#and i knew 11 inches was a lot but holy god; I did not know if was THAT much

[fyeahjeaninnocent]

[rcksmith]

Be good — Five Hargreeves.

Requests: “can i get car sex w/five and lots of praise kink tyyyy 💖💖”

“Hi! Could I request smut prompts 11, 22, and 29 as well as fluff 40 for five hargreeves? Ty!”

Smut prompts:

11. “She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.”

22. “I’m not going to touch you unless you beg.”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Fluff prompts:

40. “Come cuddle.”

A/N: We not tolerate any pedophilia here !!

I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter.

I hope you guys like💖I decided to compile these two requests, since they were the same energy and they prompts connect to a central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. Good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

Couple: Five Hargreeves / Fem! Reader.

Warnings: explicit smut, degradation, dirty talk, bad words, fluff.

— — — — —

Part of Five thought it was absurd to feel this way, so wrong. You were young, so young, with an adventurous face in your 20s and bright eyes. Full of life and with such a loose spirit. You had that cool breeze with a free soul, a bright smile and, holy mother of God, you had a body that would be the reason why he would be banished from paradise.

There was something about your youthful innocence that clenched Five's teeth, that made him clench fists to control the urges to touch you at any time. This irritated him deeply.

You were so... so... sweet.

So fucking sweet. From your summer dresses, your delicate mouth, doe eyes and silky hair. You looked like a fucking princess and Five wanted to destroy you for that. You didn't look real. It looked like it came out of a fairy tale and it hit something very deep in Five. Oh, he was burning in a very dangerous fire.

Worst of all, you always knew what you were doing with him. And the way you pretend you don't make him even more angry.

Five remembers the exact moment when he threw in the towel, stopped fighting that insane desire and kissed you as if you were the last glass of water in the desert. And all of this was caused by a trigger so simple, ridiculous to be honest.

He gave up control one afternoon, when you were playing cards with Klaus in the living room, you had just won and got up, saying that you were going to get your phone that you were carrying in another room.

“It's hard to try to be mad at her, she's so cute.” Klaus said to Five, making a gesture in the air that represented pinching your cheeks.

If Five's mood hadn't been bad before, it was bad now. He rolled his eyes, hiding the expression on lips when he took a sip of coffee.

“You should learn from her, who knows" Klaus shrugged “She is so nice and you are... well, you are you.” Klaus pointed to Five's entire body, in a teasing of brother.

The deadly look that Five gave his brother made Klaus laugh even more. God, he was an idiot!

“Doesn't she look like those little movie fairies?”

“Is annoying.” Five rolled his eyes.

“It’s cute.” Klaus defended you “But you know, I think it's just superficial.”

That caught Five's attention, and Klaus realized and started to explain.

“She told me that she likes some more ... crude things, if you know what I mean.” Oh, Five understood “She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but i bet behind closed doors she’s latex and whips.”

So Five was shipwrecked by Images of you. Tied to the bed, in white lingerie, your lips swollen from using that princess mouth of for something else. The giant wave invaded he mind like a ball of destruction, demolishing the entire barrier of self-control he had struggled to build. Brick by brick.

Five wanted to erase those images from his head, to exclude any universe in which you were on all fours for him, begging for more, with that fucking cute voice of yours.

But no matter how hard he tried, Klaus' words brought endless malicious situations that did not come out of Five’s mind.

So that's when he gave up. It was ridiculous to be controlling yourself like a puritan, like a stupid little boy who didn't know what to do.

And Five knew exactly what wanted to do to you.

Then, that afternoon, he disappeared in front of Klaus in the blue flash and reappeared in the room you were in. You must have said something, but Five didn't hear it, or didn't want to hear it. He just walked up to you, put his hands on your waist and kissed you with all the desire that the world had.

He barely touched you and you were already a modeling clay in he hands, sighing with strong touches, with raw kisses, purring like a kitten.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive." Five whispered against your mouth before he kissed you again.

Five Hargreeves thought that fucking you once would placate that sickly fire that was inside him. But it didn't placate, in fact, it was like pouring gasoline on the fire.

Everything inside him became wilder, more hungry, needy. And that was why he was there, fucking you hard in the car, on an abandoned street.

You moaned loudly, the top of your little red summer dress lowered, exposing your breasts that bounced as you slipped on Five's lap. The air was caustic and pungent, the two of you gasped, sighed, let out toxic and broken moans.

Their bodies clashed as if the world was going to end in that second, and Five did not have the strength to squeeze your hips, pulling you down and up with brutality, pushing him dick deeper into you with every bounce you gave.

“So fucking tight!” He snarled, lowering his left hand to your ass, lifting the fabric of the dress and slapping you.

You contained the cry, pressing your lips against him neck, the tears already burning in your eyes. Five don't slow down the ruthless pace, fucking you with the fury of an animal, as if I've never fucked you before.

“Such a good pussy!” He hand let go of your skin to wrap his fingers in your hair on the back of neck, pulling your face into his, making you receive the moans against your mouth. “I can't get enough of eating you! Good fucking slut!”

You could see the anger, desire, lust and wildness in he eyes. Five wanted to destroy you and, god, you loved it. You let go of that innocent and mysterious smile that left him even more out of control, and Five slapped you down again, but now on your left cheek.

“Don't look like that to me!” He pulled your chin up at him "Otherwise, you're going to get out of here without being able to walk right!"

But it was logical that you did not hear. Truth be told, you were a fucking tease. You liked the game, the hunt, the adrenaline. You liked to play with fire, and Five Hargreeves was not just a flame, but the entire fire.

“Do... do what D-daddy?” You used your best voice, seeing he anger and lust spilling out of he green eyes.

Then you gave that smile again, more neat, more painful and more innocent, and Five snarled like a wild animal that has just come out of captivity. He immediately took you off his lap, taking he dick out of you.

“Go to the fucking backseat. Now!”

You obeyed, going to the backseat and placing yourself on all fours, resting your chest on the seat while lifting your hips.

“You already know how to stand. You are is a little slut, really!” Then a loud slap came on your ass, and you bit your palm to keep from screaming.

“D...Daddy!” You whined.

Five pinned your hair up in a ponytail with he hand, pulling your body back until it was glued and glued to his.

"I'm not going to touch you unless you beg." He snarled in your ear, the hot temperature of he dick an inch from your needy center.

“Please!” You cried “I'm go to be b-good! I promise, daddy!”

“Beg!” One more slap.

“Please!” You rummaged your hips, trying to make any contact. “Please!”

Then Five entered you. Strong, rough, badly and aggressive. He barely gave you time to moan before he started hitting your fragile walls, flooding your eyes with tears that flowed. It was too much stimulation, too much strength, too much desire that made your body want to scream. You and Five had a security password, but you were too horny to want to use it because of the pain.

“So fucking good tis pussy!” Five kept his hand firmly in your hair and the other on your hips, pulling you to his dick. “You have to be a desperate slut to give it to me in the car, don't you?” another slap “Such a needy little slut.”

“Yes, d-daddy!”

Then he continued, relentless. You turned your face to see him, and that was even more of a discharge of electricity between your legs.

Five's coal-black hair was sweaty, clinging to his forehead, with a few droplets running down his firm face. He was without a suit, his shirt wrinkled and unbuttoned, his sleeves rolled up, exposing his vein-streaked arms, marking the white skin that was covered with a layer of sweat mist.

His green eyes contained all the wildness, fury and lust in the world. He looked like an angry young god. And that took you to the apex.

Five let out a short, husky, sneering laugh at how fast you always came for him, and he increased his movements until he poured the hot liquid as deep as possible into you.

“Your pussy is so good.” He whispered in your ear, slowing you two heartbeat with a few kisses on your shoulder.

Five pulled the suit that was lying on the floor of the car, placing it under you and turning you on top of the cloth, so that the cum dripped on the suit instead of the seat. He watched in lust as the cum poured out of you.

Five pulled the air against his teeth, not controlling himself and leaning towards you, sticking your lips together in an angry kiss.

“You are so hot." You smirked at his comment.

“Where were we even going?” You laughed.

"Home."

You loved how he used the word "home" with you. As if it were the home of the two of you.

“Take a shower and have dinner?” Five nodded, removing a lock of his hair from his face. "And after... we are come cuddle?”

He laughed, shrugging and sticking his lips to yours again.

“If that is going to make you stop talking. Of course, dear.” He grunted playfully on your lips, and you laughed.

God, you loved that man.

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 1/?)

Chapter 1: A Nurse for Androids

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a biomechanical engineer, a fancy way of saying that you repaired androids. After the revolution, you decided to move back to Detroit to offer aid as, essentially, a nurse. After stopping by to visit an old friend, you began to grow attached to his android partner.

Chapters • 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

"Lieutenant, this place is-"

Connor stopped himself when he caught the look Hank was giving him. It was something akin to a scowl, though his lip was a bit more crooked and his eyes were more annoyed than angry.

"Hank," Connor corrected himself. "This place is-"

"Can it," the detective groaned, knowing full well he was about to get criticized for living in a dump.

Connor caught himself smiling a little, despite the fact he had just been told to shut up. There was something oddly satisfying about getting on Hank's nerves, especially when it was over harmless things. 'Banter' was what it was called.

Hank had been sober since the revolution, and that was nearing six months ago. It was a little difficult for Connor to get a grasp on how that made him feel. 'Proud' seemed to be the word that came up the most in his searches. He was proud of his partner and wanted to congratulate him.

The older detective insisted 'I don't need nuttin' and 'don't buy me no damn gifts' when Connor suggested they celebrate. After some insistence, Hank reluctantly agreed to let Connor help him clean his house. It seemed to go hand in hand with Hank's new resolve: get your shit together, tidy up the place, buy some new fucking furniture.

"Isn't the point of this whole deviant thing to not do stuff for humans?" Hank asked, mopping the kitchen while Connor loaded up 'Hank's crap' in a box to be donated.

"I'm doing this because I want to," Connor insisted. He paused and turned to Hank. "We could test it? Tell me to do something."

Hank leaned against the broom, eyeing the android suspiciously. "Fine. Trim Sumo's nails."

Connor did not even break eye contact. "No."

Hank let out a howling laugh. "Smartass."

The android smiled and resumed what he had been doing. It all made sense, why humans got such a rise in telling people to fuck off, why Hank had no issue telling Connor to 'mind his own damn business' when he scolded him for his choice in food. Free will felt good. Connor had his own apartment, collected a paycheck. He went to work every day because he wanted to.

The doorbell rang and Connor eyed Hank first.

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders. "Knock yourself out. Probably just some damn door to door salesman."

Connor trotted over to the front door. When he answered , he was greeted by a pretty woman, a few inches shorter than him, with a bright smile and beaming eyes. She had a curious demeanor: like she had knocked on this door dozens of times. Well, you had, it had just been a long time.

Before he could utter a word-

"Holy shit," you exclaimed through a wild grin. You had expected Hank to answer the door. But, a familiar face did instead. His hair was neatly trimmed with just a few devious strands fallen over his forehead, kind brown eyes and a squared jaw. Most guys grew out of their freckles. You were pleased to see that he did not.

His eyes flickered with confusion at the sight of you. It was to be expected, so you didn't overthink it.

Excitement overwhelmed you and you reached forward, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down into a friendly embrace. He was frozen stiff in the door way, one hand still on the handle while the other hung limp at his side.

"God you got tall," you murmured happily into the space above his shoulder. You pulled back and looked into his confused eyes.

"Cole, don't tell me you forgot your best friend?" you teased. His head tilted slightly and his brow softened.

In the corner of your eye, you could see Hank approaching from the kitchen. When you saw the look on his face, your excitement settled down. He did not look like the police officer you knew growing up. His once clean shaven face was covered in a messy beard. His once neatly trimmed hair was long and shaggy. He had greyed a tremendous amount, likely from stress.

Yet, his kind eyes were the same as you remembered.

"Officer Anderson," you addressed him with a smile.

Hank didn't even have to ponder over who you might be. You were all grown up, sure, but like hell he'd ever forget the kid his kid spent most of his time with. He uttered your name with a sort of fondness that brought you right back to your childhood. However, there was something equally depressing in the way he said it.

"I am very sorry; but, I am not Cole."

Your eyes returned to the young man in front of you, the one you had just embraced. He offered his hand to you. You gawked up at him for a moment, processing what he had just said. It was then that you finally saw it, the solid blue LED on his temple.

Embarrassment flushed your face; so, you took his hand to try to drown it out. "My name is Connor and I am a detective with the Detroit Police Department," he introduced himself proudly.

"I - I'm sorry. That was very rude of me," you apologized, voice so much smaller than it was a few seconds ago. Connor didn't seem bothered at all by what had just occurred.

"Good to see ya', kid," Hank grunted. You nodded at him and forced a smile. Hank did not.

The older detective made a gesture, beckoning you inside. "Why don'tja come in..."

The android, Connor, stepped out of the way and you followed Hank into his living room. It had not changed one bit since the last time you were here: the same shaggy carpets and wrinkly old couch and faded recliner.

He had not said it yet; but, as you took a seat and began to process everything, you knew what was coming. Hank took a seat in his recliner and leaned forward, elbows on his lap. You felt your heart sink into your stomach and blood rush to your ears.

"Cole died, not long after you moved away," Hank explained. "This hunk'a'plastic is my partner." He motioned at Connor with a wave of his arm. "Sorry," he added on gruffly.

He had died... that long ago? And you had no idea... You had grown up, graduated college, lived through a quarter of your life already and Cole was... was gone, had been gone, long before he could experience much of anything.

"Hank - shit - I'm sorry. I came barging in here and-..." Hank waved you down, hoping to calm the storm that was beginning to brew. You continued, however, trying to settle the unease in your voice. "Me being here - it probably brought back painful memories. I should leave."

"Brought back memories, ya. Not painful ones," he replied, tone low, but sincere. "Less you count the time he fell outta the tree and broke his arm. You blamed yourself. So, I had two crying kids. Fucking hell."

His grumpy, yet playful tone, brought a smile to your face, and you choked out a laugh. "It was my fault," you giggled out.

"Yeah, well. That's a'right. He wore that cast like a medal," Hank replied with a soft smile, eyes looking off into nothing for a moment.

"I just wanted to say hi - check in on you guys," you explained, sniffling. You wiped some tears away before standing up. "I'm a mechanic - er, nurse - for androids. Moved back here to help, after the revolution - well, y'know. It's gonna be awhile before we can figure out a healthcare plan for androids."

"Sounds like you got a lot on your plate," Hank replied.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're still a cop. I imagine you'll be hearing from me a lot - abuse cases, y'know?"

"I'm glad you made something of yourself," the older detective added on, fatherly tone catching you off guard. It forced a sincere smile to your face.

"I better get outta here," you breathed. "Oh! Uhm - here - in case you ever need to get ahold of me." You pulled a card out of your pocket and offered it to Hank before offering another one to the android. You avoided his gaze in the process, but he took the card eagerly.

"I'm mainly gonna be stationed at Thirium Clinic. They just opened a couple weeks ago. Lots of... well, battle wounds and-..." You trailed off when Hank nodding in understanding. Tensions were still running high, violent protests were inevitably going to continue for a very long time.

Hank yanked his wallet out of his pocket and tucked the card away.  In the corner of your eye, you could see Connor do the same with the card you handed him. "Thanks, kid. My cell never changed if you still have it."

"Good to know. Thanks, Hank."

"If we meet again, I hope it is under good circumstances," the android - Connor - stated. Your eyes landed on him, a natural response from trained politeness.

You tried not to be overwhelmed by the site of him. He looked like Cole - like Cole had grown up and matured into a handsome young man. His soft brown eyes and freckles clashed deliciously with his sharp jawline. His designers had even put texture in his skin around his mouth and along his jaw and chin, suggesting he shaved every morning. Most androids had flawless skin; but, Connor had visible pores.

"I hope so, too," you replied, forcing your eyes away from his face.

Did Hank know what Connor looked like? He said they were partners. Did Hank choose Connor? Was he made for Hank? Did Connor know what he looked like? You had lots of questions. But, none of them were even mildly appropriate.

"Hank, thank you for letting me bug you for a bit. It was nice."

He smiled a crooked smile. "Sure thing, kid. Now, get off my lawn."

You returned his smile and saw yourself out.

As soon as the door closed, Connor's mouth was open.

"Don't you apologize or any other dumb shit," Hank scolded him.

Connor's mouth made a quiet sound when he smacked it closed.

"Back to work," Hank groaned.

...

...

...

Luck had it that you saw Hank and his android companion less than a week later. It first came in the form of a text from the older detective.

'connor fucked up his hand you working?' was what it read. You replied with a simple 'yes' and two of Detroit's finest were walking through the sliding door to the Thirium Clinic.

When you approached them, Connor had a towel wrapped loosely around his hand, the cotton stained blue from all the thirium that had leaked out of him.

"Hope you didn't expect something fancy," you said shyly as you ushered the boys over to a booth. The place was clearly an abandoned grocery store turned medical office. They had not yet put up any real walls, just portable ones to give the illusion of privacy. Simply put, it was a shit show

Connor sat down and propped his arm on the chair's operating arm. You took a seat next to him, flipped on the hovering light, and carefully removed the towel.

"Really? Have you seen my house?" Hank barked.

You chuckled at that; but, the laughter died off when you exposed Connor's injuries. The sheeting - skin, if you will - was completely torn off Conner's right hand: his palm, the pads of his fingers, even a few inches down his wrist. The wiring was exposed, and you could already spot several that needed to be replaced. His hand felt stiff as concrete, further proving the damage you had feared.

"Shit," you cursed, spinning away from him in your chair to a nearby filing cabinet. You fished out some wires, and continued fishing until you found the right ones for his model.

Connor had remained quite still, you realized, when you came back around. You looked over his arm again, mentally preparing yourself for the path ahead.

"Aside from the obvious missing tissue and thirium loss, it's like nerve damage," you explained over your shoulder to Hank.

"Damn it, Connor," he grunted.

"Sorry, lieutenant," the android replied, intentionally robotic, but with the slightest smirk on the corner of his lip.

You had to choke down a laugh. "I'm glad it hasn't been hurting you, Connor. But, this might," you warned him as you set down the wires.

"I understand," he replied firmly.

He twitched a little when you plucked the first wire. For the rest, he managed to stay still. With how close you were, you could occasionally hear him let out a quiet, sharp hiss, so quiet that Hank was unlikely to hear it. You ended up replacing almost every wire that ran from his digits, through his palm, and down his wrist to the first joint bracket. Listening to him wince in pain never got any easier.

"Finally. Done with the wires," you breathed once the last one was secured. You leaned back and let Connor flex his fingers and twist his hand. He began to rotate his wrist around when you decided to stop him, gently cupping the back of his hand.

You did this all the time; but, you were faintly aware of heat blossoming on your cheeks as you held Connor’s hand. You silently scolded yourself, feeling a little too old to have a silly crush.

"Gotta patch you up, then a thirium transplant," you breathed.

Before it would adhered to an android and take on a skin tone, their flesh was pale, metallic, shiny and sparkly. It was also something between plastic and silicone, and had to be melted.

Hands were detailed, with corners and wrinkles, and much harder to get right than patching a wound on a thigh, which meant it would take a little longer. You had a handheld device that made it easier. It looked almost like a tattoo gun, and allowed you to carefully adhere it over the gaping wounds on his hand.

Normally, you had to ask your patients to be still. Connor seemed to be doing a great job of handling that without needing to be told. As you finished, you watched in awe as the flesh took on the peachy, light color of his factory default skin tone.

With a sigh, you set your tools down and maneuvered over to a nearby storage container holding bags of thirium. You wished one out and handed it to the detective. His levels weren’t low enough to require manual insertion. He could do it a more conventional way.

It was almost funny that androids were designed this way, that their only existing digestive track was to take in more blood. Keeping their thirium levels in the proper range was the closest equivalent they had to the need for nutrients.

Connor smiled gratefully as he took the bag from your hand. “That should be good,” you stated, trying not to feel so bashful beneath his gaze. “Let me know if anything feels wrong in your han-”

It was an unexpected door slam that shattered the moment. Some gasps sounded from the around room, You stood up and looked towards the entrance to see a severely damaged android limping in, a gun in his left hand and his right cradling a wound. He was wearing scraggily clothes that looked unfitting with his prim and proper haircut.

"I want an android doctor!" he demanded, the gun tight in his hand but pointed to the floor. His posture suggested he was scared to use it. However, that did not stop Connor from drawing his own gun.

"Wait," you hissed at him, pushing his arm down.

Connor uttered your name in a scolding tone as you stepped away from the chair and approached the injured android.

You took slow steps towards him, palms exposed in a display of yielding.

"S-stop!" he stuttered, shouting at you. Yet, he didn't point the gun at you.

