home, and this had nothing to do with his department. Arthur gently corrected her he may have made things worse.

"No one in the Ministry would know it was Arthur who said that," Lily arched a brow in surprise. "This Rita person could have pulled that comment out of the air."

"Arthur really doesn't have a reason to feel so responsible," James nodded in agreement, "he didn't do anything wrong."

Arthur left for a quick change of clothes, and Harry couldn't hold in the question anymore of whether he'd gotten mail while he was away.

They all eagerly shut their trap in hopes Molly would say yes to that one.

Molly distractedly said nothing had come in.

Then they started to get a little fidgety, all eyes flickering to Sirius and away. Sirius tried for a scoff, scolding all of them, "oh relax, just because I haven't responded already," he hesitated for a moment, wavering and trying to come up with a reason for himself, before asking Harry, "how long did it usually take me to reply?"

"Less than two weeks," Harry gave a shrug he didn't really feel.

"See," Sirius really did relax back this time. "I haven't even gotten his letter yet, are you lot really going to be freaking out the day I'm late?"

'Yes' was the collective mental answer all of them had, but none of them bothered to answer him aloud. They'd take the paranoia and be wrong with relief every time than think for even a second Sirius had been captured, none of them could stand another year like the last one.

Harry's two friends looked curiously at him, and he heavily suggested he go dump his stuff in Ron's room. Ron and Hermione agreed that would be a good idea and came along.

"Absolutely subtle," Sirius started to snicker, then switched to scowling at his two friends when they wouldn't quite watching him with unease. If they didn't lighten up he was going to have to start doing something drastic.

They waited until they reached the privacy of Ron's room before demanding of Harry what that had been about, and he finally told them of his scar hurting a few days ago. Their reactions were near perfect to how Harry had predicted them.

"It's good you know your friends so well," James muttered, finally turning away from Sirius. He wasn't done worrying about him yet, and frankly he wouldn't be until his name was cleared, but at least this was a mildly entertaining distraction.

Ron began demanding to know that You-Know-Who hadn't been around Harry this time, right?

Lily really did start laughing at that. Harry's spot on imaginary Ron had been perfect.

Harry agreed he was sure no one was there who shouldn't be, but it was strange. His dream had been about Wormtail,

Remus managed to spit out that name with the same amount of contempt he would have with the word Mudblood, or werewolf, or a number of things he wished he'd never in his life have to mention again.

saying he couldn't clearly remember details anymore, but they'd been talking about murdering...someone.

"I get the feeling they could have filled in that blank," James mumbled, wiggling just that little bit closer to his son no matter how stupid he may have deemed it in retrospect.

He hadn't been able to say the word 'me' because Hermione looked more than terrified enough.

Lily was doing a remarkable reenactment of that expression now, and she had the knowledge Harry was going to be fine. It was still making Harry feel just as bad for his mum as his friend, but was unable to help soothe either of them.

Ron tried to comfort all of them it had just been a nightmare though, nothing to worry about, but Harry disagreed. Stating how odd these coincidences were, his scar had hurt, and three days later Voldemort's sign appeared in the sky.

"Why, why on earth can't we just have one year where we don't even have to mention Voldemort's name?" Remus groused.

"Because my life would be too boring otherwise," Harry muttered.

Ron snapped at Harry not to say You-Know-Who's real name, but Harry ignored him as always. Reminding them of Trelawney's prediction last year.

"Haven't been able to forget it yet, but thanks for the reminder," Sirius muttered, that prophecy had nearly been his undoing, and even when he'd found out it hadn't related to him it was not a pleasant look back.

That finally distracted Hermione from her fear, giving a huffy laugh at Harry for believing anything she said.

"You never told them she made a real prophecy?" James asked in surprise.

"Never got around to it," Harry shrugged, giving Sirius an absent nudge as he said, "had some other stuff on my mind that night, and then I was trying to forget about it there at the end."

Sirius though had something much more entertaining to say as he gave his best friend a superior smirk and demanded, "so you do admit prophecies are real now?"

"Can't hardly deny it when Harry had one smacked in his face," Remus sighed, already being able to tell where this was headed by Sirius' pompous tone.

"Then you owe me years of apologizes for calling me a loon in believing in them," Sirius crowed, his smile stretching wider every second as he glanced from one friend to the other. "Go on, I want to hear you say it now. Prophecies exist!"