"Hi. What is your name?" you asked him, not bothering to try and hide your nervousness. Everyone was staring at him nervously, patients near the door scrambling to get away from him.

He hesitated, looking at you with fear in his eyes. "T-Thomas..."

"Hi, Thomas," you replied, trying your best to steady your voice. "I'm sorry but all the nurses here are human. We came here from all over the country to help androids. You don't need the gun."

"No!" he cried out. "I don't want any humans touching me!"

Thomas was not just handsome, he was gorgeous. He had the type of pretty face people dreamt about and bright blue eyes. It didn't take a genius to determine what he was made for.

"Thomas, no one here is going to do anything that you don't want," you spoke to him, firmly. That was easy to say without fear, because it was the truth. "I promise."

You stepped closer, one foot at a time, and kept your eyes on his. You offered your hand and watched the fear slowly melt away behind his eyes.

"H-humans lie," he uttered, choked up, tears threatening to fall.

"I know. I'm sorry, Thomas," you replied quietly. For a moment, you had forgotten that everyone was still staring. "You're free now. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Thomas, I want to help you. But, before I can, I need you to put the gun down."

"I don't wanna go back," he whimpered. He didn't point the gun at you, but he held it as if to declare that he would use it to make sure that wouldn't happen.

"Are they making you work, Thomas? Your owners?" you asked, watching his face contort in agony. His LED was hidden behind his hair; but, when he turned his head, you could see it blaring red.

"They don't own you anymore," you said, firmly, anger shining through. "Please let me help you."

You stepped a little closer and, this time, he lifted the gun enough that it pointed at you. You almost could see down the barrel.

"It's okay to be afraid. I am, t-too, Thomas," you continued, lifting your hands a little higher. He was sobbing, now, fat tears falling down his cheeks, tinted blue from the stress. His hand, gripping the gun, was shaking.

"Y-you're going into shock from lack of thirium. Please, Thomas, please put the gun down and let me save you!"

His grip had weakened; before you could react, a hand came out of the corner of your field of view and grabbed the gun, effortlessly yanking it from Thomas' grasp. The android collapsed onto his knees in a fit of sobbing, clothing soaked in blue that oozed onto the floor.

Connor stood over the android, Thomas' gun now firmly in his grasp. When did he-? That fast... or had you just not seen him sneaking up behind you?

You brushed past Connor and joined Thomas on the ground. You offered your hand again and he stared at it for a moment. He gasped, once, then twice, before finally taking your hand. Another nurse was at your side in seconds and helped Thomas to his feet. The android was babbling on static, on the verge of powering down.

Connor watched you stagger away with the android, his thirium seeping all over you and staining your scrubs. You were still speaking to him in that gentle voice, ushering him to calm down. All the surrounding patrons had relaxed and continued on as they were. Connor was still holding the gun in his hand. It was covered in buildup, likely uncleaned for years; but, it felt heavy, definitely loaded with a full magazine.

He was so hyper-focused on you that he did not even notice Hank approaching. "You alright, Connor?" Hank asked, knocking the android's arm with his own.

"She's amazing," he replied quietly.

Hank laughed at his declaration. "Look at you getting all doe-eyed." Hank clapped a hand over Connor's shoulder and dragged him towards the door. "Come on, Tiger. With your track record, I'm sure you'll be back in here in no time."

...

...

...

Admiration, Connor realized, is what he felt for you. You were smart, independent, strong. He was impressed with the way you handled an agitated android. He was even more impressed by how much you cared about them. Or, maybe flattered was a better word? He didn't quite know. He just knew that he couldn't stop thinking about you.

"Earth to android," Gavin bellowed, snapping his fingers in the android's face.

Connor looked up at him with an unbothered expression. He was seated at his desk and Gavin, apparently, had been leaning over him, trying to get his attention.

"Watching porn in your head or something, tin can?" he suggested with a sneer.

"I was going over the case files, which happened to be far more important than your whining," Connor replied coolly.

Gavin slammed his hands on the android's desk. "There's still a score to settle. Test me, motherfucker," he growled.

"Sure. Name the game," the android replied with a small smirk.

"Quite the pair on ya' for someone with no balls," Gavin said through clenched teeth.

Connor glared at him slightly, a retort bubbling up in his throat. He did, actually. Without the function of human genitalia, but passable for a real pair, so to speak.

"Maybe if you called him by his name, he would answer," another detective suggested, delivering a harsh slap to Gavin's back as he passed by.

Gavin swung around and hollered at the passerby. "Yeah, when I'm fucking dead!"

Connor rolled his eyes and returned to the computer screen in his mind. He was looking at case files, actually. He just wasn't... thinking about them.

"Another human killed by an android. You'd know all about that. So, enjoy," Gavin declared proudly, dropping a file on Connor's desk. He could care less if Gavin spent the rest of his life hating his wires. But, another detective had... defended him? How... odd. But, not unwelcomed.

Connor opened the case file and took a breath that he didn't need.

...

...

...

Coincidences... Perhaps, a glitch in the matrix? Or just pure luck.

The very morning after patching up Connor, you were in line to get coffee with none other than Hank right in front of you.

"You stalking me?" he teased, hands shoved into his coat pockets and breath visible in front of his face. Most of the snow had thawed, but it was still too damn cold outside.

"Probably," you replied dryly. "This place is the only good place in town."

"Great minds think alike," Hank agreed.

It was your turn to order everyone coffees, so you had several on the way. You and Hank waited together, and even after he got his single mug, he still waited alongside you.

"Whatever it is you wanna ask, just ask, kid," he grumbled.

"Just surprised you got an android partner," you uttered, looking away from him nervously.

"I didn't like him at first. He grew on me, and he's a damn good detective," Hank answered, pausing to take a sip of his coffee. "Don't be embarrassed 'bout confusing him with Cole. I'm not oblivious to the way he looks."

You looked over to Hank, who looked oddly peaceful despite what he was saying.

"Those Cyberlife bastards knew he was gonna be partnered with me. I doubt it was an accident."

Your brow shot up at his implication. "Connor was made to be a detective android, then?"

Hank nodded into his drink. "Yep."

"Does he like being a detective?"

"I asked him that once, when he wanted to come back after all the... protests. He said his programming was gone, no more 'lines of code' telling him what to do... but he still wanted to solve crimes. All I can do is hope it's what he wants, and not choosing the path of least resistance."

"Me too," you whispered, far too fondly for your own good. Hank shot you a look; but, luckily, the barista came to your rescue and called out your name.

"Bye, Hank!" you hollered, rushing to the counter to grab your drinks and see yourself out. It wasn't entirely for selfish reasons. The clinic was waiting, after all.

[thatwriterkei]

-Moment of Tangency-

Series Summary: When Y/N's favorite fictional characters come to life, a mystery ensues as a killer wreaks havoc in Bangor, Maine.

~

Chapter Summary: What started out as a sleepover with your best friend turned into a night of unexplainable events.

Warnings: cursing, underage pining if you squint, mentions of sex.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here's the first chapter of the big series I was talking about! I really hope you guys enjoy this, I've been working on this for about a month and it would mean the world to me if you have feedback and brought attention to this to those who would enjoy it too! I'm really excited to see how this goes.

~

Main Masterlist

MOT Masterlist

click here to be part of my taglist

_________________

Chapter One: The Beginning

"You will soon receive support from an unexpected source.." 

The red letters of your fortune stared back at you ominously.

"Hey, that's great timing huh?"

"Too soon, Marcus..Too soon."

A sheepish smile formed on his freckled face, "Sorry..Here, have another."

You shook your head, waving away the cookie. "I'll just stick to mine. I only have a little bit of room left for it." 

You took small bites, slowly indulging in the delicious treat, afraid of letting it go to waste with just two or three bites.

"I'm surprised your dad let me spend the night."

"Honestly, me too..I don't think he noticed that you're in the middle of transitioning."

"He probably just thinks I'm gay or something.."

You let out a choked laugh, "Maybe because you are."

"Hey, you can't tell me that Mr. Fisher isn't hot as fuck!"

"He isn't, oh my god!" You tried to finish the rest of your cookie without inhaling crumbs, suppressing the laughter building in your stomach.

"Have you seen his hands?! Y/N, I don't think you understand how much I adore him!"

"He's 20, Marcus!! Not to mention, he sucks at teaching physics."

"Hey, I didn't say my future man had to be smart."

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes, yes I am. Oh! Speaking of guys, any good gossip for the ship of a century?"

You could help but roll your eyes at his teasing, blood rushing to the apples of your cheeks.

"Kolby and I haven't spoken since last week. I don't think he likes me anyway. He's been talking to Heather more recently.." 

And, for some reason, you weren't too interested in him either. Yes, he was a nice looking, athletic guy but you just didn't care enough to go further than a 'hi, how're you?' with him.

"Well, his loss. You're a wonderful girl and it's a shame he's wasting your time with his boyish nonsense. Besides, he doesn't even wear watches like Mr. Fisher."

"I swear to god, if you mention him or watches one more time.."

"You're right, sorry," he held up his hands defensively before putting them down, "I just don't wanna see you get hurt, Y/N/N.."

"I know you're worried, Marcus, but I'm fine. It's our junior year, I don't think long-term relationships are supposed to happen for us until we're in like college."

"You never know..Anyway, what do you even see in him?"

You let out a sigh, sinking in the mounds of pillows and blankets that are laid astray on your bed.

"Umm..He's cute, without a doubt. His jokes are sometimes funny, depends on who he's around. He has a nice sense of style, I guess? I don't know..We've only known each other for a little over two months."

Marcus laid beside you, rolling to his side with a dopey grin plastered on his pale face. "And a lot could happen in two more months if you just talk to him. I promise, I won't even bother you in Algebra..Okay? Just trust me on this.."

You groaned but, nevertheless, agreed with a silent nod.

"Love shouldn't be this complicated.."

"Sometimes it is, sweetie..But only time can lead you to where you're supposed to be.."

"Yeah, I know...Since when did you become my therapist?" You let out a scoff.

"Since third grade! Now, c'mon, get off your lazy ass and let's do something cool!" 

He pulled at your limp arm once he stood up, dragging you to the floor and down the hallway towards the mini library your stepmom installed about a year ago; who has yet to use it.

"If you were looking for 'cool', you brought us to the wrong place." 

Your eyes scanned over the bookshelves, catching titles of famous works.

To Kill a Mockingbird

The Great Gatsby

War and Peace

Charlotte's Web

"You only have that perception because you hate her."

"Of course! Have you seen her?"

"Yeah, but this is still cool! You should take advantage of it while you can." 

Marcus released his hold from your ankle, scampering over to the section of the library where a red and white book was gleaming for attention.

"Oh my god! Miranda got the newest edition of IT?"

You stood up abruptly and made your way over. "She got what?!" 

"Holy shit, this is amazing! We haven't fangirled over this book since freshmen year."

"Oh yeah, our biggest obsession since One Direction." You laughed, taking the book out of his hands and running your finger over the textured title.

"Not gonna lie, the older cover looked better."

You rolled your eyes and ushered him over to the desk in the middle of the room. "Wait, let's see if they kept in that one part.."

"Which one? Does it have to do with Stanley? You had a major crush on his fictional ass." He teased, pulling up another chair beside yours.

"No no no, the one with Eddie and-Oh, I found it!"

Man, he had hated it when Richie called him Eds…but he had sort of liked it, too. It was something….like a secret name. A secret identity. A way to be people that had nothing to do with their parents’ fears, hopes, constant demands. Richie couldn’t do his beloved Voices for shit, but maybe he did know how important it was to creeps like them to sometimes be different people.

"Oh, I absolutely love this part..It's just, mwah, beautiful. Stephen King certainly knew what he was doing.."

"C'mon, let's go back to my room and reminisce." You took his arm and pulled him back to your bedroom.

~

You internally screamed at Marcus's onslaught recollection of memories.

"Oh, and that one time when you had a major attraction for-"

"Okay okay, that's enough reminiscing!!" You tossed the book at him.

"Aww, what? Feelin' embarrassed, sweetie?" He barely dodged the book, letting it bounce off your bed and onto the ground with a dull thud.

"Shut up.." You grabbed the nearest pillow and slightly smothered yourself with it.

The memories he continued to bring up brought back some nostalgia but looking back at it now made you cringe. You were practically grown up now, not 15 years old. 

"Okay, I'm sorry. But wouldn't it be cool if the losers club was real? Like actually around, in real life? Derry was based off of Bangor so it's more than likely you could find your own Stanley Uris." 

You cracked a smile at that and threw the pillow at him, situating yourself underneath the covers of your bed. "Yeah, yeah. I wish."

Marcus promptly pulled out his phone and checked the time, turning it over towards you  and flashing the bright light in your face. "Well, it's almost 11:11..Make a wish!"

"Seriously?" You deadpanned.

"C'mon, it wouldn't hurt!"

You sighed, sitting up on your elbows and closing your eyes. "Tell me when. You wish it too, okay?"

"Okay," some time passed, "now."

I wish the losers club was real..The entire gang. Every single one of them.

I wish I could blow Bill Denbrough.

You opened your eyes after you recited your wish a couple of times, sighing. You raised an eyebrow at Marcus, seeing him struggle to contain his laughter though the crimson red covering every inch of his face gave it away.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I wished that I could blow Bill."

"Goddamnit, Marc."

~

It took about a half hour before the two of you could fully relax into a deep sleep but once you guys did, Marcus took up most of the bed. 

A heavy gush of wind pushed open your window, the cool air from outside blowing into your room. You snuggled a little more under the covers, face being buried into someone's back. They smelled so nice, a light hazelnut scent and freshly washed hair that reminded you of late night drives with your older cousin when you were younger; Just absolute nostalgia exuded from them. You felt your entire body relax against theirs, the warmth overtaking your slightly exposed skin from the nippy air coming through the window.

You hear a quiet groan from the opposite side of you, the noise causing you to stir from whatever you were dreaming about prior; It was a bit fuzzy.

"What the fuck? Dumbass window.." It was just Marcus.

You felt the weight from the bed disappear, his dull footsteps moving around the carpeted room as he shuts the window.

He turns around and gives one look over the room, his eyes partially open. He sees a couple of people in the room, the sight confusing him in his drowsy state.

"What the..?"

A mix of someone screaming bloody murder and a smoke alarm going off floods the room, echoing off the walls and throughout the house. Even Marcus wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors heard him too.

It takes just a few seconds before your sleeping mind can process the screeching, thus causing you to flip over to your other side and turning on the lamp. Your eyes are piercing with annoyance, though you were still a little concerned about your astonished friend across the room.

"Marc, what the hell?! What's wrong? What happened?"

You cast a glance around your room, trying to pick the oddball out.

"What the hell?!" You hear from behind you, the sudden noise alarming you and making you jump off the bed towards the ground. 

Your head whipped around so quickly you were sure it was the dizziness that made your imagination run wild from the sight. There laid a guy, around your age, with very curly light brown hair that just looked absolutely divine to twirl your fingers around.

Underneath you comes a strangled groan, almost upon impact. Looking below, you find a girl with fiery red hair in a bob style. You push yourself off of her and scoot away until your back hits Marcus's legs.

"Who the fuck is yelling-Oh, holy shit..!" You hear another slightly deep voice exclaim. 

Turning to your right sat five other guys with drastically different appearances, one after another coming to the realization that they had no fucking clue where they were.

The room grew quiet, fear growing in your eyes as you try to find a person to focus on but the thought only made you even more dizzy than before.

_________________

Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters!! 💖

-Moment of Tangency- tags: @beauregard-s @demoniclust @deepestofwaters @grapesauze @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @soulwillower @19tozier @phrogtheguitarist @kindofokayimagines @stenbrozier @stenbrozier @brxken-heartsclub @fucking-greywater @theliterarymess

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Belated Celebration

I reached the astounding milestone of 1.1k followers back in October which also marked a year from when I started this blog and put a celebration to the side in order to do kinktober because I had plans to do this in November. Health issues got in the way so this will be a belated celebration.

Again, thank you so, sooooo much for putting up with me. The fact that you lovely people want to read what I have to offer and are willing to share pieces of yourselves with me through your requests and comments means a lot to me.

I’ll accept as many entries as I get from today (December 6th) until December 13th at 11:59 pm CST. All of them will be filled throughout January and —if necessary— February.

FAQ | fandom/character list

Rules:

Send me one or two AUs/situations, up to five prompts, and a character (you can send more than one character if you want me to write a poly relationship or a threesome/orgy and in that case, you can send up to eight prompts.)

If you’re not interested in any of the AUs or situations, you can tell me to pick those myself or send me a song and I’ll write a fic based on that song with the prompts you’ve chosen.

Please specify gender. If you don’t, I’ll write the fic with a gender-neutral reader by default.

When it comes to smut, I always write the reader as a person with a vagina. If you want me to write the reader as an intersex person or a person with a penis, please specify.

You can send in as many requests as you want, but please do it in separate asks.

prompts and AUs/situations under the cut

AUs & situations

AUS

✳︎ soulmate AU ✳︎ roommate AU ✳︎ neighbor AU ✳︎ modern AU ✳︎ fake dating AU ✳︎ college AU ✳︎ baker AU ✳︎ artist AU ✳︎ fairy tale AU (specify which one) ✳︎ library AU ✳︎ bookshop AU ✳︎ CEO AU ✳︎ Hogwarts AU ✳︎ arranged marriage AU ✳︎ royal AU ✳︎ bodyguard AU ✳︎ teacher AU ✳︎ bartender AU ✳︎ rich person AU ✳︎ actor AU ✳︎ model AU ✳︎ photographer AU ✳︎ movie AU (specify which movie) ✳︎ omegaverse ✳︎ canon universe

Situations

✳︎ there’s only one bed ✳︎ dating app ✳︎ secret admirer ✳︎ at a wedding ✳︎ accidental marriage ✳︎ wedding date hire ✳︎ locked in a room/closet together ✳︎ love triangle ✳︎ game night (truth or dare, love dice, never have I ever, etc.) ✳︎ secret relationship ✳︎ oblivious sexual tension ✳︎ break up/makeup ✳︎ age gap ✳︎ frenemies with benefits ✳︎ friends with benefits ✳︎ frenemies to lovers ✳︎ friends to lovers ✳︎ childhood friends to lovers ✳︎ enemies to lovers ✳︎ friends to enemies to lovers ✳︎ enemies to friends to lovers ✳︎ finally home after a hard day ✳︎ stuck in a place together for a long period of time ✳︎ seeing each other for the first time in a while ✳︎ meeting for the first time

Prompts

Angst & hurt/comfort

A1 - “My heart hurts when I look at you.”

A2 - “Don’t blame it on the alcohol, you tasted like you wanted me.”

A3 - “If anything ever happens to me, remember that I’ll always love you.”

A4 - “Darling, your heart is too pure for me.”

A5 - “Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same way.”

A6 - “Don’t leave me like that again, you scared me.”

A7 - “I can’t be without you.”

A8 - “Don’t tell me you love me unless you mean it.”

A9 - “They told me that you’d break my heart, but, holy shit, they never said it would hurt like this.”

A10 - “We need to talk.”

A11 - “Surprise! I have feelings and you just hurt them.”

A12 - “The worst thing is, that even after all of that, I’m still in love with you.”

A13 - “You look beautiful in your wedding dress/attire, I’m happy for you.”

A14 - “Choose me or lose me. I’m not a backup plan, and I’m definitely not a second choice.”

A15 - “Did it ever occur to you that you’re hurting me too?”

A16 - “You’re right, I did love you, I just don’t know if I can say the same now.”

A17 - “I wasn’t the one who walked away from us. You were.”

A18 - “I fell for you without even knowing it and, Jesus, does it hurt that you can’t see it.”

A19 - “Please don’t love me the way you loved your exes.”

A20 - “I know you think we’re not right for each other, but we’ve run into each other too many times for you to tell me this isn’t fate.“

A21 - “There’s always a place in my bed for you, I will wait no matter what.”

A22 - “Do you even still love me?”

A23 - “I told you not to fall in love with me.”

A24 - “Don’t leave me.”

A25 - “I can’t pretend anymore.”

A26 - “Tell me I’m wrong.”

A27 - “Don’t you dare walk out that door.”

A28 - “There was never an ‘us’.”

A29 - “Do you really think I’m happy?”

A30 - “I don’t want your apology.”

A31 - “Stop pretending like everything is fine.”

A32 - “What the hell were you thinking?”

A33 - “I didn’t believe you cared.”

A34 - “You’re jealous.”

A35 - “You may be attractive, but I’m not sleeping with you.”

A36 - “The bed is cold without you.”

A37 - “When did you stop loving me?”

A38 - “How do I make you love me again?”

A39 - “Shouldn’t you be with him/her/them?”

A40 - “I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you.”

A41 - “They don’t deserve you.”

A42 - “I never meant to fall in love with you. I just did.”

A43 - “Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

A44 - “Shit, is that blood?”

A45 - “I think we need a break.”

A46 - “Are you even listening?”

A47 - “Just leave me alone.”

A48 - “What’s wrong with me?”

A49 - “We don’t/wouldn’t work.”

A50 - “You had me! And you ruined it on your own.”

Fluff

F1 - “You look beautiful in anything.”

F2 - “I can’t believe I got the first date, let alone a year.”

F3 - “I have so much love for you. I actually never thought I could feel like this, but you proved me wrong.”

F4 - “I don’t care where I’m sleeping as long as it’s with you.”

F5 - “God, I’m never leaving your side again.”

F6 - “Every inch of you is breathtaking.”

F7 - “Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop.”

F8 - “Is this the moment that we kiss?”

F9 - “The more I look at you, the more I think we need to leave.”

F10 - “Look at me. I love you.”

F11 - “I—I think we should go for dinner first.”

F12 - “I love you more than coffee.” distant gasps

F13 - “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

F14 - “I’m tired and my bed feels so empty without you here.”

F15 “Are you going to kiss me or will you just keep staring?”

F16 “I think you need to tell me the truth about how you feel towards me.”

F17 - “You keep saying we’re friends, but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”

F18 - “Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.”

F19 - “I know you haven’t done anything, but can you please stop looking so goddamn kissable? My parents are here.”

F20 - “The things I would do just to see your face right now.”

F21 - “You’re the only person I’ve ever actually wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

F22 - “Please come home, this doesn’t feel right.”

F23 - “You look like you could use a hug.”

F24 “Why do I feel like I’m home whenever you’re near me?”

F25 - “Oh my God... you’re in love with him/her/them!”

F26 - “Do you want to make out as badly as I want right now?”

F27 - “Are you flirting with me?” / “You finally noticed?”

F28 - “I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re beautiful.”

F29 - “I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much before.”

F30 - “Take my bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

F31 - “I could kiss you right now!”

F32 - “You’re cute when you’re half asleep.”

F33 - “You should sleep in my bed more often.”

F34 - “Have you always been this beautiful?”

F35 - “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

F36 - “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but can I kiss you just like another ten, please?”

F37 - “Oh, wow, holy crap, wow... you’re so pretty.”

F38 - “Can you please... uh... I don’t know, put a shirt on?”

F39 - “I’m so madly and deeply in love with you, please meet me so we can discuss this.”

F40 - “I would’ve waited an eternity if I knew you were what I’d get at the end of it.”

F41 - “Thank you for loving me, I couldn’t have been luckier.”

F42 - “Every morning you kiss my forehead before I leave for work, why was it my lips today?”

F43 - “You keep that photo of us in your wallet?”

F44 - “I’ve fallen for you and it’s becoming difficult for me to get anything done.”

F45 - “All I can think of is your lips on mine.”

F46 - “I fought so hard to get you and thank God I can finally rest.”

F47 - “I never thought we’d end up together, but here you are confessing everything to me.”

F48 - “You were never the person I wanted, but you were the only one I ever needed.”

F49 - “That night you kissed me and I thought I might melt.”

F50 - “From the moment I saw you, I knew I was in love.”

Smut

S1 - “Do you like it when I touch you like that?”

S2 - “Want to head back to my place?”

S3 - “What a pretty sight.”

S4 - “You have no idea what you do to me.”

S5 - “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

S6 - “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

S7 - “I don’t care how good it feels, you better not come until I tell you to.”

S8 - “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”

S9 - “You better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

S10 - “Maybe If I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.”

S11 - “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”

S12 - “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

S13 - “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”

S14 - “When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and I’m going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”

S15 - “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”

S16 - “These walls are pretty thick, you can be as loud as you want.”

S17 - “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”

S18 - “I wonder what your girlfriend/boyfriend/partner would do if they knew what you’re doing right now.” (the story would contain cheating if you pick this one.)

S19 - “I bet all our neighbors can hear what a dirty little slut you are.”

S20 - “Come here, baby, let mommy/daddy take care of you.”

S21 - “Scream my name, I want everyone nearby to know who’s making you feel this good.”

S22 - “You look real pretty when you cry out.”

S23 - “Tell me what you like.”

S24 - “Shhh, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

S25 - “Think you can handle that much?”

S26 - “Call me selfish, but I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”

S27 - “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole.”

S28 - “Are you trying to turn me on right now or are you really just that oblivious?”

S29 - “Baby, I know you’re not trying out the new shower head without me.”

S30 - “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan... it was like a fucking melody.”

S31 - “I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that.”

S32 - “God damnit, now all I can think about right now is you licking my cock like it’s that ice cream cone.”

S33 - “Just let me finish this level and I swear I’ll go down on you until you come at least three times.”

S34 - “You’re virgin? How?!”

S35 - “Are you going to eye fuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?”

S36 - “If you don’t stop looking at my lips without doing anything about it, I will take you right here on this counter.”

S37 - “Shall we— shall we go back t—to my place?

S38 - “You don’t know half the things you do to me.”

S39 - “I’m aggressively thinking about having sex with you and trying to keep a straight face at the same time. Do you know how hard that is?”

S40 - “You’ve been giving me bedroom eyes for the past half an hour — time to show me what, exactly, was on your mind.”

S41 - “Bite your lip one more time, I dare you.”

S42 - “God, I love your hands.” / “Let’s put them to good use, then.”

S43 - “I don’t care what you do as long as you also do me.”

S44 - “I’ve never wanted to fuck somebody so badly.

S45 - “Just shut up and fuck me.”

S46 - “I might have seen this very moment in a wet dream once.”

S47 - “I know we’re just friends, but you’re sitting on my lap so I’m sorry if I get hard.”

S48 - “You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”

S49 - “I didn’t wanna say anything because we’re such good friends, but I would totally fuck you if you asked.”

S50 - “What are you doing?” / “Hopefully you.”

Miscellaneous

M1 - “I desperately want to take you out for dinner and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me.”

M2 - “You’re very attractive. Therefore I will stare at you.”

M3 - “Somebody’s cranky.” / “Somebody needs to shut the fuck up.”

M4 - “You’re not short. You wouldn’t understand.”

M5 - “(Character/Your Name) NO.” / “(Character/Your Name) YES.”

M6 - “You’re cute when you’re angry.” / “Yeah, well, I’m about to get really fucking adorable.”

M7 - “I’m not arguing, I’m simply explaining why I’m right.”

M8 - “Do I look like I give a fuck?”

M9 - “What are you doing?” / “Hiding.” / “Hiding from what?” / “Everything.”

M10 - “You’re really cute and it’s ruining my life because I think about kissing you all the time.”

M11 - “Not to dictate your life, but dump your asshole boyfriend/girlfriend/partner and drop your shitty friends.”

M12 - “If anyone can do it, then someone who isn’t me can do it.”

M13 - “Man, how many eye contact until we date?”

M14 - “God has a favorite TV series and it’s called my life.”

M15 - “It’s a beautiful day to stop wasting my time, honey.”

M16 - “Women aren’t complicated. You’re just dumb.”

M17 - “I’m actually pretty cool if you give me five tries to get it right.”

M18 - “Well, this social situation isn’t going the way I acted it out in the shower.”

M19 - “Do the dark circles under my eyes and my unwashed hair turn you on?”

M20 - “My opinion is no.”

M21 - “Are we gonna hold hands or what?”

M22 - “True love is having a crush even when they get a bad haircut.”

M23 - “Be prepared to add a cute emoji next to my name in your contact list because you’re gonna love me.”

M24 - “Was that just awkward eye contact or were we checking each other out?”

M25 - “His/her/their use of common sense is so fucking hot.”

[vintage-story-time]

MANHATTAN MADNESS by Chili Peeler

Chapter 1

Jim Andrews stared through the window of the plane as it came in for a landing at LaGuardia. He had never seen anything as impressive as the island of Manhattan; it looked like every square inch of the island was filled with a skyscraper. At 17 years of age, the biggest city he had ever been to had been Des Moines. When his sister, Elizabeth, had written to him and asked him if he wanted to come visit her, he'd jumped at the chance. He felt the same urge as Elizabeth had; to get out of the backwater burg his family lived in back in eastern Nebraska. He admired the way Elizabeth had just tore out one night, leaving a note for their parents that she was going to travel and see what else was out there in the world. That had been 3 years ago and no one in the family had seen her since. Occasionally a postcard would come, addressed to him, from different cities around the country. Chicago, New Orleans, Dallas......but never with a return address. Then, a few weeks ago, a letter. And then a week later, a round trip ticket from Topeka.

The plane was coming in low now over the Long Island Sound. He'd studied a map in the family Encyclopedia Britannia; probably outdated but he doubted they had changed the name of the Sound. He looked over again at Manhattan, still not believing his sister had made it this far from home. Jim came out of the airplane entrance ramp, walking in the midst of other passengers. He moved forward, swinging his head from side to side, looking for Beth. He tried to keep in mind, as he scanned the faces around the gate, that his sister was sure to have changed in the three years she'd been gone. The crowd began to thin away, people meeting their families and heading for the baggage claim. Jim was beginning to feel dumb, standing there with his head swiveling around. "Jim?!" He looked around and there she was - his big sister, Elizabeth. Man, had she ever changed! When she's left, she'd had short brown hair and the fashion sense of any other teenaged girl from eastern Nebraska, namely jeans and T-shirts. But now there was a wild looking girl....no, woman...in tight black Lycra pants, a bright red half-shirt that let her stomach bare and a tan suede jacket with lots of tassels swinging everywhere. Her hair was now blondish, long, over her shoulders with a tight curl. "Look at my baby brother - all grown up!" Beth said as she ran up to him and gave him a big hug which he returned with equal affection. "Beth, man, I've missed you..look at you!" He let her go and motioned to her attire. "You look like a fashion model or something." "What, these old things!" Beth laughed. "When in New York, do as the Yorkers do. Come on, let's go get your bags. I'm sorry I was late...it was hell getting a taxi today." "You don't have a car?" Jim said. "No one in New York has a car. There's barely enough room for the people. You'll see. This the most remarkable city in the world..... Tomorrow I can show you around, do the tourist thing." "Sounds good to me." Jim said as they headed down the concourse. In the cab on the way to Elizabeth's place, they caught up a little on the three intervening years. Elizabeth asked about the old town, the high school, if he knew anything about any of her old friends. Jim pumped her for the things she had seen on her travels, how she liked New York, etc. Beth seemed to want to steer away from the topic of why she hadn't kept in touch with the family more; she would just say that it was probably best for everyone, then added she hadn't wanted to worry them. "So, tell me, little brother, do you have a girlfriend back there?" "Well, I've had my share but I'm free at the moment. Why? You got someone you want to set me up with while I'm here?" "No, I was just wondering. When I left, you were still in the 'girl's are yucky' stage." Elizabeth laughed. "Yeah, well, I came to my senses." Jim smiled as the taxi slowed and pulled to the curb in front of tall brick building. "This is it." Beth said as she opened her door. A few minutes later, Beth was opening the door to her fifth story apartment loft. She walked in and hit the lights as her brother carried his case in. "Holy shit! This place is great." Jim complimented her as he looked around. The apartment had real high ceiling, wood floors, cool furniture. "Glad you like it. You can put your bag in here," Beth walked over to a door and turned on the light. He went into the bedroom and dumped his bag on the bed. The room was modern looking and clean. Overhead there was a skylight that was sure to let all the light in in the morning; sleeping in was going to be tough. "You'll be staying in here. This is my room usually. I'll be sharing my roommate's bedroom." "Roommate?" "Yeah, did you think I could afford this place by myself?" "I don't know. What kind of a job do you have?" Jim asked. "I'm a hostess at a club here in town. A really trendy place. It's private, in fact." "And what, you are on a salary?" "Yeah, but most

of the money comes from tips. The member's are loaded....it's really easy work. Just a lot of smiling. Anyway, I hope you're hungry, I'm going to make us some dinner." "I'm starving...all I got was some peanuts on the flight." "Good. Go ahead and unpack and I'll get things going." Beth left him, pulling off her suede coat as she went into the living area. Jim watched her leave and for the first time thought of how attractive Beth had become. She had to know that the clothes she wore left little to the imagination. The tight pants showed off her fine legs and cute bottom. Jim bet she played on her good looks at that club of hers, flashing a smile at the old codgers who'd give her a big tip just for the illusion of her maybe being attainable. Being blessed with good looks was a pretty easy way to get by in life but he couldn't hold that against Beth. It had gotten her away from Shitville, Nebraska. Jim put his clothes in some empty drawers and took his toiletries into the bathroom. Being a neat person by habit, he opened the medicine cabinet to see if there was enough room for his deodorant and shaver. And was surprised to find the cabinet totally empty. Not a bottle of pills, not a pair of tweezers, not a jar of nail polish - nothing. He opened the drawers by the sink and found them empty as well. The absence of any girlie items anywhere in the bathroom struck him as curious. He didn't think Beth had emptied everything out and taken it into her roommate's bathroom; no reason to go to all that trouble, just take the essentials over. The bathroom looked like it wasn't even being used. Jim stowed his stuff in the drawer, kicked off his shoes and went out to see what his sister was making for dinner. "Whoa! Who is this?" Jim said as he looked at a picture of his sister and another woman near the entrance to the kitchen. "Oh, that's Julie, my roommate....well, don't walk on your tongue!" Beth said as she took a bowl out of the cupboard. Julie looked like every man's ideal woman. In the picture, she was standing next to Beth with her arm around her shoulders. Beth was probably 5' 7". Unless Beth was standing in a hole, Julie must be at least 6' 2". Brunette, almost black hair, worn to mid-back with lots of body. Her face was attractive - not great, sorta tough looking but it certainly could be overlooked. But it was Julie's body from the neck down that probably stopped men in their tracks. Julie was stacked. Big round tits with a lot of cleavage showing. 'No way those are real,' Jim thought to himself. Hips that flared nicely, plenty of meat to grab onto there. Legs that looked like she had worn out a Stairmaster. 'She looks like a fuckin' superhero,' Jim thought. Finally he moved on into the kitchen where Beth was smiling at him knowingly. "Yeah, she gets that reaction a lot," Beth said as he leaned against the counter. "I bet she does. Is that all her?" Jim said as he motioned with his hand over his chest. "No.....but she says it was the best $5000 she ever spent." "$5000?! What kind of work does she do? That's a lot of money." "Well...she's an agent, I guess. She hooks people up." Beth said. "Like how?" Jim was intrigued. "Well, she sorta acts like a headhunter." Beth continued after Jim gave her a quizzical look. "She's like a talent agent, finding people for jobs." "Oh, I see." "Don't let her looks fool you," Beth said as she opened the refrigerator and handed him a beer, "Julie's a smart cookie, too." "So how did you two meet?" "At a gym. I was living with this guy for awhile, a real jerk as it turns out, but anyway, I could use his pass fro his health club. Julie and I just got talking and we hit it off. She's probably the best friend I've ever had. She pay's for the lionshare of the expenses for this place." "Well, you've really fallen in it here......penthouse apartment, good job...it sure beats milking the cows at 5 A.M." "Oh God, don't remind

me!" Beth said as she opened a beer for herself. Jim heard the front door open. Beth did too. "That must be Julie," she said to Jim. "JUUULLLEEESS!" "YEEAHH!" "Well, come and meet her," Beth said as she took her brother's hand. They exited the kitchen walking into the dining area and there she was - Julie and the picture didn't do her justice. She was looking through a stack of mail, wearing a form fitting short dress. She looked up then and jerked her head to the side, sending her hair over her shoulder. It was quick natural movement but Jim got the feeling she had waited until they could see her before she did it. "Julie, this is Jim." "So this is your little brother." Julie said as she walked over to them, the emphasis on the word 'little'. "I'd hate to see your 'big' brother." Jim liked the fact that Julie was complimenting him on his physique. He was 5' 11" with muscle from working long hours around the family farm. Julie extended her hand and Jim shook it. "Nice to meet you, Julie." he said and meant it, willing himself not to look at her fantastic chest. Julie could be fodder for many a night of masturbation. "You got a nice strong grip, Jim. You work out?" "Nah. Just work around the farm." he said. "Baling hay, other exciting stuff." "Yeah, Lizzie's told me all about the farm life." Julie said with a wry smirk. Julie bend slightly and gave Elizabeth a peck on her cheek. Elizabeth looked at Jim after it happened but then Julie continued, "So what do you kids have planned for tonight." Jim guessed Julie was maybe 30; certainly older than he at 17 and Elizabeth at 21. Being called a 'kid' made Jim twinge but he got the feeling that was just the way Julie was. Like she wanted to get a reaction. "Nothing tonight." Beth said. "I'm whipping up some dinner and I thought we'd just relax." "I just stopped by to get another pair of shoes," Julie said. "I've got a meeting later, so I'll have to pass on dinner. I'll be back around 11. You'll still be up, right?" "Oh sure, you know me." Beth replied. "All right then, I'll see you guys later." Julie walked off toward the door to the other bedroom on the other side of the apartment. Jim watched her bottom all the way. Beth punched him in the arm to bring him out of it. "You men are all alike!" she said giggling as she went back into the kitchen. Jim followed her. "So shoot me. There's nothing like that back on the farm....Lizzie." "Don't you start with the Lizzie, too. Julie started calling me that but I don't want it to catch on. Beth is just fine." Jim heard the front door open and close again as Julie headed back out into the city for her meeting. Beth was rooting around in the cupboard, pulling out spice bottles. "Dammit!" she said exasperated. "We're out of basil....I'm gonna run down to the market and get some. Without the basil, this dish just doesn't make it." "Hey, don't go to any trouble....." Jim said as he followed her out into the living area. "The market's just around the corner. I'll only be a few minutes." She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door. Left alone, Jim wandered around. He went outside on the patio that was off the dining area and looked at the surrounding buildings in the fading dusk. He went into the kitchen and lifted the lid on what Beth was preparing; it looked like an Italian sausage dish. He roamed into the livingroom and studied the prints on the walls; they were all of women, paintings by a guy named Nagel. They reminded him of some of the artwork in the front of Playboy magazines, mildly erotic. He was walking near the door to Julie's room and the door was open, so he poked his head in. The bedroom was larger than the one he was staying in; obviously this was the master bedroom of the apartment. Same skylight, a king-size bed with black and white bedding, same sliding door for the closet and the bathroom door in the same place as in the other

bedroom. Jim was going to move back out into the apartment when he noticed something very interesting sitting on the far bedside table. He couldn't be absolutely sure it was what he thought it was; a magazine was covering part of it. He was going to walk over and check it out but he heard a key being inserted in the front door. Quickly he moved a few feet to the nearby entertainment center and made like he was looking at their music selections as Elizabeth came through the door. "Told you that wouldn't take too long," she said as she pulled off her coat. "Come on and help me set the table." "Sure," Jim said as he followed her toward the kitchen. His thoughts, however, were on what he thought he had seen in Julie's bedroom. It had sure looked like there was a pair of handcuffs under that magazine.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 246: Plot Whiplash

Previously on BnHA: Hawks handed Endeavor a copy of Re-Destro’s NYT bestseller and was all “ಠ_ಠ READ THIS!!” He then flew off back to the PLF and was all “hey guys just got back from handing out free copies of Destro’s book to everyone in a 1000-mile radius, which absolutely nobody asked me to do, well anyways you can thank me later” and they were all “SWEET.” Back at the Endeavor HQ, Bakugou got all fired up to BUST SOME HEADS but Endeavor’s sidekicks were all “WAIT FOR THE PLOT YOUNG MAN.” Meanwhile in his office, Endeavor discovered a secret code in the book Hawks gave him, which basically read “HEY WHAT’S UP THE LEAGUE HAS TAKEN OVER THE MLA AND HAS AN ARMY OF 100,000 PEOPLE” and Endeavor was like “!!!!” And then we cut to the League and Toga was all “IN FOUR MONTHS TOMURA IS BLOWING THIS SHIT TO KINGDOM COME” and then the chapter just ended. Sometimes it be like that.

Today on BnHA: Tomura sits down with Ujiko who monologues a bit about Quirk Singularity and then starts some sort of quirk-upgrading process which will apparently take four months to fully set in. And also he’s like “oh btw let me tell you about One for All” so THAT’S A THING NOW, GREAT. We then cut back and forth between Endeavor and Hawks, who both somehow come to the weird conclusion that THE INTERNS ARE OUR ONLY HOPE NOW using logic that is hard to explain on account of THERE ACTUALLY ISN’T ANY LOGIC BEHIND IT, SHHH. But anyway, so Endeavor figures out the rest of Hawks’s message and he knows that Hawks is trying to figure out what the League is up to, and something something that’s why the internships are so important. Like, I get that the Terrible Trio are future legends in the making, but these guys are seriously like “well okay let’s just go ahead and rest all our hopes on them” out of the blue, and Hawks has this big monologue about how “THINGS WON’T GO ACCORDING TO YOUR PLAN, VILLAINS” and okay then!! And then the last two pages are basically just DID SOMEBODY ORDER SOME HYPE with more shit going on than I can possibly sum up so I won’t even try lol. But damn.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.) 

okay guys, I’m feeling kinda under the weather today, but I know this chapter’s gonna be good so lesssssss gooooooo. bring me back to life Horikoshi

(ETA: lol well there sure was a lot happening in this chapter, that’s for sure. my head hurts.)

oooooh it’s a sexy Jump cover celebrating season 4!