"Oh knock it off Snuffles," Harry sighed, for some reason the idea of Sirius talking about this was setting him on edge, but even as he finished he ended on a pained hiss and went cross eyed, trying to understand why he'd call Sirius that. After blinking away a few bright spots, he saw he wasn't the only one.

"Now why would you know that name?" Remus asked first. "I only called him that a half a dozen times, back in our fourth year."

"I've never heard this one," James raised an even more surprised brow at his two friends.

Sirius shrugged with nonchalant as he said, "it was during our Christmas break, and I got a head cold. Kept sneezing and body parts kept randomly turning into a dog, we didn't master our transformations until fifth year," Sirius added on for Harry. "Remus kept laughing about it every time and started calling me Snuffles all week. By the time you," he broke off with an old wince at the fact he couldn't add on the other name without substituting a swear word, "got back, the joke had died off."

Harry nodded in understanding, but none of this answered their original question, why on earth Harry would know any of that. The whole matter had successfully distracted both Sirius and Harry though, so Remus decided to keep reading now while he still could.

Harry defended the Divination teacher though, saying it had definitely been a real prediction this time, even quoting the parts about the Dark Lord's return, reminding the end results had been Wormtail's escape that night.

Now Remus regretted it and wanted to go back to admitting Sirius had been right about something, it was certainly easier to stomach then thinking on that. Through a red haze he glanced up and saw the other four were a mask of boiling hatred again, so Remus collected himself and put on the most tragic face he could muster as he said, "alright Padfoot, I admit, you were right about prophecies. Never again shall I argue with your unending knowledge, about this," he quickly tacked on, already knowing he was going to regret giving in the moment Sirius attempted to replace his bloodlust with a satisfied smirk. It didn't really work, his jaw was still clenched too tightly for the expression to look natural, but the fact he even attempted a smile made it feel worth it to Remus.

No one could think of anything else to add until Hermione again asked about Hedwig. Harry said he'd written a letter to Sirius asking about this, and Ron agreed at once that was a great idea, he'd have an answer for them.

"Why on earth would they think that?" James demanded at once, far more up for pestering his best mate then giving in to him. "You hardly know the difference between Devil's Snare and Mandrakes."

"Oi," Sirius hooted. "What's those evil little plants got to do with knowing about this Dark stuff? I know plenty about that, more than you."

James looked like he was about to keep pressing in, with a highly amused audience of Remus and Harry, but Lily gave Remus a hard nudge and waved him on, still wanting to get through this chapter more then watch them snip at each other no matter how much it made her feel better.

Harry agreed, though expressed he was worried he'd thought Sirius would reply by now. Hermione reminded they had no idea how far away he was, it would take longer than just three days. Harry agreed with a heavy sigh.

James kept his superior expression in place even as that feeling of jealousy returned, still wishing in vain he could have replaced that sentence with his own name.

Ron quickly changed the subject by offering Harry to come play Quidditch, he knew all of his brothers would join in, and Harry could try the Wronski Feint.

"Oh that's a brilliant idea," Lily sighed, "because one life or death experience isn't enough for you in a twenty-four hour period."

"Stop exaggerating Lily," Sirius snickered, "Quidditch is good for him, helps him work out the nerves."

Hermione snapped at him in a 'I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive' sort of voice

"I get the feeling she has to use that voice often," Remus chuckled.

by saying Harry didn't want to play Quidditch now,

"Oh yes he does," Harry laughed, the idea of trying out that move again now still present.

that he should want to go to bed, but Harry interrupted that a game sounded fun.

"Best to cut her off before she could keep going like that," James snickered, "she'd be tucking you into bed before you knew it."

He went rummaging for his Firebolt as Hermione stomped out muttering about 'boys.'

"I'm sure there were some other things mixed in there," Lily rolled her eyes, on complete agreement with Hermione on that.

The narrative jumps in by saying that for the next week, neither Percy nor Arthur were home much. Percy could be heard saying over dinner the Sunday before they were due back at school how the place was in an uproar in a pompous, superior tone.

"I swear that's the description you give after everything he says," Sirius snorted.

"And he doesn't deserve it one bit," Remus agreed.

People kept sending Howlers complaining of what all had happened, and wanting reimbursement for their stuff. One Mundungus Fletcher was wanting compensation for his twelve-bedroom tent that had been destroyed, but Percy knew for a fact he'd been sleeping under his own cloak.

"What an idiot," Lily scoffed, "did he really think he could get away with that?"