I really need the anime team to step up and give Ochako and Tsuyu some more screentime in the Basement Arc since the manga did not do them justice. there’s only like a 20% chance of that happening, which is depressing, but it’s 2019 and the winds are slowly changing, albeit at a geriatric pace. so I’ll allow myself to have some hope. you never know

YEAH SON LOOK AT THIS COLOR SPREAD Y’ALL THIS IS RAD

hello I love everything about this. the colors, the focus on our best girls, Deku’s bizarre-yet-awesome assorted sci-fi accessories (Deku do those headphones let you communicate with space or what), and of course, the five million TVs in the background which for some reason all appear to be from the 70s. all of this to remind us to TUNE IN TOMORROW FOR THE LONG-AWAITED SEASON 4 DEBUT. I will definitely tune in! the first episode is just gonna be the usual half filler/half clip show, but honestly season 3 was so good that I could sit through a whole hour of nothing but highlights and still be thoroughly entertained

anyway let’s move on because there are GAMES AFOOT, and we’re hopefully about to learn which direction this arc will be headed in!

OH SHIT OH FUCK

yep, that’s him. Shigaraki “destruction incarnate” Tomura. I see we’re getting our weekly dose of “just a reminder that WE ARE SCREWED” even earlier than usual this chapter, huh

so does anyone else get a chill up their spine every time Ujiko makes an appearance, or is that just me? like, god. he may honestly be even creepier than AFO. he’s just completely soulless, this guy. he’s got like this Mengele vibe to him (though that may be kinda dicey to compare horrific real-life atrocities to fictional ones in a shounen manga, but I’m just trying to explain why I find him so disturbing) and it really freaks me the hell out, ngl. anyways so him wearing a surgical mask and standing in front of this weird examination chair is pretty much the last thing I need right now. go away Ujiko

so Tomura is all “I want it cuz you promised, so pay up jackass”, and like. fair, though

I really like this new art style Horikoshi’s been using for him since his Awakening. kinda curious how it’s going to translate to the anime, or even to a color spread. but at the very least in black and white it looks siiiiick

smh look at this little punk trying to downplay how insanely freaking overpowered his quirk currently is

okay first of all, “President Baldy” is only alive because you left him alive. and he also had to chop off his own legs to stay that way. like, what kind of argument is this, Tomura? “this power is far from invincible, all my enemies have to do is amputate their own limbs and then they’ll have me right where they want me.” you know what, just go on and destroy the world right now kid. you’re getting greedy now and it could be your undoing

that is a nice parallel between him and Deku there, though. now I’m craving some Symbolic Artwork of them standing back to back each holding out their scarred right arms. maybe with their respective mentors in the background. here at BnHA we prefer our parallels nice and dramatic

sdskfjlaskdj

son of a bitch. I really wish he wouldn’t say that with such utter certainty. “the next conflict will be our last.” cue me flipping through the BnHA table of contents and trying to determine just how far along we actually are here, because this is veering dangerously close to Final Battle signaling, and like, ALREADY?? TOMURA ARE YOU JUST BEING THEATRICAL OR ARE YOU FOR REAL OMG. motherfucking DARK LORD’S LIPS curling into the WICKEDEST FUCKING CRESCENT I’VE EVER SEEN, fuck me

(ETA: it occurs to me on readthrough #2 that “the next conflict will be our last” could be interpreted to mean him and All Might specifically. like, the last conflict between the two of them. and that might very well be true, and would not surprise me at all. shit.)

fjsgk now Ujiko’s talking about research. and quirks!! glkjlkl

fully expecting the camera to cut to some NOUMUS any second now oh my god. also trying not to think about how crazy ominous that fucking chair looks. and how many people this maniac has probably strapped down to it and done god knows what to them. hey Horikoshi you know what, I’ve had just about enough of this dark shit, can we please cut back to my kids now I’m feeling too unsettled. goddammit

anyhow of course we are NOT cutting away, and Ujiko is continuing to talk about quirk evolution, and now segueing into a speech about that quirk singularity thing. -- which he apparently named?? wow

is he actually going to do something to Tomura? holy shit?? this whole time that they’ve been talking about this “power” I’ve just been assuming it was something external, like some other handy dandy villain resource that AFO’s just been sitting on or something. this is not where I expected things to go. didn’t he just get an upgrade??

anyway so here’s a brief summary I just wrote up of The Past Six Months of BnHA:

Deku: [gets a new quirk]

everyone: bruh. Horikoshi really out here giving Deku AFO Powers while Tomura just sits around starving to death on a couch. what the heck

Horikoshi: [powers up Tomura to the point where he can destroy anything just by it being in contact with something that Tomura happens to be touching] [has Tomura use this power to level an entire city]

everyone: -- oh. okay, you know what, never mind --

Horikoshi: [gives Tomura an army of 100,000 people] [also gives him command of 11 extremely lethal and nigh-unstoppable killing machines, just one of which was almost enough to take out the number one hero, LITERALLY THE STRONGEST GUY THE GOOD GUYS CURRENTLY HAVE IN RESERVE]

everyone: okay we’re sorry we get it you can sto --

Horikoshi: APOCALYPSE IN FOUR MONTHS!!!

everyone: WE GET IT WE’RE SORRY PLEASE

Horikoshi: [GIVES TOMURA ANOTHER POWER-UP]

everyone: [curled up in fetal position sobbing]

starting to think the mangaka might be the actual final villain here. hmm

anyway. so I guess we have four months until Tomura ascends to Actual Godhood and proceeds to rain hellfire down upon the world. what are you all gonna do with your four months. I personally have a lot of stuff to binge, but knowing me I’ll probably just waste all my time reading fanfic while youtube videos play in the background which I’m not paying any attention to. what am I doing with my life

oh were we not done hyping him up? there’s more??

(ETA: I got so caught up in the OFA comment I didn’t pay attention to Tomura becoming a beautiful decayed butterfly in this exquisitely creepy panel here. but damn.)

-- HOLD THE FUCK UP. does Tomura know about One for All??? because I was under the impression that AFO hadn’t told him? this would change a lot if he knew this entire time, holy shit?!

aaaaaaaaand exactly one panel later Horikoshi is all “no he didn’t know calm the fuck down” lol

okay then. so he didn’t know, and he’s only just finding out now. well tbh that’s still worthy of a smiling crying emoji face though :’) this is fineeee

shit here we go oh shit

-- WAIT, SO WE’RE JUST CUTTING AWAY FROM THEM? NOW YOU CUT AWAY? YOU GET WITHIN INCHES OF CONFIRMING THE FUCKING ALL FOR ONE FOR ALL THEORY AND THEN IT’S JUST “ANYWAYS HERE’S ENDEAVOR” YOU KNOW WHAT, HORIKOSHI, I --

just. come on dude. AFOFA 2019! let’s make it happen! dammit

sigh, so looks like it’s back to the admittedly-still-epic “Hawks passes down secret information about the villains to Endeavor” plot. I guess we’re not exactly hurting for good plots all around. I may complain but honestly we are spoiled

so Hawks is saying that he actually doesn’t know the specifics of the villains’ plans yet. well shit

apparently his feathers can only pick up sounds from short range, and the villains keep escorting him away whenever they get to talking about the good stuff. well at least that explains that potential plot hole from last week. Hawks’s feathers may have a short range, but Horikoshi’s plot hole caulking gun can fill in leaky plot holes from fucking miles away. amazing

ffffffff

don’t mind me I’m just sitting here fretting about Hawks continuing to be in mortal danger and risking his life to gather information in a race against time against the end of the world. Horikoshi out here piling up stakes like a freaking vampire hunter

but in the meantime, everyone please stop what you’re doing for a moment to look at this absolute unit of a bellhop slash security guard

apologies Lord Vader he was just trying to get to the dining hall. my bad. as you were

and holy shit I hope you enjoyed that light comedic break because two seconds later Re-Destro has dropped in to fixate Hawks with one of those Lightly Menacing Smiles he’s so infamous for. so that’s just fucking great!

HAWKS WATCH OUT FOR YOUR FINGERS

omg. imagine, a showdown between the two stealth murder MVPs of the series, Yotsubashi “Sleeper Hold” Rikiya (yes I did have to look up his real name just now) and Takami “Tag Em And Bag Em” Keigo. true, RD may no longer have legs, but he didn’t need them to choke out our little mouse buddy now did he? anyways speaking of which I just remembered that I fucking hate Re-Destro and I honestly hope Hawks does kill him. it’d be pretty easy to fit him into a bag too. he’s basically just a torso and arms now

oh sure Horikoshi go ahead and spring this on me after all of that ranting why don’t you

by the way does Re-Destro have Robot Legs now, or

looool he does

I will say this for Horikoshi, he knows my weaknesses. more robot limbs please. either badass or memeable ones, either is fine

meanwhile I skipped over this panel of Hawks and Twice being buddies in order to get to the legs, and shame on me for that. let’s go back

Twice is a genuinely good guy and I hope Hawks can tell. I wonder how fake this smile is. I feel like it’d be easy to relax around Twice regardless of how tense you are about your secret spy mission which could go south at any time. anyways this is wholesome

and now we’re cutting back to Endeavor who is taking his sweet time reacting to this whole thing. Endeavor can you fucking chill with the poker face already geez

okay wait, what

are you serious?! I fucking can’t with this lady. “now make sure to throw these children directly into the line of fire! it’s good for them and builds character!” I’m sorry, I thought this was the Hero Public Safety Commission, not the Putting Juveniles Directly Into Harm’s Way Commission?? at least change the acronym to something more appropriate then. Heinous Pathetic Soulless Cowards. just a suggestion. jesus

anyway so for a moment I got confused as to whether this was implying that she’d told Endeavor about Hawks’s undercover mission. but it seems like he’s still unaware. shouldn’t be too long before he puts the pieces together though at this rate

lol in the very next panel, even

meanwhile you’re just sitting on your ass reading a book! FUCKING DO SOMETHING ALREADY, ENDEAVOR

so he’s thinking that the “preparation” part of Hawks’s message is referring to the interns. let me back up a sec and write down the entire message as he’s read it thus far

“four months from now / rising to action / until then / will send / signals / in case / of failure / preparation / numbers”

...read like that, it really does sound like Hawks is advocating to get as many soldiers ready as possible. even if that includes actual children. including Endeavor’s own son. shit. I mean, I get that they don’t have much of a choice, but that’s still so fucked up. sure, we as omniscient readers know that Deku is their one and only hope, but they don’t know that. as far as they know these are just a bunch of teenagers with less than a year’s worth of experience that they’re propping up on the front lines. and the plan is then... what? hope they don’t die too quickly?? fuck

Hawks is out here having an argument with me in his thoughts. you wanna play it like that, Hawks? fine

I don’t know what kind of “but” you can tag on to the end of that paragraph that could possibly win me over, dude, but go for it I guess

and we’re finally cutting back to the kids in question now! with Burnin’ casually trying to crush Kacchan’s hopes and dreams

okay but I love how both Deku and Shouto are like “easy there buddy, we got you” and trying to keep Kacchan from having a fucking aneurysm sob. JUST TRY AND HOIST HIM ONTO SOME DUMB SIDEKICKS, LADY. YOU’VE MADE A POWERFUL ENEMY HERE TODAY

oh shit

oh my god. are we going to get our first actual interaction between the three of them that doesn’t consist of them grumbling annoyed introductions at each other and then running off to fight an old fortune teller omggggg

I love how Deku and Bakugou look weirdly intimidated by him lol. Bakugou where did all that “YOU’RE KIND OF A JERK” confidence go all of a sudden

YESSSSSSS

GODDAMMIT, I’M STILL SO MAD AT YOU GUYS FOR BEING ALL “LET’S JUST MAKE THE CHILDREN DO IT,” BUT DAMMIT THEY KICK ASS THOUGH SO I CAN KINDA SEE YOUR POINT

NOW HAWKS IS METAING ABOUT THEM AHHHHHHH

DAMN STRAIGHT THEY WOULD HAVE. BRING ON TOMURA AND ALL OF HIS STUPID POWER-UPS. WOW I’M WEIRDLY HYPED UP ALL OF A SUDDEN WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME

AND FUCKING LOOK AT THIS TWO-PAGE SPREAD AHHHHHHHHHHH

MOTHERFUCKER [WHIPS OUT PEN AND NOTEBOOK] TIME TO ANALYZE THIS BITCH

so Ochako and Tsuyu did indeed go back to intern with Ryuukyuu again! makes sense, she is a top ten hero after all. who’s that with them, though? almost looks like Yanagi from the hair and the mask, but the costume looks different? hmm

I CAN’T BELIEVE IIDA WENT BACK TO INTERN WITH FUCKING MANUAL AGAIN. THIS GUY IS THE BRAN CEREAL OF HEROES. though I fucking love him though so yeah it’s fine

JIROU AND SHOUJI TEAMING UP WITH GANG FUCKING ORCA AW YISS BOYS THIS IS THE GOOD SHIT LET’S GOOOO

KOUDA AND MANGA TEAMING UP WITH WASH OMG. MANGA IS THE ONLY ONE ON THAT TEAM WHO ACTUALLY FUCKING SPEAKS. IS WASH’S SIDEKICK SOME SORT OF BROOM PERSON OMG

A WHOLE FUCKING ACRE OF KIDS HAVE ALL GANGED UP ON THIS CAVEMAN-LOOKING FELLA I DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE. WHO ARE YOU. DID YOU CROSS OVER FROM THE FANTASY AU

KIRI BACK WITH FG AND BROUGHT TETSUTETSU ALONG FOR THE RIDE HELLS YEAHHHH

KAMINARI AND SERO WITH KAMUI WOODS AND EDGESHOT I’M HYPERVENTILATING AHHH. AND SHIOZAKI TOO!! I’LL JUST PRETEND I DON’T SEE MINETA THERE IN THE CORNER. MIGHT BE TIME TO DUST OFF THE OLD “CANCELLED” STAMP AGAIN BUT WE’LL SEE HOW THINGS GO

WHO ARE MOMO AND TOKAGE AND MINA AND AOYAMA (WHICH BTW IS THE GREATEST HERO TEAMUP OF ALL TIME HOLY SHIT) TEAMING UP WITH!? TELL US. AND PONY AND MONOMA. GODDAMMIT HORIKOSHI

whew! anyway. they’re all still screwed, but by golly that was nice to have that little invigorating breather of life and hope

LOL OH SHIT THERE’S ANOTHER ONE

okay, SOMEONE TELL ME RIGHT THE FUCK NOW WHAT ALL MIGHT IS LOOKING AT OR I’M GONNA LOSE IT. holy shit. he was researching the past users of OFA, wasn’t he? WHAT DID YOU FIND OH GOD. he’s not just upset, he looks one step shy of fucking crying?? did he learn about what happened to Nana’s son and his family, maybe? shit shit shit

so Yanagi is interning with Kendou then? so who was that with Hadou and Ryuukyuu and the rest. one of Ryuukyuu’s sidekicks?

IS THAT FUYUMI (SPOILERS FUCKING YEAH IT IS) AND WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE SHE’S FUCKING PRAYING OMG. it looks like she’s kneeling at a family altar?? like saying a prayer for someone who is PRESUMED DEAD, maybe?? LIKE MAYBE A LONG LOST TWIN BROTHER OH SHIT OUT OF NOWHERE THE HYPE DON’T STOP!!

AND WHY DOES NAO HAVE HIS HAT OFF AND CLUTCHED TO HIS CHEST LIKE HE’S TELLING SOMEONE BAD NEWS. GOD WHAT THE HELL EVEN ARE ALL OF THESE PLOT THINGS HAPPENING ALL OF A SUDDEN. LIKE I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO LOOK NEXT

KUROGIRI AHHHHHHHH

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ERI’S HORN!? DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THIS?? AIZAWA??? HELLO!?!?

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, TEAM OT3. TIME TO FUCKING SUIT UP. APPARENTLY. WELL ALL RIGHT THEN. [JACKET ZIP] [GUN COCKING SOUND EFFECT] LET’S GO PUNCH ‘EM IN THE MOUTH

y’all. this chapter was like plot whiplash. this went in so many different directions and hinted at so many different things that I’m at a complete fucking loss as to what to process first. but I guess the interns are gonna save us all, somehow. lol okay then

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Outside the Rain - Harry Styles Series (Part 11)

Part 10

“Woah, woah, woah,” you said looking at your manager in a group meeting. “You want us... to perform at the VMA’s? Before the single drops? Isn’t the whole point to have a surprise drop?” 

“Yes, but what about a surprise performance? You could do a simple medley of some of your biggest hits and end with the new single,” she said. “No one besides a few people at MTV will know.” 

“We know that never works,” Daisy said. “But I don’t hate the idea. I really wanna get back out on stage and I just think it'll be super bad ass to do it.” 

“But aren’t the VMA’s like in two days?” You asked. “How the hell are we going to put together a show in two fucking days?” 

“We’ve done it before,” Rachel said. 

“True, but we haven’t performed in YEARS together,” you said. 

“Are you saying you don’t want to do it?” Daisy asked. 

“I never said that,” you sighed. “I just wanted don’t want to have ass something just to make it possible. If we do this, it’s gotta be as close to perfect as possible.” 

“We got this, Y/N,” Rachel said. “It’s like riding a bike.” 

“I can’t ride a bike for shit,” you joked. 

“Yeah, well, not our fault,” she smirked. 

**

Once it was decided your group would be performing at the VMA’s, you were in stress and work mode. You all decided to take a quick lunch break and then get to brainstorming and getting with your choreographers. You knew this would be a huge thing for your “comeback”, but putting on a performance in two days... when you were starting from scratch was unheard of. 

You texted Harry to meet you for lunch near the studio. You knew the next few days were going to be a whirlwind, so you needed at least an hour of calm. You had arrived at the cafe before Harry and waved to him when he walked into inside. 

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked. 

“We’re performing at the VMA’s,” you whispered. 

“WHAT! Holy shit!” He said. “That’s amazing, baby.” 

“Did I mention it’s in two fucking days and we’ve got zero plans right now?” You groaned. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fucked,” he said. 

You glared at him, “That’s not helping.” 

“Sorry,” he winced. “Look, I know there’s pressure, but I’m sure you’re going to do great. You girls always put on a show. Is it going to be announced?” 

“Nope,” you shook your head. “No one is going to know until we’re on stage.” 

“That’s so fucking bad ass,” he said. 

“What is with you and Daisy!” You groaned. 

“Am I missing something?” He laughed. 

“Not really,” you laughed. “Anyway, so I really hate this because you came all the way here, but I don’t know how free I’m going to be the next few days.” 

“Baby,” he said taking your hand into his, “It’s okay. I understand. I’m here for a while. Now, the real question is... do I get to join rehearsals?” 

“It’d be boring as hell,” you said. 

“Not for me,” he smiled. “I want to see how you work.” 

“Don’t you want to be surprised for the final performance?” You asked. 

“I’ll love it either way,” he smiled. 

“Speaking of the performance,” you said. “Would you want to be my date for the VMA’s or is that like.. too soon for us?” 

Harry took a sip of his water and hesitated for a bit. “I mean, I would love to go. I want to go, but I don’t know if we should arrive together, if that makes sense.” 

You were a little disappointed at his answer, but you completely understood. 

“It does,” you said. “And it’s in New Jersey... We’re going to do a day here and then fly out tomorrow night.” 

“Wow, that’s really cutting it close,” he sighed. 

“Right? Like why wasn’t this decided like a week ago?” You sighed. 

“Well, look at this way,” he said. “When you pull off an epic performance, you’ll get to say you put it together in less than two days.” 

“Always looking on the bright side aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” he smiled. 

**

It was the next day and you were in rehearsals. You spent the rest of yesterday, after your lunch with Harry, planning out the performance and now it was time to put it all together. You all had twelve hours before you boarded the plane to New Jersey and time started now. 

Four hours had passed and you had run through the entire performance of four songs about ten times. Within the four songs, there were a couple of dance breaks and you felt like you were dying. You laid passed out on the floor, not literally, but you wished you were. You stared up at the ceiling. 

“Why did we agree to do this again?” You groaned. “We’re halfway through this rehearsal and I’m already dying.” 

“Why did we add so many dance breaks?” Daisy groaned. “My legs are jello.” 

“Because that’s our thing,” Rachel sighed. “Why is that our thing?” 

“Because we’re stupid,” you joked. “I’m starving, but I also feel like I’m gonna throw up if I eat.” 

“Take it to the bathroom with that!” Rachel said. 

You rolled your eyes. You heard the door of the studio open and you turned your head over in the direction. There was Harry holding a bag of something and about five smoothies in his hand. 

“Give me!” You said reaching out your hand, not moving an inch. 

He laughed looking at the four of you laying on the floor, “Um, did I miss something?” 

“We’re dying,” Jess said. 

“And we’re not joking. Every part of my body hurts like a bitch,” you groaned. 

“So, I take it rehearsals are going well?” He asked sitting everything down on th ground. 

“Fucking peachy,” Daisy said. “Anyway, I’m Daisy. Nice to finally meet you Harold.” 

“It’s uh... Harry, actually,” he blushed. “And nice to meet you, as well.” 

“Uh, I’m gonna call you Harold for now,” she said. 

“It’s her thing,” you groaned. “She always calls my boyfriends by different names or nicknames until she’s sure about them.” 

“Let’s just say I’ve never called anyone by their real name because they never made it that far,” she added. 

“Noted,” Harry nodded. “And that’s going to change this time.” 

“We’ll see,” she smirked. 

“Don’t be fucking Rude, Daisy,” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Welcome, Harry. Sorry, we’re meeting looking like a bunch of hot ass messes.” 

“No, you all look beautiful, lovely,” he said quickly. 

“No, we don’t. We fucking stink,” Daisy said. 

“It’s true,” you added. “Our sweat is sweating.” 

“Well, I brought some food and smoothies. I figured you all would need some fuel,” he said changing the subject. 

“Thanks, babe,” you smiled slowing sitting up. “Gah, my abs.” 

“After our performance, we’re all going straight to the fucking spa,” Jess said. 

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Rachel said. 

You all moved closer to the food and Harry sat next to you. You smiled kissing his cheek, “Thank you for bringing this.” 

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “So, besides being in miserable pain and sweat, how are you  girls feeling about the performance.” 

“I’ll admit I was little worried about it, but our last few run throughs went great. I’ve got faith we’re going to kill it on stage tomorrow night,” Rachel said. 

“I have no doubt,” Harry said. 

“So, Harry, have you always been a fan?” Daisy asked. 

“How do you have the energy for twenty questions?” You groaned. 

“It takes my mind off the pain,” she smirked. 

“No, it’s fine,” Harry smiled. “And I have. My sister and I went to a few shows whenever you came to the UK.” 

“That’s really adorable, actually,” Rachel smiled. 

“Oh my god,” you shook your head. “I’m so sorry about this,” you said looking at Harry. 

“Hey, this will save time during our flight tonight,” Daisy said. “He is going with us, right?” 

You looked over at Harry, “Yeah, of course,” he said. 

“Perfect,” she smirked. “So, basically it’s either we interrogate him now or on the plane.” 

“How about neither?” You suggested. “Especially, since you three were so gun-ho on us getting together.” 

“Doesn’t matter. We still have jobs to do,” Jess said. 

“It’s fine,” Harry laughed. “I don’t mind it.” 

“Just wait until she starts getting into the real personal details,” Rachel said. “You might be running for the hills after that.” 

“Hey! That only happened one time and it was for the best was it not?” She smirked. 

“What would I ever do without the three of you?” You joked. 

“Die alone?” Daisy suggested. 

You all laughed, winced, and finished eating before getting back to work. 

**

Once you were finished with rehearsals, you went straight home to finish packing and freshen up before meeting everyone at the airport. 

“I’m more than ready for a hot shower,” you groaned walking into your bedroom. 

“I can’t believe you danced for over eight hours,” he said. “I would have passed out after like two.” 

“Yeah, we’ll we can’t all be amazing dancers,” you joked. “Ow.” 

“How long as it been since you’ve had rehearsals like today?” He asked. 

“Since before the last tour we did together,” you said. “My solo stuff was never centered around dancing, so I never had a lot to practice.” 

“Wow,” he said. “No wonder you all were about to die,” he laughed. 

“Exactly,” you laughed turning on the shower and pulling off your sweaty clothes. 

“Do you need me to do anything while you shower?” He asked standing in the doorway. “I can take the bags downstairs.” 

“Or you can join me in the shower and rub my shoulders,” you said. 

“Well, I can’t say no to that,” he smirked taking off his shirt. 

You both get into the shower. Your tense muscles start to loosen up a bit as the hot water hits you. You close your eyes as Harry rubs your shoulders and leaves kisses on your neck. 

“Getting on a plane is the last thing I want right now,” you groaned. “I just want to go to bed and sleep for four days.” 

“We can sleep on the plane,” he said. “I’ll cuddle with you.” 

“Yeah... that’s not gonna happen,” you said. “You’ve never flown with us... and well, sleep never happens.” 

“Is this your way of telling me I should prepare myself?” he joked. 

“Hell yeah,” you laughed. 

“Bloody hell, what did I get myself into,” he laughed. 

Once you were out of the shower, you got dressed, finished packing, and headed to the airport. It was still surreal that this was happening and even though you were beyond sore and a little nervous about what could happen, you couldn’t be more excited and pumped for what was to come. 

[peter-parkouuuur]

Chapter 12: Papa Bear Mode (Spider-boy - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader)

WAH! Here’s Chapter 12!!!

I’ve watched FFH thrice and it still gets to me. Ugh, I love our little baby spider-boy.

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 13

Enjoy!!!

“Live in Madrid, watching the world’s favorite sport,” Peter mumbles as he holds his phone camera up high, filming another vlog.

“Also Peter’s first time to watch real football… not American football.” Y/n makes sure that the camera hears the remark.

“I forgot you’re part-European. Figures.” Peter scoffs jokingly, pointing the camera at her.

You just roll your eyes at him before noticing that one of the players scored a goal.

“GOAL!!!” Y/n shouts at the top of her lungs.

“Isn’t this fun?!” You sit back down beside Peter.

“I’ve never watched soccer before and this is pretty fun.” Peter laughs along, sporting the home team’s scarf.

“If I knew how hectic this whole thing is, I would’ve gotten us one of those VIP seats.” Tony grumbles, putting on his sunglasses, not so much for sun protection as it is night time, mainly just to hide his annoyance of it all.

Tony decided to join in watching the match at the last minute. It was either he goes around Madrid by himself or watches the game with Y/n and Peter.

“Our seats are amazing by the way. We’re like a few meters away from the players.” Peter looks at the football players in awe.

“It’s almost the 90th minute, we need one more goal.” Y/n grumbles tapping her feet uncontrollably.

“I’ve never seen you so tense, sweetie. I should bring you to sports events more often.” Tony looks at you in amusement.

“Oh no, you’re not dragging me into watching basketball with you. I’m not a fan.” You shake your head in disagreement.

“I’ll watch with you, Mr. Stark.” Peter volunteers.

“I’ll hold you to it, Parker.” Tony nods.

“Oh my god!” You are at the edge of your seat as you watch the striker head towards the penalty area.

“Come on! You can do it.” Peter stands up as you do the same.

“Holy shit.” You mumble.

“GOAAAAAAL!” The arena echoes in celebration.

You and Peter look at each other with grins on your faces. Peter ends his video as you grab the back of his head and kiss him for at least a good 5 seconds. Tony clears his throat looking at the two teenagers in the middle of an intimate celebratory embrace.

“Hi, dad.” Y/n awkwardly laughs.

“You’re grounded when we get back to New York, young lady.” Tony states, his face is stiff from being on Papa Bear mode.

The three walk out of the arena and see Happy parked right outside the stadium. Peter and Y/n are attached at the hip, hand-holding and cheek-kissing.

“Now you know how I feel.” Happy laughs as soon as he sees Tony’s annoyed expression.

“Remind me to lock the windows in Y/n’s room the second we get back to New York.” Tony tells Happy the second the two teenagers enter the car.

“They’re good kids, Tony. It’s just puppy love.” Happy shrugs his shoulders.

“Based on the kisses I just saw, I don’t think so.” Tony scoffs.

Happy just chuckles before sliding inside the driver’s seat. Tony slides in beside Y/n.

“Dinner at the hotel?” Tony suggests.

“Yes, please! I’m craving for Tapas right now.” You jump in your seat, the adrenaline from the football game still running fast.

“I take it your team won, Y/n?” Happy asks as he pulls into the traffic.

“Yes, we did win, with just seconds to spare before the 90th minute.” Y/n replies proudly.

Peter looks at you in amusement, still overwhelmed that he’s in Spain with the Starks and watched an actual game live.

“I have to admit, I’m starting to get why you’re into this sport.” Peter laughs.

“Well, I’m part French. I watched a lot of games in Paris with my brother. I’m so glad you enjoyed your first football game.” You giggle, taking Peter’s hand in yours.

The two teenagers intertwine their fingers, a blush creeping on both faces.

“I knew I should’ve brought Pepper with me.” Tony grumbles in his seat.

He doesn’t miss the hand-holding action happening between his daughter and Peter. He just shrugs it off and hides a smile.

‘If I have to give away my daughter to some guy, Peter Parker would be fine with me. He better not break her heart or there would be hell to pay.’ Tony thinks to himself, looking out the window.

Peter rubs his thumb across Y/n’s knuckles. 2 months after meeting Tony Stark, he’s been to multiple Stark Industries events, traveled to two countries, and got himself a girlfriend in the process. It’s all been too surreal for him that if he blinks long enough, he’d be back to his boring old life in Queens.

“You want to go around the city tomorrow morning? I mean, we do leave for New York in the afternoon, but if you’re up for it, we can like, stroll around or something?” Y/n suggests to Peter.

“That’d be awesome! Where will we go?” He asks.

“The palace, Plaza Mayor, Mercado de San Miguel…. Anywhere in a span of 6 hours.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Six hours?!” Peter raises his voice.

“Yeah?! Are six hours too short? We can always go out at 7 am, but I doubt anything will be open by then.” Y/n replies.

“No no, it’s fine! I just didn’t think that we’d need six hours just to tour around Madrid, that’s all.” Peter clarifies.

“We’re only here for two days. Might as well take advantage of it. We can always just ‘swing’ around.” You joke, emphasizing the word ‘swing’.

“I mean if it’ll beat traffic, why not?” Peter agrees.

“There will be no Spidey action when I’m around.” Tony interrupts the two of you.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.” Peter apologies.

“Fine.” You grumble.

Happy stops in front of the hotel and one of the hotel security opens the car door for Tony.

“Mr. Stark.” He greets with his thick Spanish accent.

Y/n and Peter follow Tony towards the hotel’s restaurant, La Rotonda.

“Feel free to eat your heart out, kids,” Tony tells you and Peter as the waiter shows you to your table.

“I don’t see why all of us have to share one suite?” You grumble, walking out of the bathroom in your pink pajamas.

“Because I don’t want to see anyone try and sneak out from his room to go to another room and do whatever it is that hormonal teenagers do.” Tony looks at you and Peter.

“We’ll be in the living room.” You tell your dad, grabbing Peter’s hand.

“Lights out by 12!” Tony exclaims.

“Check on them from time to time, won’t you?” Tony tells Happy.

“I’ll watch them like a hawk.” Happy nods in agreement.

“You were planning on swinging me around late at night, were you?” You ask Peter as the two of you sit down on the couch.

“Yeah, I actually was. I hear Madrid has a pretty good nightlife.” Peter replies, turning on the tv.

You snuggle to his side and rest your head against his chest as he put his arms around you.

“I guess staying in isn’t half bad though.” You sign, holding onto his arms.

“Your hair smells like coconut, I like it.” Peter sniffs.

“I don’t know how I feel about you sniffing my hair.” You giggle.

You sit up to face him properly, your heads just a few inches away from one another’s. He presses his forehead against yours before you finally pull him in to kiss him. It starts off very slow, his hands move to the back of your head, slowly caressing your hair while yours rest against his chest. Peter finally having the courage to continue further, coaxes you to open your mouth slightly as he slips his tongue and caresses it with yours.

“You’re a pretty good kisser, Peter Parker.” You laugh lightly, scrunching his shirt to pull him in, your legs on top of his.

“Well I have to keep up, you know?” He chuckles, his lips moving to your jaw then back to your lips.

The two of you didn’t feel anyone come in but a mist of cold water interrupts the two of you from your makeout session.

“What the hell?” Y/n curses.

You open your eyes to see Happy standing right in front of you and Peter.

“Don’t make me spray you two again.” He threatens.

“Wha?-“ Before you could protest, Happy raises the spray again.

“Okay! We got it.” Y/n grumbles.

Happy walks away. You and Peter look at each other before bursting into laughter. You wipe the water off his face.

“You know, I never really got to ask you properly…” Peter starts.

“Ask me what?” You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“If you wanted to be my girlfriend.” He uses the sleeve of his sweater to wipe off the water on your cheek.

“Peter, I’d love to be your girlfriend.” You smile at him.

A wide grin immediately appears on his face before he leans in to kiss you again, this time not as intense.

“Are you done kissing my daughter, Parker?” Tony walks in.

Peter sits up and coughs slightly. You move your legs off of Peter’s lap and follow your dad’s gaze. Happy follows suit and sits beside you.

“You know what they say in catholic schools, leave space for the Holy Spirit.” Tony sits beside Peter.

“What are we watching?” Tony looks at the tv screen.

“Tropic Thunder.” Y/n replies.

Peter takes your hand in his as the four of you watch the movie in peace, bursting into laughter a couple of times. Tony, again, doesn’t miss the hand-holding action going on between Peter and his daughter. He could sulk and tell them off about it, telling them to stay away but he knows Y/n might rebel if he presses harder than he should. Happy looks at Tony and glances at the two teenagers’ hands. Tony just nods and rolls his eyes.

“Wow. It’s like we’re not even in the room.” You look at your dad.

“You two are acting weird. What? You’ve never seen teenagers hold hands?” You look at your dad and Happy.

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m just not used to it. I’ve seen Nico but it’s different because you’re my princess. If Parker wasn’t so awkward and afraid of me, I would’ve threatened him to get away from you.” Tony jokes.

Peter’s eyes grew large and before darting his gaze at Tony.

“Dad, you’re seriously ruining movie night for me. Both of you.” You give your dad and Happy the death stare.

“Alright alright. We’ll try to keep quiet. But you are grounded the second we arrive in New York.” He tells you with a serious look on his face.

“That was serious? Because I kissed my boyfriend in front of you?!” You raise your voice.

“Boyfriend?!” Tony and Happy stand up in front of you and Peter.

You and Peter look at each other, not really knowing what to do or how to reply in this situation.

“I’m afraid I’m gonna have to cut movie night off early, go to bed, sweetie. Parker, you stay.” You slowly remove your hand from Peter’s hold.

“Good luck.” You mouth at him before walking away.

As soon as Y/n is out of sight, Tony and Happy look at Peter with stern faces.

“So my daughter is now your girlfriend, is she?” Tony starts.

“It’s time we have the talk, Mr. Parker.” Tony raises his eyebrows at the teenager who is awkwardly shifting his eyes between Tony and Happy.

“Now, a normal father would just warn you off and tell you that he’d kill you if you hurt his daughter… But you know that I am Iron Man and that I can destroy you if you hurt Y/n, take away your suit, and ban you from the Avengers headquarters.” Tony threatens, sitting down beside Peter.

“I don’t want to hear her complain about you, see her cry over you, or listen to her rants about you being a terrible boyfriend. There’s hell to pay, Peter Parker.” He finishes.

Tony puts his hand out for Peter to take.

“Congrats on not crying. Take good care of her.” Peter shakes Tony’s hand, still, a bit shook.

“I’ll take good care of her, Mr. Stark.” Peter assures him.

“Good. Go to sleep.” He motions for Peter to leave the room.

Happy just looks at Tony in amusement.

“The next thing you know Eloise might introduce you to her crush from school.” Happy jokes.

“That one will be much harder, I don’t know to threaten people in French.” Tony retorts.

“I told you they’re good kids.” Happy states.

“They are…. They’re good kids, but they’re also crazy for each other.” Tony shakes his head.

“Better him than some jerk with a trust fund.” Happy laughs.

“Yeah, and at least this one’s a genius. I might have to recommend him to MIT.” Tony stands up as the two father figures of Y/n head out to sleep.

Y/n and Peter are at the Plaza Mayor eating churros at 10 in the morning. People are beginning to trickle in numbers, just as the first working day of the week comes to a start. You finish off your last churro and notice that Peter still has at least two.

“Are you not hungry? What’s wrong?” You ask.

“Nothing. I’m just not in the mood for churros, that’s all.” Peter smiles at you.

“Did Happy and my dad say something to you? Is that it?” You raise your eyebrows at him before glancing at the guy who has been looking at your table for the past few minutes now.

‘Of course, Happy’s here.’ You think to yourself.

“No, I’m just… well yeah… We’re okay, right?” Peter inquires.

“Do you not want us to be okay? Peter, you need to relax. My dad is not the scariest man in the world. You’ve met Bucky, right? That one is scary.” You joke.

“He is awfully quiet.” Peter nods in agreement.

He lets out a sigh of relief before putting his churro out for you to bite which you happily agree to.

“You’re gonna make me fat.” You protest jokingly.

“I don’t think one churro is going to make you fat.” Peter kisses you on the cheek.

He spots a trinket store in his line of sight. He notices you wearing the charm bracelet that he gave you for your birthday.

“Where are you going?” Peter stands up from his seat and tells you that he has to do something very important.

You finish eating the remainder of his churros before he could come back to finish them.

“Put your right arm out.” Peter takes his seat beside you with a cute smile on his face.

“Okay?” You put your arm out and notice Peter clip a Spanish fan charm to her charm bracelet.

“Peter.” You gasp in awe.

“This is adorable. Thank you.” You smile at him shyly.

“I love it. Thank you.” You kiss him by the cheek knowing that Happy is only a few tables away from the two of you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles back at you, not knowing that Happy is present, and kisses you lightly.

“I’m gonna miss our little bubble here in Madrid.” You hold onto his hand.

“Me too. Compared to Queens, Madrid is quite the place.” Peter retorts.

“It is one of my favorite cities in the world. I’m glad dad brought you along with us.” Your thumbs caress his knuckles.

“There’s no place I’d rather be.” Peter replies kissing you again.

You happily kiss him back, your hands moving to his neck while his hands play with your hair.

“Happy’s here.” You pull away after at least 20 seconds.

“I know. I saw him trying to hide his face with the menu.” You and Peter look at your dad’s head of security.

You wave your hand at him and he waves back.

“It’s like we can’t catch a break.” You laugh.

“It’s better that he’s sitting at least 15 feet away from us. He won’t get to spray us this time.” Peter jokes.

“Well then, let’s give him a reason to get worked up again.” You giggle before leaning in to kiss your boyfriend again.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Tony sits on the chair opposite you and Peter with a stern look on his face.

“By the way, you two are not allowed to kiss for more than 5 seconds when I’m around. That’s an order.” Tony warns.

“Oh, but you and Pepper can?” You raise your eyebrows at your dad.

“That’s different. Pepper is my fiancée and we’re over 21.” Tony replies.

“Ugh. I hate it when you go full-Papa Bear mode on me.” You grumble.

“Sweetie, this is just the beginning.” Tony smirks at the two of you.

-------------------------------------------------

I’m so sorry I forgot to add the taglist in my previous chapter huhuhu!!

@capandbuck @multifandom-slytherin @accio-rogers @ccold-as-ice @nerdywitch @founding-fuck-bois @bookgirlunicorn @spidey-boio @antaraxy

@tom-hollands-eyelash @saturn-aka-six @sebbystanlover-vk

[peachiejamie]

Okay so!! This is for Mason and his Vast avatarsona! Feel free to ignore this if you aren’t him.

As for Mason... hi!! I hope you like it! And I hope you enjoy it! I’m sorry it took so long, today was a bit of a day for me, if I’m being honest. I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet expectations and I’d be happy to pull it down if you want. This was just for fun and I hope you love it!

Have a great day! And love you lots💓

- Jam💖

Heightened Nihilism

Statement of Mason Benderly, regarding his childhood, the Vast, and the sky. Original statement given May 11, 2018. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

I knew that the Eye had a pension for being a voyeur but nothing like this. I don’t know how any of you focus here, I’m getting a migraine and I only just started writing. Other than that though, it’s a pretty nice place.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m here to tell my story since I know that the Archivist gets a kick out of it so here I am. Besides, I heard that it’s pretty annoying when you force us to tell you. I don’t really care about my past so... here we go.