"I've heard of stupider things he's tried," James shrugged.

Unlike before, where he'd still felt to unsure to hardly even speak up, Harry had no qualms this time inserting himself into the conversation and asking, "how do you guys know him?" In hopes to ease some of the pressure in his skull telling him he should know that name anyways.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's," Remus shrugged, "does a lot of things for the Order most members either can't, or won't do because they don't have the same ah, connections."

"Friend is putting it lightly," Sirius snorted. "Dumbledore keeps bailing him out from the stupider crimes he gets caught doing, so Mundungus does whatever he asks." Then he turned to Harry and put much more bluntly, "he's a criminal, never made an honest living in his life, but he's pretty fun to have around. Dung's always been good for a laugh, and he can get you some really cheap things most won't normally go after."

"You are not endearing me," Harry finally laughed to show he'd gotten the message. All of this helped somewhat, he was now quite sure this was the same way he knew the same man, but there was still something missing. A connection he was sure he had to the name, but of course that wouldn't come to him.

Molly was not paying attention to the conversation, glancing repetitively at the clock where all of the Weasley family's names had replaced the hands, and instead of numbers it indicated such things as work, traveling, or home,

"I love that," Lily said instantly, her eyes brightening with want.

"I wonder how they got ahold of that," James ruffled up his brow thoughtfully, his mind already spinning with the idea he'd like to recreate that for his family, that nasty little pang reminding him of the count of hands he'd have now rather than if he'd heard about this just a week ago.

"It was an anniversary present for Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, "I think Mr. Weasley made it, though I have no idea how."

"Fascinating," Lily said honestly, adding this to her growing list of things she had a mind to say to the Weasleys when she planned to meet them in person.

"I do wonder though," Remus said with some surprise, "why she was so worried about her family if she had that. It would have said whether anything bad had happened to them."*

"There's a difference in a clock telling you, and seeing them in person," Lily said mildly.

"Besides," Sirius shrugged, "considering the time they arrived back, I'll bet you she just saw that paper and sprinted out the back to wait, I don't think that would have crossed her mind till later, and they came back soon enough she didn't have time to check."

as well as lost, hospital, prison,

Lily couldn't help but snort, thinking 'oh that's lovely.'

and, mortal peril.

"Sounds handy," Sirius snickered.

"That's where your hand would be all year," Lily shot back.

Sirius went wide eyed and pressed his hand to his heart as he cooed at her, "awe, Lily, you'd put my name up there?"

"Don't flatter yourself," she tried to say with a straight face, though the effect was ruined by her twitching lips.

All of the hands but Arthur's currently pointed at home, while his was at work. Mrs. Weasley gave a heavy sigh as she said to no one in particular that he hadn't been working this much since the time of You-Know-Who.

"Why would Mr. Weasley's job be involved in that?" Harry asked in surprise. "If he just informs people about what Muggle stuff is?"

Lily wasn't a hundred percent sure herself, as she'd personally never even spoken to Arthur in real life, and only had a vague idea of where his office even was in the Ministry, but she knew for a fact she had to send owls down there all the time for other things besides just what a Muggle object was so she offered, "it's a bit more than that dear. I don't think you quite realize how often wizards, mistakenly or not, involve themselves in Muggle affairs. Whatever any department does, Arthur would have to make sure to check it over and make sure it doesn't interfere with anything to do with Muggles. This Dark Mark business," Lily heaved a huge sigh in sympathy for the Ministry falling into even a portion of the pandemonium it was on a daily basis to her in this timeline, "it causes all sorts of mayhem at the Ministry to keep that sort of thing under wraps from the Muggles no matter how far away they were. All those wizards panicking and fleeing the scene for instance, apparating away in their panic and landing in Muggle neighborhoods for instance, could have shocked any number of them, you see where I'm going?" She finished with an expectant look.

Harry nodded in understanding, his sympathy for the Weasley patriarch suddenly doubling.

Saying his job was working him to hard, and his dinner would be ruined by the time he got here. Percy said that his father had brought this on himself with his mistake.

James's mouth opened with a little pop as he gasped, "is Percy really agreeing with the Ministry over his own father with that nonsense?"

"What a little prat," Sirius nodded with a heavy scowl in place.

Saying he shouldn't have said anything until he'd spoken with his Head of Department about the press,

"He is the Head of his Department," Remus snapped, stunned that he was defending Arthur from one of his own kids. Bloody hell, he remembered this random snap of information from when Ron had said it two books ago! How could Percy be acting like this?