Looking back on it all, I think I’ve always had an attraction to heights. I always wanted to be tall, taller than anyone in the room and taller than I could ever be on my own. I was short so it wasn’t very alarming at the time.

I’d do anything to be as high up as I could go. It was thrilling! Climbing up rocks and trees that shouldn’t be climbed. And even then, climbing high enough to reach the branches that were a little too thin or the rocks that were a little too unstable. I used to care, back then, so I always climbed back down. Eventually, I always did.

It was always disappointing, the journey to solid ground. It was like coming back from a high, waking up from that perfect dream. Like returning from a fantasy world to this boring one we’re all stuck in.

That didn’t stop me from sitting on counters and tables though. Around the house, school, or... anywhere, really. My parents yelled at me a lot for it, called it unsanitary and that type of shit. I stopped after a while. I was tired of getting yelled at and... I had to be good, I had to be perfect. I had to be everything my brother wasn’t.

Speaking of... my younger brother was... problematic. Troubled, I suppose you could say? He was a disappointment, for lack of a better word. I loved him, don’t get me wrong but he was everything our parents didn’t want. So, of course, I had to be the “perfect” one. Perfect in everything. Grades. Friends. Emotional stability. The pressure was crippling. At least, it felt like it.

It’s kind of funny, how much I cared back then. I don’t know how I did it, how I invested so much stress and emotion. I was so worried about everything: my grades, my family, the way people perceived me. God, I was miserable.

Climbing was the only thing that brought me some sort of escapism. The only thing that ever gave me some sort of break from the shit situation I was trapped in. The higher I went, the more thrilling it was. The more I could see from where I stood, the more I craved for it. It started out with trees then houses and then it just got bigger and bigger and bigger. And with it, more and more dangerous.

But I didn’t care. just wanted more. I craved for more. I wanted to feel something, feel that exhilaration and that freedom as many times as I could for as long as I could.

The terror of it, of standing on a ledge too small for my feet and a height too giant for my body was addicting. It was all consuming and it was all I ever wanted.

It was just so... vast. It made me feel insignificant compared to everything. It made me feel like nothing mattered. It was liberating. Because if nothing mattered then I wouldn’t have to care. I thought I had to care. I thought I could only have those brief moments of bliss when I climbed or when my feet slipped and I almost fell.

Now that? That feeling of my stomach falling out from under me? That is the only drug that I ever want in my life.

Living in Nashville helped a lot with the climbing. Lots of buildings to scale, always one taller than the other but... it wasn’t enough in the end. I wanted more. I wanted to go higher. I wanted to get the closest to the sky I could get, to brush my fingertips over the clouds and feel that rush of something.

So...

I found a crane.

You don’t really realize how tall those things are. You don’t realize how tiny you are in comparison to it, not until you stand in front of it and really think about the scale of your small, fragile body compared to that towering mass of metal. It stretched into the sky, high enough that I got dizzy just staring at it, that I felt my knees buckle just touching it.

It was everything that I had wanted. Everything and more. And if I were to die climbing that thing, then I would have been happy with that.

I started climbing. Ring after ring, I pulled myself higher and higher and my heart seemed to drop to my feet the more the wind howled and the more the ground below me seemed to shrink. I couldn’t think over the whistle of the wind. I couldn’t breathe over the sound of my blood thrumming, pounding, and screaming.

I loved t.

I loved every second of it.

The adrenaline was gratifying and the numbness at the tips of my ears were perfect. I didn’t think I could have felt more alive than in that moment, and trust me, I wasn’t doing much living then. Just moving, just dragging my feet with a cloud of heavy, suffocating self-hatred chaining me to the ground.

That changed though.

That changed that day.

I was halfway up when I looked from the ground that confined me and then to the blue, never ending sky above me and suddenly there was a man there.

I didn’t know where he came from or what he wanted but he was there.

He was old and frail looking, appearing to be in his last years but there was a spring in his step. A look of freedom and unconfined, unadulterated joy. Distantly, I felt a pang of jealousy. I wanted what he had. I wanted to be as free as he looked.

I looked from him and then to the sky behind him and I felt my fingers slip.

It wasn’t dramatic.

My grip simply... slipped.

And then I fell.

I fell and I kept on falling. Falling and falling and falling evermore. I didn't hit the ground, I didn’t ever hit the ground. There was no yellow crane, no cold metal, no clouds in the sky. And when I turned, there was no dusty brown ground in sight.

There was just endless, infinite blue.

There was nothing but the sky, all consuming and infinite. There was nothing but the twisting of my stomach, nothing but the ever constant howl of wind in my ear. Nothing but deafening numbness in every inch of my body and every cell that came with it.

There was nothing and it was thrilling.

I have never in my life felt more insignificant and small. Never have I felt like nothing more but a spec of dust in the grand picture. Never have I felt like nothing mattered.

Nothing mattered.

Everything broke then. My whole world shattered, brain and mind and sanity and the very being that was me shattered. That’s the only way I could describe what I experienced. It was disjointed and painful and holy all at once. Because for the first time I realized that nothing mattered. Everything that I stood for and worked for and lived for, everything that chained me and locked me and choked me alive was built on the basis that it mattered.

But Archivist, nothing matters.

That fear that I felt meant nothing, the brief moments of joy and the people that we love are insignificant, and the lives that I would take for the Vast didn’t even mean a thing. I didn’t have to care. I didn’t care. I don’t care. There was no point in caring and there was nothing to care for.

And. It. Was. Cathartic.

In that moment, I let myself fall and fall and fall into the open and endless arms of the Falling Titan. Where I was nothing, where I meant nothing, where everything meant nothing. Where there was only blue that burned my eyes and howling that made my ears bleed. Where I was alive for the first time.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, trapped in the Vast. It could have been hours, it could have been years. Hell, it could have been mere seconds but I relished every bit of the thrill, of the fear, of the insignificance of it. It was perfect, and it was freeing, and it left me breathless.

Maybe you should join me one day, Archivist. It sounds so much easier than the love for humanity that you cling to. I don’t think you will, though. You’re stubborn, from what I’ve heard, but if you’re ever interested in climbing, you know who to call.

But going back to the important stuff, I made it out, one day. I made it out of the Falling Titan and back to the ground that used to imprison me. It didn’t trap me anymore, nothing did. It couldn’t confine me like it’s toy anymore.

It took me a while to understand that I wasn’t in Tennessee. For some god awful reason I was in London. I was disoriented, sick and lost and I didn’t know where I was or what I was doing but... I adapted.

And now I’m here.

So...

That was my story, Archivist. I hope you like it. And I hope you join me, one day, in the blue sky and the truth that nothing matters. Until then, though!

I think I’d like to go for a climb.

Statement ends.

Mason has always been a bit of a nuisance, I just never expected to find a written statement from him. Especially a statement directly addressed to me. Though, I can’t say I’m entirely surprised. Those who align with the Vast happen to be a lot more... unpredictable compared to the other avatars. I don’t know what it is with the Vast and it’s tendency to attract people like him, Simon Fairchild, and Mike Crew. I suppose it simply has an appeal.

Speaking of Simon Fairchild, he seems to be the avatar that sent Mason tumbling into the trauma of becoming another reoccurring character in the archives. Again, I can’t say I’m surprised.

As for the follow up, I cannot confirm nor deny the claims that Mason Benderly has left. I can only trust that he’s telling the truth, which I believe he is. America is too far away and we simply don’t have the ability to check on something like this.

And if he ever does get to hear this, no. I don’t think I will be joining him and his optimistic nihilism anytime soon.

End recording.

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 8

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2896

A/N: You guys I am SO SORRY that this is up so late this week! I ended up getting sick, and I've remained sick for longer than I would have liked. I’m thinking maybe an extra chapter this week to make up for it? We’ll see. Feedback is always appreciated (good or bad) and my requests are always open!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8: Play With Fire | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

The hall’s quiet, save for the consistent sound of heels clicking on the marble floor. You’re pacing, a nervous habit, chewing at your thumbnail as you think about the previous day’s events. The previous strategy of ignoring what happened until you forgot about it worked for a total of five hours. Your subconscious replayed the scene in your dreams over and over again all night long, leaving you more than relieved when it was a ‘normal’ time to be awake and you could stop tossing and turning. You hated feeling like this--you’re normally not the type of person to dwell on silly little moments that could have been.

“I thought I heard someone wearing a path into the floor.” You whip around, eyes lighting up at the sight of the tall blonde dressed in black.

“Madison!” You squeal, throwing your arms around her. “I didn’t know you were back!”

Madison’s hesitant at this show of affection, awkwardly patting your back while you hold onto her. “I got back yesterday.”

“How did things go?”

“Fine, just your normal lost souls trying to plan a mutiny. Easy enough to quell, but still annoying that it had to be dealt with.” She gently pulls your arms off of her, causing you to smile sheepishly. “But enough about that; did I hear correctly from Zoe that you learned some magic?”

You grin, nodding at the goddess. She produces a cigarette from thin air with the snap of her dainty fingers, and holds it out in your direction.

“Light this for me?”

You freeze for a moment. You had only gotten as far as telekinesis yesterday, managing to lift the desk in your room. Still, you think, it’s got to be close to the same technique as what Michael taught me yesterday, right? Channeling into the tingling feeling of power running under your skin, you imagine the cherry lighting red, thin plumes of smoke curling upwards. It only takes a second for the image in your head to materialize in front of you, and you giggle at Madison’s pleased face.

“Well color me impressed.” She takes a deep drag of the cigarette, holding the smoke in before puffing it out through her nose. You want to lecture her on the dangers of smoking before you remember that you’re standing in front of an immortal woman. “How long did it take you to light something on fire yesterday?”

“I only worked on telekinesis yesterday, that was my first time trying pyrokinesis.” Madison’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Seriously? That’s...that’s really good, (Y/N). Most of the witches I’ve trained have to go week-by-week with trying each of the Seven Wonders. Either Michael’s one hell of a teacher or your powers are extremely advanced.” Your cheeks color at the mention of Michael’s name, causing Madison to smirk.

“I-I mean, Michael is a pretty good teacher.” You stutter, grimacing slightly as Madison’s smirk widens.

“Did something happen between you two yesterday?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

“Yes and no.” You stop, coughing from the smoke slowly starting to cloud the room.

“Come on, let’s take a walk. There’s something I want to show you.” She wraps your arm around hers and starts to lead you to the destination she has in mind.

“It was just a quick lesson, I think he was just trying to cheer me up since I haven’t been able to find anything.” You start to explain. “After I learned telekinesis, I was just so excited and...Michael and I almost kissed.” You’re sure that Madison’s heard gossip much more scandalous than this, but she still gasps in joy at this.

“Shut up! Why didn’t you?”

“I got nervous! Seriously, almost kissing the man who kidnapped me? It’d be a textbook case of Stockholm Syndrome.”

“But you wanted to?”

“Yes, I wanted to! I think that’s what makes me the most mad.”

“What?”

“Am I just falling into some trap? Is Michael trying to woo me into staying here with him?” You scoff, shaking your head. “Let’s be honest though, I’m not even going to find a way to get back home.”

Madison pulls you to a stop, looking you in the eyes. “Be honest with me. Do you like it here?”

You look back at her, biting your lip as you think. The shock of being in Hell had lasted for a few days, but you had managed to establish a sort-of routine after the unfortunate first dinner you had with Michael. Now, you had people here who you considered to be friends, and you actually found yourself enjoying portions of your days.

“Yes, I do. But Madison, I have a life back Above. I have my family, friends, school. What about the career that I’m planning on? It’s looking like I have no choice but to stay here; I don’t want to cause the end of the world by being selfish. How would I possibly justify that to my family? I’d probably be put into a mental hospital, and then the world would end anyways.” Madison places her hands on your shoulders, stopping your babbling.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re fine. We will work something out, I promise.” For someone who doesn’t like affection, she’s very good at soothing you.

“I don’t want to be the reason that the world ends.” You whimper, fighting to keep the tears at bay. This has been the major topic on your mind for the past few weeks. Your actions, whatever you choose, will irreparably harm people. It’s a lot of pressure for one mortal woman to handle.

“You won’t be. After we’re done here, I’m going to go and find the original prophecy. Maybe, in all of the centuries since it had been heard for the first time, there was some mistranslation?”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, (Y/N). You’re the first ‘normal’ friend I’ve had in a very long time, and I care for you.”

“Thanks, Mads.” You resist the urge to hug her again, and she smiles.

“‘Mads.’ I like it. I’ve never really had a nickname before.”

“You do now. So what were you gonna show me?”

“Oh, it’s right outside!”

“Outside? Like...outside of the castle?” After almost getting eaten, you’re pretty content with staying here.

“Yes, but as long as we’re within the gates we’re fine. Plus, I’m here, and no one’s going to mess with me.” Madison opens a door and pulls you outside with her. “You can’t tell Michael that I brought you here. This is a surprise he’s been planning for you, but I just want you to know that he does care for you.”

It’s still a never-ending dark outside, but lanterns light the area that you’re in. A garden spreads ahead of you, one that was just recently planted by the looks of the buds on all of the plants.

“Michael did all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the smile on your face.

“Mmhm. He’s not known for having a green thumb, but he knows how much you miss home. He figured that, since there’s nothing else living here, some plants that you can help grow might cheer you up.”

“I can’t believe he would do th-”

“(Y/N), look!” Madison pulls your attention away from your feelings and points to the flowers closest to you. You can only watch in awe as they start to bloom, vibrant purples, blues, and greens coloring the pale dirt.

“Whoa, Madison, you made them bloom so fast!”

“I didn’t do that.” She shakes her head, and you look at her in confusion.

“Then who did?” You expect Michael to pop out, smiling that ‘i-know-something-you-don’t’ smile and proclaim how he’s great at everything, but that doesn’t happen.

“You did.” You can’t help but to laugh.

“Seriously? I can only light things on fire and move things, there’s no way I made those bloom.” Madison huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Seriously.” She mocks. “Just walk a little further, I want to test something.” You sigh, but indulge her anyways. Your hope is to prove her wrong, so you’re more than surprised when each flower that you walk past starts to bloom. They’re a variety of species’, colors, and types of petals, but the one thing they have in common is sprouting up towards you like you’re the sun.

“Holy shit.” You turn around, grinning at Madison.

“Again, not the words that I would use, but you have the right sentiment.” Your heart races when you see Michael standing in the doorway of the castle, watching you and Madison.

“Michael.” The man in question strides towards you, undoing all of the work you had just done on the flowers. He rolls his eyes when he sees what you’re looking at, the dead flowers crumbling and curling in on themselves.

“I see Madison ruined my surprise.” He jokes.

“At this rate, you were never gonna show her.” She fires back. When she notices you and Michael staring at her, she sighs. “Right, you two have things to discuss. I’ll just be going then.” With a wink she departs, leaving you and Michael standing alone in the garden.

The parallels between you two are striking. While there’s a blooming garden surrounding you and light being attracted towards you, the flowers that are mere inches away are dying under Michael’s gaze. A cloak of darkness covers him, in addition to the actual cloak he’s wearing.

“Did you know that I could do that?” You ask.

“I had my suspicions.” He shrugs. “Remember the part of the prophecy I told you about?”

“You mean the part about me having a direct effect on the end of the world?” You scoff.

“No, not that part. I meant the part about ‘she who can coax flowers to sprout with a single glance.’ Remember?” You nod, urging Michael to continue. “As far as I’m concerned, you passed. You’re the girl in the prophecy.”

Michael’s look of triumph turns to one of alarm when your eyes start filling with tears. “So that’s it? I’m stuck here? Madison told me you planted these to cheer me up, was that just a lie?”

“No, not at all!” He pulls you towards him, ignoring your attempts to get away.

“Let me go, Michael!”

“Listen.” He says sharply, and you still in his arms. “I didn't mean to scare you with that. You’re not stuck here, just because you are a part of the prophecy doesn’t mean we’re not going to stop searching. I believe Madison talked about going to find the original prophecy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then, we’ll wait until after she finds it, and we’ll go from there.”

You nod, but you’re still not convinced. “Why did you lie about what this garden was really for? You could have just told me that you wanted to test me.”

“I didn’t lie. Was it convenient? Absolutely. But I made this for you,” He gestures towards the rest of the garden. “To cheer you up. I know you miss being home, and I was hoping that this would help bring a bit of your home to you.”

“You’re so...so...ugh!” You make a noise that sounds vaguely like a scream and a sigh, waving your hands in the air for emphasis. Michael’s lips twitch as he tries to hide his amusement.

“Care to elaborate?” He asks.

“You are the most confusing, infuriating person I’ve ever met. You’ve kidnapped me, managed to creepily tell me a prophecy while laughing like a crazy person, banished a demon to--I don’t know, another part of Hell?”

“Tartarus.” Michael supplies when you take a breath.

“Yeah, that. You can be mean, and cruel, and arrogant, and sometimes you can be downright nasty-”

“Pardon, but is there a point to this?”

“Don’t interrupt me and there will be!” You have to close your eyes and take a deep breath before starting again. “You’re all of these terrible, horrible things, but then you have a completely different side. You’ve let me set up shop in the library of my dreams, saved me from someone’s personal hell, and taught me how to use magic. You can be kind, and witty, and so thoughtful. You say that I’m trapped here, that I’m a part of your prophecy and that I’m meant to rule by your side, but then you comfort me and reassure me that you’ll help figure out a way to get me back home. It--it confuses me, honestly.”

“‘Conscience doth make cowards of us all.’” Michael mutters, pursing his lips as he thinks.

“Did you just quote Shakespeare?”

“So they do still teach the important subjects.”

“Yes, but we can talk all about the public school system later, okay? Why did you quote Shakespeare?”

“I’m afraid that the process of overthinking has turned me into a coward.” When you don’t flinch at Michael’s hesitant touch on your face, he smiles. “I must confess to you that, after our near-encounter yesterday, I’ve been nervous to see you again.”

“Really? You, nervous to see me?”

“Oh, don’t act so shocked. You think I’m confusing? You’re stubborn, and nosy, and can pack quite the punch when you need to. But you’re also incredibly smart and well-versed, you have a heart of gold, and I’m pretty sure you’re the personification of light. I...I care for you, deeply. Prophecy or no prophecy, you’re the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met.”

“Michael.” You blush, rolling your eyes.

“I’m not exaggerating. (Y/N), I’ve been around for a long, long time. I’ve seen civilizations rise and fall, wars fought, and every possible major historical event you could think of. I have met women considered to be the most beautiful of their times, and for good reason. But no one, goddess or mortal, can hold a candle to how beautiful you are to me.”

You’ve been in relationships (well, kind of, if you count Snapchatting for three weeks before ghosting each other) before, and men have told you how ‘cute’ you are. Your friends remind you that you’re smart, and sometimes you’ve been called ‘too nice.’ Never before has somebody talked to you like Michael just did. You’ve never been complimented like this, let alone by an immortal god.

“Michael?” You call out. Your faces are incredibly close, almost in exactly the same positions as they were yesterday.

“Yes?” He responds, gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes.

“Kiss me?” Michael just barely nods before eagerly pressing his lips to yours.

In books and movies, kisses are always described as feeling like fireworks, the kind of kisses that make the whole world fade away and romantic music playing from an unknown location as a fountain that you weren’t aware was behind you starts spouting joyfully. The girl’s foot almost always pops up, a misconception you thought was real for 16 years (thanks, Anne Hathaway). The kisses you had experienced before were usually sloppy, full of too much tongue and leaving you feeling awkward and disappointed. This kiss with Michael is different than both of those.

His lips are soft, yet the pressure is pleasurably firm. You’re not sure if it’s a natural gift of his or if it’s one cultivated from thousands of years of experience, but he’s damn good at this. One of your hands is tangled in his hair while the other rests on his shoulder, and he caresses your cheeks with his hands. You sigh happily, and Michael uses this opportunity to gently slip his tongue in your mouth. You used to think using tongue was nasty, but Michael is artfully skilled at this as well. You only pull away when you have to breathe, chest heaving and head spinning.

Michael’s face is flushed, and you’re sure yours is too. When he tries to kiss you again, you stop him with a hand on his chest, confusing him.

“Is it something I did? I haven’t kissed anyone in a while, but-”

“No! No it wasn’t anything you did, you were great! Seriously, that was amazing. I just need to think, it’s been a...crazy day, y’know?” Michael smiles slightly, nodding.

“I understand.” He takes your hand in his. “I should have told you this sooner, but there’s going to be a ball here tomorrow. It’s one that I’m forced to host every year, and those on Olympus make their way down here to my domain. If you’re up for it, I would like for you to accompany me.”

“Are you trying to ask me to be your date, Michael?” You tease, smirking at him.

“Yes, that would be correct.”

“I would love that.” He may call you ‘the personification of light,’ but the smile he gives you could rival the lamps burning above you.