Lily had always had the most sympathy for Percy, she found his position in the family more sad than annoying like the rest of the boys seemed to, but even she was getting a little fiery over the way he was acting now, there was no excuse of taking your jobs side over your family's.

Harry's thoughts were in perfect alignment with his mother's, wondering why on earth all of this Percy talk felt like a bad omen.

but Molly cut him off with a snap that Percy was not going to sit there and blame his father for whatever Skeeter had caused! Bill agreed with his mother, saying if their dad hadn't said anything, Skeeter would have just said no one at the Ministry had bothered to give a comment, all while keeping his eyes on the chessboard he was playing with Ron on.

That was a quick distraction, all of them vividly remembering the last time Ron had been mentioned playing chess, at least this time the pieces weren't life sized.

Harry gave a happy smile at this, saying, "Bill was the only one who could play Ron and actually be a threat to him."

Still going on to say that she didn't like anyone, she'd done some interviews of the Curse Breakers once, and she'd called him a 'long-haired pillock.'

"Well this woman's just getting more and more charming," Remus scoffed.

Molly couldn't seem to help herself as she did agree it was getting a bit long, but Bill cut her off with a quick no.

"I get the feeling that must be a daily occurrence," Sirius snorted, brushing his hair out of his own face.

Rain was pouring down outside, the cozy little scene in the living room displaying all of them sitting around in comfort working on something. Charlie was currently tending a fireproof balaclava,

"Why would he need to fix a fireproof anything?" Harry asked in surprise, having been too invested in his own project at the time to ask.

"It can still get worn out even when it's not set on fire," Lily shrugged, "I'm sure Charlie has to do that on his own all the time, considering how little he's home."

Harry was polishing his Firebolt, and the twins were off in the corner muttering over a piece of paper.

"Subtle," James snorted, thinking they'd at least have the sense to make more order forms outside of their mother's point of view.

"I think they're just asking for another argument," Remus nodded.

Molly seemed to notice this at the same time as Harry, as she snapped at her twins what they were up to? Fred responded at once with homework.

"Right," Sirius exaggerated the word to the extreme.

Mrs. Weasley scolded they were still on holiday, and George agreed they'd just left it a bit late.

"Now that I'll believe," Lily snorted.

She was still glaring at them as she demanded to know if those were more to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?

"Can't restart what they never gave up on," Remus smirked, as clearly no matter what their mother said, those two had this in the works for some time.

Fred turned hurt filled eyes on her, reminding that if the Hogwarts express crashed tomorrow and they died, did she really want to pick an argument with them about this?

Lily gave a small sigh, she didn't really think it was right to pick on their mother for that reaction she'd had, but it didn't erase her own laughter blending in with the boys at their picking.

Even Mrs. Weasley laughed at her son's picking, but then she quickly turned to excitement when she saw Arthur's hand finally switch from traveling, and then seconds later, home. She was already bustling towards the kitchen before Arthur could call out, and he came into the living room looking haggard. He picked listlessly at his meal as the told those around him that Skeeter was still causing all kinds of problems, now she'd found out about Bertha and that was going to be another Ministry blunder headline. Percy agreed Crouch had said weeks ago someone should go looking for her.

"Did he really need to add that?" Sirius muttered, fighting down the compulsion more with every line he spoke to smack Percy.

Arthur grumbled back they were just lucky Skeeter didn't know about Crouch's involvement with that Dark Mark business, that would be a headline for weeks.

"If that did happen, his grounds of clothing his elf would make a bit more sense," Sirius quirked a brow in surprise, "so I guess if you think about it, he was just doing that preemptively."

"I cannot believe you're really going back and saying that was okay," Lily balked at him.

Sirius rolled his eyes at her and said, "What? I still think they were over the line treating her like that, but we all know Crouch has such a large stick up his arse it's not really surprising he'd think that way. If you consider the way he is now, I wouldn't be surprised one little bit the second something Dark is connected to his name he'd throw it to the wolves."

"You're depressing me," Lily sighed, slumping back into the couch without argument for that.

Harry was getting a bubbling feeling in his gut, something in him telling him Sirius was very close to the mark and none of them realized it, but of course he couldn't begin to imagine details of what this was.

Percy was getting a temper now as he said everyone here had agreed Crouch had nothing to do with that!

James scoffed as he snapped, "I wouldn't be surprised if Percy just said that and no one argued with him. While yes he's right," he rolled his eyes, "you don't need to go shouting at them for it."

Hermione shot back Crouch was lucky the Prophet didn't know how he treated elves!

Sirius couldn't help a surprised little snort of laughter, that's what Hermione had caught on? No one else would bat an eye at that part.

Percy sighed at her, trying to defend his boss that such a man couldn't have disobedient servants, but Hermione hotly cut him off and corrected slave!

"Eh," James waved his hand vaguely, "I think Hermione's exaggerating the term a bit."

"I don't," Lily snapped at once. The more she heard about this, the more she was kicking herself or never having looked farther into it. "What's so different with house-elves, and treating people that same way?"

"The practice of house-elves being attached to wizarding families goes back centuries," Sirius rolled his eyes, "it's practically as common as wizards themselves."

"Just because it's old and traditional doesn't make it right," Lily ground out. "You're saying that these beings that are clearly as human as Remus shouldn't be treated the same."

"Hey," Remus yelped, "don't drag me into this." His eyes were getting wider the longer this dragged on, he actually began edging away from Lily as he sensed a true fight coming on and he did not want to be in the middle of this.

Sirius was clearly getting angry now, his glare actually holding some real threats of violence if she kept this up, she shouldn't have dragged Remus into this! His voice came out more of a growl now, "that's not fair and you know it. Don't you take a shot at him when they're two completely different things."

"How?" Lily insisted, her eyes narrowing clearly showing she wasn't going to back down one bit. "You tell me how treating something as lesser than you as a slave isn't that far off the mark how werewolves are treated, like a pariah."

"OKAY!" James finally got out louder than them. The baby in Lily's lap, already squirming in agitation at all of the raised voices, actually began wailing then, causing Lily to break away her glare and begin soothing her son, admittedly still more flushed than usual. James wasn't looking much better himself, alternately scowling at his wife for making Remus clearly so uncomfortable, and Sirius refusing to back down and just let the matter go. "You two knock it off, there's no since acting like this towards each other. Let Remus finish this chapter, then you two can have it out somewhere where we don't have to hear it."

Lily finally convinced baby Harry to stop crying by then, sitting back into her seat, and still throwing haughty looks at Sirius, which he was returning. Harry and his father exchanged an uneasy look, James had been hoping that someone cutting them off would make one of them admit it was time to let this go but that clearly wasn't the case. Remus still looked a little shell-shocked, but at a nod from James he decided to keep going.

Reminding that Winky hadn't been paid. Molly cut into the argument by telling her children to go upstairs and make sure everything was packed.

'I should take notes' Harry mentally thought, still frowning at all four of them. He'd seen them argue before, and he never liked to watch it.

Harry got to his feet and followed Ron up to his room, where Pigwidgeon set up a flutter when they came in. Ron threw him an owl treat to get him to shut up, and Harry watched the little owl with worry as he said it had been over a week since he'd seen his own.

"You said yourself she normally takes twice that long," James sighed, running his hand through his hair in agitation, as if he needed another thing to worry about.

"Well yeah, but I don't know. I was kind of hoping since this one was kind of urgent, he'd find a way to get a reply quicker," Harry offered with a shrug.

Harry then asked Ron with real worry if Sirius had been captured.

Lily's skin tone went back to normal, and then a few shades paler in shock. This was not the first, nor certainly the last, time she'd been ticked off at Sirius for some careless comment he made, but she was suddenly struck once again by this horrid future they were listening to and realizing these little spats they had may be numbered. It didn't completely erase her agitation towards him, but it certainly made the want of cursing him lessen.

Remus flinched as he got that out, but Sirius quickly jumped in and soothed them all with a smug smile, "oh please, those numbskulls couldn't find the broad side of a barn. There's no way they're going to find me."

"You're confidence is instilling," James muttered, unable entirely to stop his leg twitching in agitation.

Ron scoffed at the idea, saying that news would be plastered all over the papers.

"And there's that," Harry sighed, trying to show that had comforted him a lot more than it had. He really didn't like to think of Sirius being captured, it set him on edge in the worst way, though thankfully he wasn't getting any kind of feeling about this. So this must mean it never happened to him, right?

Harry agreed for now, and went about packing away his stuff, most of which were his new school books and some supplies Mrs. Weasley had gotten him while he was away, grateful she'd remembered his potion ingredients as he'd been running low on some.