“I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, then. I’m afraid I must be going now. Would you like me to escort you back inside?”

“No, if it’s okay with you I think I’d like to stay out here for a little while longer.”

“That’s perfectly alright, it is your garden after all.” Ever the gentleman, Michael kisses your hand before turning to leave. It’s only the door leading to the castle closes that you squeal, jumping up and down in excitement. When you come to a stop, you realize your next task is incredibly daunting: finding a fancy dress to wear.

Tag List: @queencocoakimmie @nana15774 @lichellaw @sammythankyou @sebastianshoe @pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58 @let-me-try-mom @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @alexcornerblog @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove @ccodyfern @henrycavillstalkingmustache @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26

[trickkombowerskru]

The Bowers Gang Find Out Their Crushes Killed Someone

Request: Anonymous: What if the bower peeps crush snuck into their room one night? Their shirt is torn and covered in blood. That had a date that night, they were attacked the date turned tail and ran leaving them to fend for themselves. His house was the closest one and they just need a proper shirt then they say they are gonna leave. They are shaking and slightly scared and end up admitted they killed the man and would do it again to stay alive. (With Henry they made sure that butch was out of the house)

A/N:I am so sorry this took long to get out anon

Warnings: None

Henry 

You weren’t  sure how it had happened really

Becoming friends with Henry Bowers

And close enough friends where you snuck into each others houses when needed

Him more than yours obviously because of Butch

But tonight it wasn’t really much of a sneak in

You look and see Butch’s cruiser is gone

Figuring he was out on a late shift or something you barely make it up to the door

Shaking and crying as you do so

You just really needed a friend right now

And Henry you figured was both right there and either  wouldn’t ask questions or be understanding

You knock on the door and Henry opens it, shirtless and only wearing sweatpants

It was early in the night so you knew you didn’t wake him up

His eyes popped out of his end when he saw you crying, shirt tattered, and covered in blood.

“Jesus what happened to you,”

“C-Can I just come in and clean off, maybe get a shirt, then I’ll be gone”

“Y-yeah, come in and get your self cleaned up”

After you come out of the shower, you dry off,,putting most of your outfit back on, aside from your now ruined top

Changing instead into Henry’s red tank top that he wore all the time

His breath slightly hitches when he sees you in his shirt

Not only was it hot as hell for him to see

But also because since it was a muscle tank, one that was slightly large on you at that, the sleeves showed off the sides of your bra

He snapped out of it when he saw you shaking

“Holy shit you’re shaking and- and crying again. Seriously what the hell happened?” 

You just hug him and cry harder. 

"Wait didn't you have that date with that dickhead tonight? Did he hurt you? I swear to God-"

“No No he didn't. He was walking me back home when this crazy guy with a knife and a gun just jumped out of the bushes and started threatening us. We were so terrified, but after getting a few cuts Dylan bolted just leaving me there. The man tried to....he cut a few parts of my shirt open but then......I kneed him in the nuts to get him off of me and I.....I stabbed him and I tried to get away but he was going to shoot me so I used some of that fight training you gave me roughed him up a bit and then.....I kicked him in the face, picked up his gun and I shot him. Henry I shot him. And I tried to make sure it wasn't a lethal shot just enough to scare him, but it ended up being a kill shot. Henry I-I just killed a man and I had no where to go and you were close and I figured you would be okay....I just.....I don't know what to do and I'm scared Henry.  

You can see his eyes turn huge as he processed you just murdered a man in self defense.

"Okay well if I'm so close you did get rid of the body right?"

"....Well no...but you aren't close enough to get framed or anything and I....." 

"You can um stay here tonight if you need to.....I'm just glad you're okay. And God damn you best believe Dylan is gettin' his ass kicked 12 different ways tomorrow for leaving you there."

He tells you that you can sleep in his bed and he'll sleep on the couch

But you were still terrified you so insisted he sleep with you

You take off your shoes and jeans

Leaving you only in his shirt and your underwear, minus a bra of course

And now because of the lack of bra if Henry wanted to he could now see the side view of your boob

But he was way too freaked out to do that 

He calls Patrick and you hear him talking,trying to vaguely explain the situation

He comes in to you with your knees hugged to your chest as you sit on the bed.

"Patrick said he'll be over in 20 minutes to uh....take care of it"

You just nod and lay down knowing if Hockstetter's crazy ass is getting rid of the evidence that you'll be fine

You're still shaking as you pull the covers up wanting nothing more than for this to disappear

Henry awkwardly gets in beside you and you can feel his body heat up more

You snuggle up and cling to him as he holds you while you cry 

He knows now isn't the time to admit he has a thing for you 

So tonight he'll just enjoy holding you close and providing a comfort you usually give to him

Patrick

Now this is Patrick we are talking about 

If he gets a thing for you there is no telling what he'll do

It could go from simple groping attempts to full on stalking

Which in most cases would be awful

But when he heard you had a date with Steve, he knew he had to follow you 

He sees it all

The crazy guy 

The way Steve runs away, making him the new target for the gang

The way you fight

The stab

He takes care of the body for you and then makes his way back home 

Of course with his lanky legs he makes it back there before you

And you aren't any the wiser that he saw it

He sees you crying and covered in that douche's blood, and smiles as you hug him

He thinks you look so damn gorgeous this way

You shower and he gives you one of his shirts

His yellow Tom shirt specifically

And obviously you have more curves than the literal stick of a boy who leant it to you 

They cause it to go up and rest right on your hips stopping just a few inches before your underwear, 

Which you only had left to stay in because your pants were covered in blood 

Even though he know Patrick asks what happened and his eyes light up as you recall the story

He tells you, you can stay the night

And then it's time to try and fall asleep at his attempts to grope you

Even though he didn't care he knew he couldn't tell you about his thing for you at this moment because of how shaken up you were

So he held back and didn't, but was going to soon. 

Vic

Vic wasn't exactly thrilled when he heard you had a date with Tyler

He was even less thrilled when you came to his house crying and covered in blood at 11 at night

He let you shower and then change into his basic white shirt and some baggy pajama bottoms and he put your clothes in the washer

Upon hearing what had happened tonight and about how Tyler ran away

Damn 

Well first he knew he had to get the boys to beat the shit out of Tyler 

And second he was shocked not knowing what to do

He saw how hurt you were

And it was ind defense so it wasn't like you wanted to do

Maybe it should've changed the way he felt about you 

But it didn't 

He held you and let you cry

Now knowing that he would have to wait even longer for his feelings for you

Belch

Holy shit 

Well first thing is first he lets you cry as long as you need to

He let's you shower

And he gives you one of his band shirts -which might as well have been a dress on you- 

He is scared at first when you tell him

But he knew you didn't have a choice

What he also knew is that he still loved you 

Nothing could make him stop

But unlike the other boys Reggie doesn't have the best timing 

Whilst ranting about how much of a douche Chris was for leaving you he let it slip that he has a thing for you 

On top of all the trauma you didn't know what to say

While Reggie flustered out an apology so quick

As he turned bright red

Pushing the trauma aside you thought about it

You did like Reggie an awful lot too

You tell him after this all blows over that you two can go out trying to start a relationship

And he goes to sleep happy and content holding you in his arms

[not-a-space-alien]

Into the Unknown, Part 16:  There and Back Again

Prologue | Dramatis Personae | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series masterpost

On AO3

Metatron had been making excellent progress with their physical therapy. They were now able to sit up unassisted and, if Raphael was there supporting them by the elbow, walk slowly. They still seemed rather vegetative, though, and hadn’t spoken yet, taking in the world through foggy, unfocused eyes.

Metatron might be the only angel to ever be smote directly by God and live to tell the tale, if they ever recovered enough to tell it.

Currently, Raphael was sitting with Metatron at a table laid out for a tea party in the Judgement Hall, under the rift in space through which his friends had disappeared a few days ago.  Raphael nibbled some teacakes and sipped from a white cup daintily.  Metatron stared off into Raphael’s shoulder absently.

“How are you feeling today?” said Raphael.

Metatron’s eyes drifted up to Raphael’s face.

“Do you want some tea?”

Metatron’s gaze drifted down to the cup of tea in front of them.  Raphael helpfully lifted his cup and demonstrated taking a sip.  He had already made sure Metatron’s tea was lukewarm so they wouldn’t burn themselves.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and without looking away from Metatron or setting down his teacup said, “No.”

Space threw herself onto the ground, rolling dramatically and wailing. BUT I’M ALMOST FINISHED.

“You can’t close it up until they come back through.”

I TOLD THEM I WOULD EVEN IF THEY WEREN’T BACK.

“Doesn’t matter.”

THEY KNEW THE RISK THEY WERE TAKING.

“Doesn’t matter.”

Space flickered towards the spatial rend.  Raphael stood up.  “I said don’t.  I’m sure they’ll be back any minute now.”

Space pouted.

“Do we have to have another talk with Noah?”

Space flitted away.

Raphael reseated himself.  Metatron hadn’t moved an inch, but was looking at their teacup.

“Go on,” Raphael encouraged.

With a sluggish hand, Metatron reached out and took the handle in a weak grip.

“Yes!” said Raphael.  “There you go!”

Suddenly, Raphael heard a faint screaming coming from above him, rapidly getting less faint.  He looked up to see the archangel Victoria, a bit worse for the wear and missing an arm, along with Ramial clinging to her like a monkey.  The two had come streaking out of the rift in space like a comet.

They smashed into the table, flinging silverware and dishes everywhere and dragging it a few feet as they ground to a halt.  They had dragged the table out from under the Metatron’s lifted cup, and Metatron now looked at where the table had been with a slightly confused look on their face.

“Goodness!” said Raphael.  “Are you all right?”

Aziraphale and Crowley came out next, dragging an unfamiliar-looking archdemon between them, and landed on top Raphael.

“Ah….excuse me,” said Raphael from underneath Aziraphale’s ample posterior.

Mykas and Maltha, arms linked, landed gracefully in Raphael’s field of vision—or at least he assumed that’s who they were, based on their feet.

CAN I CLOSE IT NOW? said Space.

“Yes,” said Maltha’s voice, and her feet disappeared from Raphael’s view. “That’s everyone who’s coming.”

Huffing, Raphael hefted Aziraphale off himself, and the lesser angel slid gracefully onto the ground where Crowley was sitting, rubbing his head.

Raphael stood, brushing himself off, then looked to the group, noting Uriel’s absence and the addition of a new archdemon.  “Ah…How was it?”

Victoria pried Ramial off herself.  “You have no idea.”

Above their heads, Space weaved a thread in and out of the fabric of reality, stitching it shut and sealing them safely off from the unknown.

************************

Mykas, Victoria, and Ramial all reported to the infirmary for treatment. Vycra came after some coercing, but she could barely stand, let alone run away, so she had little choice in the matter.

Maltha refused treatment this time.  Raphael had a suspicion that she would always refuse treatment as long as she could walk and talk well enough to verbalise scorn for Raphael’s methods. And Aziraphale and Crowley for once found themselves among the ranks of the uninjured, so they just hung about.

Raphael reported Satan had been spotted lurking around the edges of Limbo, but hadn’t made a proper appearance yet.  Everyone was on the defensive and as such, they decided it would be best for Aziraphale and Crowley to stay in Heaven until such a time as they could be escorted back down to Earth safely.

Aziraphale and Crowley hadn’t made it much of a habit of walking around Heaven—it had unpleasant memories for Aziraphale, and for Crowley after the novelty had worn off it became a painful reminder of everything he had been denied. However, on the occasion they found themselves there, there was a route they usually took—they strolled leisurely around the perimeter of the gates, passed the infirmary and the offices for Earthly affairs, and ended with a nice sit down in the courtyard in front of the fountains.  The fountains were empty now, which was a bit of a disappointment as they had always been quite pretty, but no one had felt like offering their own skin to test the hypothesis that holy water would no longer hurt demons.

Aziraphale sat on a bench staring at the empty fountains.  Perhaps he was wishing there were some ducks to feed. Crowley walked the length of the bone-dry edge, balancing on it with his arms out.

“Welcome home, dear,” Aziraphale told him.  “It wasn’t quite home without you.”

Crowley smiled at him.  “Home is wherever we’re together.”

“Still….I’d rather be together here than there.”

“Me too.  That place was….”  Crowley looked at his wrist.  “I really wish there was a way to get this tattoo off.  It won’t budge no matter what I try.  The spellwork in it has got its claws in me deep.  I’m about to just cut my hand off.”

“It doesn’t appear to be hurting anything right now,” said Aziraphale. “Right?”

“No…” said Crowley.  “It hasn’t come to life since we crossed over, and I really doubt their Satan can see through it…But still, I’d like to be rid of it.”

“Yes.  Perfectly understandable.  That Satan…even scarier than our own, if I may say so.”  Now that everything had safely worked out for Aziraphale, he found it in himself to retroactively care for the decisions they had made in the other world, since they were safely away from it and could do nothing further.  “I do hope she hasn’t managed to do anything with the Book of Life.”

“Yeah…”

“We took it from Heaven under the assumption they would get it back in a few days, and that’s probably not going to happen.”

“…Yeah.”

“Hopefully that doesn’t cause anything dreadful.”  Aziraphale tossed a rock.  “And I wonder how Uriel is doing.”

Crowley flopped down, dangling his legs.  “I want to be optimistic, but deep down I suspect she was simply torn to shreds a few minutes after we left.”

Aziraphale nodded morosely.  “She seemed sure it was the right thing to do, though.”

“She’s always been sure everything she does is the right thing to do.”

An archdemon could be seen approaching them in the distance.

“Not so much recently though,” said Aziraphale.  “She had been doing quite well.”

Crowley twiddled his thumbs.  “Yeah.  All the same, I don’t miss her.”

“I don’t think anyone does.”

Aziraphale raised his head to greet the new arrival.  “Except, perhaps, Maltha.  Speaking of…”

Maltha gave a wave.  Her wings were evidently all healed up, glossy and black trailing behind her. The wounds on her face were mostly gone, which was quite impressive considering how little time she’d had.

Crowley’s thoughts drifted back to those healers that had patched him up in the blink of an eye.  They would probably laugh if they saw what this universe considered impressive on that front.

“Maltha,” said Crowley.  “Can you please get this thing off my wrist?  I’ve tried everything I know, but it won’t budge.”

Maltha looked at the proffered wrist, touching it gingerly.  “That’s an awful lot of spellwork tangled up around you, Crowley.  I don’t know if I could get it off without hurting you.”

Crowley let his hand drop sourly.  “I really would prefer if there were another way besides just cutting my hand off, but it’s looking more and more like that’s the case.”

Maltha sighed, looking weary.  “We can ask Lyra to look at it.  Besides that, how is everyone doing today?”

Crowley took a seat on the bench next to Aziraphale.  “Better.”

“Same.”  She sighed and squeezed onto the bench next to Crowley.  “Seems like there’s always something.”

“You heard about Satan being spotted, then?” said Aziraphale.

Maltha slouched down, staring into the empty white sky.  “That bastard’ll stay clear of everyone if he knows what’s good for him.  Everyone’s been won over by now.  I doubt anyone is eager to support him. Except maybe Hastur.”

Aziraphale rolled a rock over in his hands.  “He’s become the next Uriel.  Knocked from his high-horse by reality, and realising what a loser he really is.”

“Yeah,” said Crowley.  “Honestly, I think even he would be scared of the version of Satan that exists next door.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Uriel’s probably gotten her ass kicked by now,” said Maltha, mirroring their thoughts earlier.

“We can always be optimistic,” said Aziraphale primly.

Maltha stretched out her clawed toes.  “She told me a secret nobody else in this universe knows before I left, and I don’t think she’d want for me to tell anyone else, but she’s not here any more, so fuck her.  Uriel invented the angel dust spell.”

Aziraphale whipped his head towards Maltha.  “What?”

“‘We all rebelled in our own little ways, back when we were all hurting from the host being torn in half.’  That’s what she told me.  Just after the rebellion, her heart ached for her siblings just like mine did, so she made the angel dust spell so they could come back into Heaven, but she was so scared of what she had made all she could do with it was bury it somewhere on Earth for someone else to find down the road.”

They contemplated this for a moment.

“It makes sense, in a way,” said Maltha.  “I should have guessed—as the only Aural class angel, she’d be the most likely one to be able to do that, but I wouldn’t have thought…”

“Makes me wonder what the other archangels have kept hidden from that time,” said Crowley.

Aziraphale turned to him.

“‘We all rebelled in our own little ways,’” he repeated.

“Speaking of archangel secrets,” said Maltha, “Uriel hid the Book of Life, and now nobody knows where it is.  She forgot to tell me that before we left.”

“Criminy,” said Crowley.  “We don’t even know anything about our own universe, let alone the one next door.”

“Next door…” murmured Maltha.  “How far does it go?”

Crowley picked at Aziraphale’s sleeve.

“That was ‘next door,’” said Maltha.  “And all things considered, it was actually really similar to our world.”

“Space said likely more similar ones are arranged next to each other,” said Aziraphale, with some attempt at helpfulness.

Maltha threw out her arms, as if to say Where to even begin with that.  “So there’s more, right?  How many? If you get far enough out, would you find one where angels and demons don’t exist at all?  Where humans don’t exist?  Where…”

“You’ll drive yourself mad with that line of thought,” said Aziraphale.

Maltha kicked her feet idly, groaning.  “But I wanna know.”

“The humans went to the moon because they wanted to know,” said Crowley. “Maybe we could do something similar. Have a journey into the far dimensions.”

“Reckon that’s what we just did,” said Maltha.  She stood, stretching.  “All right.  I suppose I’d better go see if Raphael needs any help, though somebody knows I’d rather just take you two back down to Earth.”

“We could just go,” Aziraphale said hopefully.

Maltha shook her head.  “No, I’ll go see if he needs any help.”

Maltha ambled back to the infirmary and Aziraphale and Crowley, being bored, followed along.  They passed Adramelech on the way, who strummed a harp to the delight of a few angels nearby.

“Hey, Aziraphale!” Adramelech called, waving.

“Hello!” Aziraphale returned.

They reached the infirmary.  Maltha almost ran smack into someone who was coming out.

It was Vycra.  Underneath her bandages, she was blushing guiltily, as though being caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing.

Aziraphale noted she was walking with a crutch.  “It looks like Raphael isn’t quite finished with you yet,” he said, with a tut-tut.

Vycra looked down.

“Were you trying to sneak out?” said Crowley gently.

“Am I not free to leave?” snapped Vycra.  “You’re going to keep me prisoner here?”

“Is there something wrong?” said Maltha.  “Have you been mistreated?”

Disgruntled, Vycra shifted on her bad foot.  “Well, no, not yet—”

“Vycra,” said Crowley, tentatively putting a hand on her arm. “I meant what I said.  This universe is at peace.  You don’t have to be scared to stay in Heaven, and you don’t have to be scared of any of the angels.”

Vycra’s eyebrows shot up.  “I never said I was—”

“And you don’t have to pretend to be tough, either.  It’s OK to be vulnerable.”

Vycra refused to make eye contact.

“Where were you planning to go?” said Aziraphale.  “All by yourself?”

“I’ve survived through the worst by myself for six-thousand years,” said Vycra. “I’m sure I’d be fine.”

“I’m sure,” said Maltha.  “But you don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Vycra looked at her.

****************************

Maltha completely backtracked on her decision and decided she had had enough being selfless, and wanted to ditch Raphael.  They decided two archdemons were enough of a bodyguard that it was safe to go back down to Earth, so Aziraphale and Crowley led Maltha and Vycra into the bookshop.

Aziraphale told Vycra she could browse the books and relax, putting on the kettle in the back room.  Vycra didn’t respond to that and immediately pointed to the sofa and asked what it was.

“It’s just a sofa,” said Crowley.  “Have you never seen one before?”

“It’s like an easy chair, but very long,” said Vycra, bewildered.

“Do they not have those where you’re from?” said Maltha.

Vycra flopped down onto it.  “It’s like a bed, but not as flat.”

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other.

“Cozy…”

“All right,” said Aziraphale.  “Make yourself comfortable.”

It was then that he noticed the letter sitting on the counter, sealed with the signet of the King of Hell.

Dear Aziraphale and Crowley,

I’ve heard of your safe return and am overjoyed at your success. I’m sure you and the others will have plenty of stories to tell about your experience, but I’ve been told a rough account of the events.  I understand there is a new archdemon in our world now, and I’d appreciate it if you could escort her down to meet me at the earliest convenience, if it’s possible. I wish to welcome her.  

I’m sure you have an escort with you at present—probably Maltha.  Please be sure to stay by her side as I would hate to see anything happen to you, some of my oldest friends, with the news of hostile forces returning.  