Lily just couldn't seem to erase a frown from her face this chapter, the expression only increasing as she got her own shot of envy at Molly doing all of this for her son. She'd have loved nothing more than for the simple task of going to Diagon Alley for her son while he and his father went to that Cup, and this little reminder it had been someone else smarted more than she'd been expecting it to with her current mood.

Ron was at his own trunk, and made a disgusted noise of surprise as he pulled out a maroon dress with lacy cuffs.

That was such a random thing that Remus finally broke the bad vibe of the room with a snort of mirth, all five of them cracking a real smile at Ron for some deranged reason being handed a lacy dress-robe.

Molly entered at that moment with some last minute clothes for them, and Ron tried to hand the dress to her, saying he'd gotten something of Ginny's by mistake, but Molly corrected that it was for Ron, his new dress robes. Ron yelped in shock, and Molly said that's what their school supplies list had said they'd need this year.

"Wonder why," James said just a tad too loudly, hoping to keep on this laughing mood as long as possible. "Think Hogwarts is hosting a dance?"

Harry felt a buzz ring through him, somehow knowing his dad wasn't too far off, but also getting the impression it wasn't an event he was fond of.

"I think it would be a nice idea," Lily couldn't help a little smile now, warming to the idea the more she spoke. "Perhaps a Valentine's day thing, I always said Hogwarts should indulge in more school events."

"From memory, every time they've tried, it's been a disaster," Remus snickered. "I've heard tale of this one time they tried a school play over some fairytale novel, that didn't end well."

"Won't know until Harry gets there," Sirius cut in, perhaps still being a little more surely then was called for, but still too agitated to admit it.

Lily shot him another glare, she had been trying to play nice, but clearly Remus took that as a hint to move on now while he still could.

Ron was still balking at the material, stating he'd never wear a thing like this! Molly cut him off by saying everyone wore them, his own father had some.

"Just like that eh?" James raised a brow in surprise, forcing some good mood at Sirius whether he wanted it or not. "I'd like to see that, I'm sure seeing his father in lace would make Ron feel better."

Harry gave a happy laugh at the image, while Sirius did crack a smile for James's benefit.

Ron grumbled he'd show off his bum before he put that on.

"That'll be a day at Hogwarts," Remus snickered.

Mrs. Weasley snapped he was being silly, Harry had gotten some too.

Causing Sirius to really laugh this time, along with the other three, while Harry went beat red in surprise and fear for what this could mean.

Harry began digging through his stuff in surprise, but came up with something much closer to his school uniform, except it was dark green.

"Which is how most dress-robes look," James cackled. "So I don't know what was running through Molly's head with Ron in mind."

The smile trickled off of Lily just a bit though, not having to think hard on why the idea of Molly picking out that for Harry would give her a pang of sadness.

Ron saw it and snapped why he hadn't gotten something that looked more like that, and Molly couldn't help a faint blush as she said she hadn't a lot of choosing on her budget for Ron's.

Causing all of them to stop smiling at once. It wasn't so funny now that they realized that.

Harry looked away in shame, knowing he'd happily split all his money with the Weasleys,

"Wish I'd just done it, they couldn't argue the point once it's in there," Harry muttered, fidgeting in place.

but he knew they would never take it.

"That's why you don't ask permission," James smirked.

Ron snapped he refused to wear his, and Mrs. Weasley snapped he could just go ahead naked then. Asking Harry to make sure he got a picture, she needed a laugh!

"It's nice to see Molly with a sense of humor," Sirius sighed.

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her, and at that moment Pigwidgeon began choking on a too large treat. Ron was grumbling that everything he owned was rubbish as he went to go unstick his beak.

Remus closed the book uneasily, looking between Sirius and Lily like he still expected a bomb to go off, being as clear and silent as he could the chapter was over, then looking longing at the door like he wanted to make a run for it while he could.

HPHPHPHP

Forewarning you guys now, the next chapter won't actually be a chapter, but an actual argument between Lily and Sirius about the house-elf topic. I set it up to much to just have them keep avoiding it, and since it keeps coming up so much in this book I decided I'd get their views up and as clear as possible now.

Thank you all as always for your endless support of this fic! No spoilers but, Oh My God The Cursed Child! I'm thinking about waiting until the next reading chapter and posting my opinion on it, or do you think that's a little cocky? Do you guys even really care what I think about it?

*Question offered by maana999. If you guys have any questions, even from one of the older books, or just something you'd like to point out and seen discussed, I implore you to say something, I love them all!