Please come down at your earliest convenience as I’d like to talk with you about something else, too.  I am planning another feast, more ambitious than ever before, and would like your help with it.  We can talk more about it later.  In the meantime, keep yourselves safe.  Hope to see you soon.

Noah, Son of Satan, Lord of Darkness, King of the Bottomless Pit, etc. etc.

“Uh, angel?” said Crowley, sounding unsure of himself.

Aziraphale assumed that Crowley had been reading over his shoulder, but Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley was eyeing up the front door.

Where two figures had appeared.

One of which had long, flowing blond hair and hateful, angry, infernal eyes like two pools of molten sulfur.

Satan.  With Hastur by his side.

Maltha’s feathers rustled as she extended her wings, one over Aziraphale, one over Crowley, and crossed her arms, locking eyes with Satan and scowling challengingly.

Satan inclined his head, looking at Crowley specifically.  Hastur had leaned over and was saying something into his ear, inaudible through the glass.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Crowley said.  “Not anymore.  This new order may be unprecedented, and it may be unknown and unpredictable, but it’s light-years better than anything you did.  And it’s not going to topple over just because you show up and get bloody pissy.”

Satan watched him speak.  Maybe he could hear him, or read his lips, Crowley couldn’t tell.  But Satan’s face darkened in a glower, and whether he was properly warded off by Maltha or by Crowley’s unprecedented fearless standing of his ground, Satan slunk away without even touching the shop door’s knob.

*******************************************

Yulera had made note of the presence of a new archdemon across the street with indifference, thinking that it was all well and good as long as she stayed away from Yulera’s shop.

Odd that a new archdemon would appear, but she didn’t really care.  She had heard about the weird stuff happening with the Foundation angels, but that didn’t really affect her.

She had just finished taking down the boards on the windows so she could clean them, and she was in the process of boarding them back up when the bell on the shopfront door swung open.

Yulera pouted and went to see who had entered.  It was Kabata.

Yulera looked down her nose at him.  “I thought I told you in no uncertain terms I didn’t need you anymore.”

“I know,” said Kabata.  “But I need something.”

“I don’t care!” said Yulera hotly.  “You can’t manipulate me anymore!”

“No, I mean…”  Kabata held out a bundle of papers in his right hand, the topmost of which appeared to be a shopping list.  “I need a book.”

“Oh.”

“Do you have—”

“Go buy it from Aziraphale.”

“Aziraphale told me to come buy it from you.”

Yulera scuttled behind the counter and frowned.

“He said he didn’t have this one, but knows that you do.”

Yulera noted with distaste that a new section of books had appeared in her stock.  Aziraphale must have used a clandestine miracle to put them there for the sake of salvaging his own collection.

Well, that was fine, then.  More for her.

“What is it, then?”

“Do you have art and craft books?  Specifically knitting and crochet.”

Yulera narrowed her eyes.  Then she noticed the figure standing outside the shop, looking wary.  It was the archangel Gabriel.  Or should she say, former archangel Gabriel, because although he had never gotten a demotion in any official sense, the informal and quite painful one he had received had pretty much the same effect.

He had armfuls of yarn of every colour and a pair of neon purple knitting needles.

Yulera pointed to the corner where the aforementioned books were. “Over there.”

“Thanks.”

Kabata went over and browsed, his huge, clawed hands pawing weirdly through the thin volumes.  “Did you get an invitation to Noah’s celebratory feast?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going?”

“Are you?”

Kabata held up two books side by side, comparing.  “Not only did I get an invitation, but Noah also sent me and Gabriel a follow-up letter specifically asking us to go.”

“What?  Why?”

Kabata shrugged.  “Did you read why he’s having it?  If Gabriel wasn’t there, it would kind of defeat the purpose.”  He put one of the books back and brought the other to the counter.  “We don’t really want to, but I guess I could suffer through it.”

“That’ll be fifteen pounds,” said Yulera.

Kabata put a note on the counter.  “Keep the change.  I don’t need it.”

Yulera took the note.  “Neither do I.  None of us really need money.”

Kabata strolled to the entrance.  “Then I guess you won’t mind if I shoplift.”

He plucked the second book he had been eyeing up off the shelf and exited the building, walking off with Gabriel.  Yulera watched them go, pursing her lips and trying to decide whether or not she wanted to chase after them to retrieve the stolen volume.

**********************************

The thing about Agares was that she had always been more interested in spellcasting than Satan had been.  When contesting for Satan’s throne, she had been the one to decide the Angel Dust spell was a leg-up in the war, and the only one who had managed to recover it for her factions.  She had also been able to mostly block Lyra’s attempts to track her when searching for Aziraphale, and now that she was trapped in the Pit, Lyra could feel a near-constant bombardment of magic hitting the wall keeping the Pit sealed as Agares continually growled and rattled the bars of her confinement. 

Lyra had been the one to hone in on this and subsequently suggest to Noah the keystone through which they might work on Agares’s reformation. 

Agares’s aptitude for magic stemmed likely not from her intelligence, which was not overly abundant, but from her celestial charge before the fall.  Lyra was precisely the opposite; she had very little in the way of simmering raw power, but she was particularly skilled in magical applications. 

This is why Maltha had hired her to be the court magician all those years ago, despite her low rank, and why she continued to be kept on in Noah’s court, because Maltha was good at recognising intelligence in others and using it to plug her own weak spots.  Maltha liked to fancy herself a patron of magic, but she knew very little in practicality aside from the applications of her own natural tool set, which was not particularly inclined for things like sigil work, tracking spells, summoning rituals, and the like. 

This was what Lyra was really good at.  This is also why there is far more lore about demon-summoning and Satanic rituals and infernal glyphs on Earth than there are about summoning and binding angels, because Lyra had a bad habit of writing down her work and then losing track of it in the mortal realm.  

She held one such volume in her hands now, flipping through it lazily.  Her feet rested propped up on the table where she had all her spell ingredients, and the whole setup was sitting inside a large circle chalked on the stone floor of the throne room beneath her.  Agares stared at her from across the room with anger, unable to step across the magic-imbued line keeping her in the corner. 

Lyra had been sitting where she was for a good three hours.  They both refused to be the first one to speak, and were engaged in a game of chicken to see who would break the silence first. 

The answer turned out to be Agares.  “I give up.  What are you doing?” 

“She speaks!” Noah shouted, from way across the room where he was keeping an eye on things while engaged in other business. 

“Shut up!” Agares yelled.  “You whelp!  You utter—” 

“Since you asked so politely,” said Lyra.  “What I’m doing is trying to figure out why my tracking spell won’t work on you.” 

 Agares sat on the floor cross-legged.  “Hmph.  Why do you care?  You already know where I am.” 

“Of course,” said Lyra.  “But it’s for science, you see.  I’ve never had anyone block a tracking spell before, so I want to figure out how to works.” 

“But why do you care?” 

“That’s my job.” 

Agares crossed her arms, pouting.  “Hmph.  Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

“Yes, I would, actually.” 

Agares looked down her nose at her. 

This part had been Noah’s idea.  Because getting Agares to bond with Lyra would be a good first step to getting her to behave, and bonding over a shared interest was a good starting point.  And there are few things anyone loves to talk about over one’s own cleverness and aptitudes. 

Agares reached into her pocket slowly, then withdrew a rock and held it up.  It was green in colour and had a number of sigils along its length, which glowed faintly and pulsed with magic energy.  It floated about an inch off her palm when she opened her hand. 

Lyra’s eyes lit up.  “What is that?” 

“It’s something I made,” said Agares, preening. 

“Can I look at it?” said Lyra, reaching out with grabbing hands. 

“No!” said Agares, pulling it back to her body.  “It is one of my oldest belongings!  I shall not hand it over to anyone!” 

“Play nice, Agares,” said Noah, faintly in the distance, because the throne room was extremely large. 

“But it’s mine,” Agares wailed, clutching it to her chest. 

Noah stood, ready to intervene, when the doors of the throne room opened.  Mammon appeared, nosing them apart, escorting in four people: Crowley, Aziraphale, Maltha, and an archdemon nobody in the room had ever seen before. 

“Crowley!” said Noah, throwing his hands open and struggling to maintain his lordly dignity as he moved in for an embrace.  “It’s so good to see you safe and sound again.” 

Noah engulfed Crowley in a hug, and Crowley accepted a kiss on the cheek.  “And Aziraphale and Maltha, it’s good to see you return successfully.  And I suppose introductions are in order,” he said turning Vycra.  “I’ve been informed of what happened through letters, but it’s good to meet you in person.  Vycra, I presume?” 

Vycra looked so incredibly fearful it nearly broke Noah’s heart.  Clearly it had taken some convincing to get her to answer being summoned specifically. It was understandable, though, that she would have some misgivings about meeting the ruler of Hell given her background.

Vycra knelt and bowed her head.  Noah awkwardly patted her hair.  “Yes, yes.  You may stand.” 

“So you’re the ruler of Hell?” said Vycra, standing.  “The son of Satan?” 

“A son of Satan,” said Noah genially.  “I have a brother, but he spends most of his time on Earth.” 

Vycra’s eyes swept around the room.  “And this is the throne room?” 

“Yes.” 

“It’s a little…dark.” 

Noah laughed.  “You don’t have to stay down here if you don’t like it.  We want to make sure you have a place to go that’s comfortable for you.”

Vycra looked incredibly suspicious of this.

“Have you given any thought as to where you’d like to be?”

“Who is that?” said Vycra suspiciously, pointing to Agares.  “Why is she trapped?” 

“She was misbehaving,” said Noah.  “She’s in time-out until she’s ready to play nice.” 

“What do you mean?” said Vycra, sounding horrified. 

“She won’t cooperate with me, so we’re trying to win her over.  We’re taking small steps until we can trust her.  She just got out of the Pit, so this is an upgrade.” 

“You took her out of the Pit?” 

“Yes.” 

“You took someone….out of the Pit.” 

“Yes?  Is that okay?” 

“You did it just to give her a break from being in the Pit, though?  You aren’t bringing her up for something terrible—” 

She broke off as she felt Crowley’s hand on her elbow.  He gave her a reassuring nod. 

Vycra squared her shoulders.  “That is quite merciful of you.  Where I come from, Satan shows no mercy at all against dissenters.” 

“As it should be!” Agares shouted.  “It’s better that way.” 

Vycra looked straight through her.  “Why?” 

Agares opened her mouth, then closed it again, gaping like a fish, unable to come up with anything.  “Well, I don’t know!” she exploded.  “That’s just how it is!” 

“I made great sacrifices to come here,” said Vycra.  “Because I was told it’s better.  And so far, it seems to be true.” 

Agares shut her mouth.  She looked at Vycra very hard. 

“Here,” said Maltha, taking Vycra’s other elbow.  “Why don’t we go talk to them?” 

“You and Lyra be sure to set Agares straight when she tries to lie to Vycra,” said Noah, waving them on.  “Aziraphale, Crowley, I wanted to talk to you in private.” 

Maltha and Vycra moved off to the corner.  Aziraphale and Crowley stepped up as well.  “Actually, there was something I came down to ask about, too,” said Crowley.  He held out his left wrist, where the gnarly eye tattoo was still sunk in his flesh.  His only consolation was that it wasn’t moving, and presumably the Satan next door couldn’t see through it.  “I picked up a little…souvenir over there I’d really like to be rid of.  I’ve already talked to Maltha and Raphael healing it, but they said the spellwork was a little too strong and they weren’t confident they could get it off without hurting me.” 

“Hmmm,” said Noah, taking his arm gently. 

“We really would like to be rid of it without cutting off his arm, if possible,” said Aziraphale hopefully. 

“This is very interesting,” said Noah.  “Lyra!” 

Lyra’s head poked up from behind Maltha. 

“Leave your new friends for a minute and come over here, please.” 

Lyra bounded over, looking excited.  She zeroed in on the proffered sigil on Crowley’s arm without even being asked.  “What is that?” 

“A very powerful demon over there put it on me.  I’d really like it off, if you can manage it.  The spellwork is—” 

“—Very fascinating,” said Lyra, lifting her glasses and peering at it from inches away.  Magical energy still circled lazily in the sigil, having no exit, but it was very faint.  “Do I have to destroy it?  I would love to dissect it out.” 

“Er,” said Crowley.  “As long as it’s not on me, I don’t really care.” 

Lyra waved her hand and summoned an instrument that looked like a little trowel of some sort, or maybe a cake-serving spatula.  It had a red gemstone set in the handle with a peculiar sigil carved in the crystal, and Crowley watched as Lyra got the tip of her finger red-hot and used it to burn a series of magic symbols along the handle. 

Then, she traced her still-warm finger on Crowley’s wrist around the mark, which began to glow and slough off, as though being carried away by a gentle current of water.  She slid the little shovel under it and lifted it off. 

Crowley gave a sigh of relief, rubbing his now-bare wrist.  “Somebody, thank you.” 

“Be careful with that,” said Aziraphale.  “Its creator is a nasty piece of work.”  

“Oh-ho-ho,” said Lyra.  “Thank you.  I know what I’m doing this afternoon.”  Using one hand to shield the sigil on the spatula, she trotted back over to her work station. 

“What is that?” Agares gasped. 

“Maybe I’ll let you look at it if you’re nice to me,” Lyra sang. 

Noah smiled at her, then turned back to Aziraphale and Crowley.  “Glad that’s sorted.  Now, there was the matter I wanted to talk with you about, which is the feast I’m holding.”

“We’d be delighted to hear about it,” said Aziraphale. 

“I know the plans for your engagement got wrecked by all this mess, but I see you’re already wearing the rings, so presumably the engagement’s already happened, and, well…. I don’t know, have you thought about what you’ll be doing for the actual wedding yet?” 

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, then held hands.  “I don’t suppose so,” said Crowley.   

“I haven’t given it much thought yet, either,” said Aziraphale.  “The engagement seemed like a lot at the time.” 

“Here’s what I was thinking,” said Noah.  “Would you like me to marry you?  Or Adam?” 

“Dear boy, that would be lovely,” said Aziraphale.  “We would absolutely love your blessing, or your brother’s.” 

“Adam’s been telling me non-stop about how he got this accreditation online, and now he can legally perform weddings,” said Noah, rolling his eyes.  “He insists he’d be the proper one to marry you.” 

“Sure,” said Crowley, squeezing Aziraphale’s hand. 

“Okay, so the other thing—Well, where are you going to have it?  I was thinking that I wanted to have a banquet, and invite everyone—and I mean everyone.  I want to gather all my subjects and our heavenly allies as a show of solidarity.  To make sure everyone knows the new order isn’t going away just because Satan is back. Gathering together should put everyone at ease and make us feel united.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Aziraphale.

“This will be the first time Beelzebub and Dagon have interacted with angels since my reign began, but based on their behavior I believe they’ve been as thoroughly won over as even Mammon and Asmodeus.  Nobody will have to go back into the Pit as far as I can tell.”

“Then it sounds like it’ll be truly groundbreaking…Nothing quite like having the former ruling parties of Heaven and Hell dining peacefully together to show the world where we stand.”

“Yes,” said Noah, absolutely delighted. “Adam loves the idea.  And we were thinking, well….We could have your wedding ceremony there, if you’d like.”

Crowley’s eyes sparkled. 

“It wouldn’t exactly be traditional, but… Well, would you like that?” 

“Yes,” said Crowley instantly.  “That would be perfect.” 

“The symbolic significance of your union taking place at my banquet where—” 

“Dear boy,” said Aziraphale, eyes watering, “we’d be honoured, it’s perfectly lovely.”  

**********************************

Far away from the splendor of Hell’s throne room, in an undisclosed location somewhere in a seedy corner of the London countryside, two beings were squatting in a motel room.

They were squatting because even though they were using a room, they weren’t paying for it, because the owner of the establishment had been convinced to give them the keys for a room with a small miracle, and now he had a difficult time thinking about who was staying in room 102, the thought slipping out of his brain like water off a duck’s back.

Kabata had been the one to take care of that, because despite Kabata’s thousands of years of experience as an Overseer of Divine Affairs on Earth, he had never actually lived here, or spent much time here at all, really, and had nowhere to stay.  Neither Heaven nor Hell seemed like a particularly good place to hang around for the likes of him and Gabriel, so Earth would have to do, and if Earth had to do, so would some random joint until they could find something more permanent.

Which would likely take a while, mostly because neither Kabata nor Gabriel were working very hard on it.  Gabriel had mostly occupied himself with knitting and trepidatiously looking at Kabata out of the corner of his eye.  Kabata had mostly occupied himself with whatever nonsense occupied his attention at any given moment.

Currently, what occupied his attention was a row of paper, electronic devices, and dried herbs laid out in front of him. He tented his hands in front of his mouth, thinking very hard.

In the corner of the room, Gabriel made the latest of his attempts to try a special knot, and failed.  He looked up at Kabata.  “What are you doing?”

Kabata held up a hand.  “Shut up.”

Chastised, Gabriel looked down at his knitting.  Then, he looked back up.  “But what are you doing?”

Kabata narrowed his eyes at the implements.  “I’m trying to figure out what the deal is with smoking.”

Gabriel scratched his head.  “You just light with a lighter.”

“No, I…”  He massaged his temples.  “I remember when humans first discovered tobacco, and since then they haven’t been able to get enough of it.  Yet every time I try it, it’s horrible.  And Aziraphale has complained that Heaven shouldn’t be a non-smoking zone, so I’m trying to figure out why he liked it. And I’ve seen Maltha smoking with some evidence of enjoyment.  Clearly there’s something I’m missing.”

“It’s the nicotine,” said Gabriel.

“I know it’s the nicotine, you bloody idiot,” Kabata snapped. “I’m not a bloody idiot.  I know it’s the nicotine.  The nicotine is what makes it horrible.”

He picked up the first item in the line, which was a simple rolled cigarette. He lit it with a spark from his thumb, took a huge huff, and began coughing wretchedly.

“Blast,” said Kabata.

From outside, in the parking lot of the motel, the telltale hot hoof beats signaled the arrival of a Hellhorse.  Kabata hoped that maybe if he ignored it, the rider wouldn’t come bother him, a tad optimistically.  

This was one instance where ignoring the issue did not, in fact, make it go away.  Two pairs of footsteps approached the door to room 102.

Kabata put down the cigarette into the ashtray and picked up the next item, a fine cigar, and lit it with his pointer finger.  

There was no knock.  The door creaked open.  Satan stood there, with Hastur hiding slightly behind him, like an imp.

Gabriel shrank back a little.  Kabata looked at Satan tiredly and exhaled a billowing cloud of cigar smoke.

“So,” said Satan.  “My most loyal supporter, Hastur, tells me that you attacked him.  Is that true?”

Kabata put the cigar back in his mouth and talked around it.  “It is.”

“And may I ask why, exactly, you attacked my one remaining truly loyal supporter?”

Hastur sneered at Kabata like a tattletale.

“Do you smoke?” said Kabata.  “Surely Satan smokes.”

“What?” said Satan stormily.

The end of the cigar glowed as Kabata sucked from it.  “What’s the big deal with smoking?”

“Answers the question,” said Satan.

Kabata grimaced at the cigar and stubbed it out in the ashtray next to the cigarette.  “I attacked him,” he said, looking Satan directly in the eye, “because he’s annoying little prick that should be knocked down a peg every once in a while.”

“He’s a duke of Hell and should be treated with the respect becoming such—”

“He’s an annoying little prick.”

Satan set his jaw.  Hastur said, “I wouldn’t be so quick to talk big if I were you.  We could definitely kick your arse.”  He, of course, meant that Satan could kick Kabata’s arse, which was probably true, and he happened to be on the same team as Satan despite not really being capable of contributing much to the aforementioned arse-kicking.

Satan stepped into the room.  Hastur followed, closing the door behind him.  Satan circled the chair Kabata was seated in, removing his leather gloves and riding gear and putting them on the end table.  Hastur perched menacingly near Gabriel, who looked at him with hatred.

Satan reached down and picked up the cigar Kabata had discarded, reigniting it and taking a drag.  “So tell me, what the hell are you doing here in the middle of nowhere with Gabriel, of all people?”

Kabata shrugged.  “We’re both fucking losers that nobody likes, and we’ve got nobody better than each other to stick with.  We did work together for six-thousand years.”

“Yes, but he is an angel, and you are a demon.”

Kabata rolled his eyes.

“What the hell happened to you?” said Hastur to Gabriel.  “Your aura’s all funny.”

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

“He also got taken down a peg,” said Kabata.  He reached out and picked up the next tobacco item in his lineup, which was an e-cigarette.  It took him a moment to figure out how to insert the cartridge.  “So what exactly do you want?  I don’t think you care enough about Hastur to come crying to me about hurting his feelings.”

Hastur scowled.  Satan puffed the cigar appreciatively and did not deny the accusation.  “Well, you see Kabata, I find myself in the strange position of being without allies.  My kingdom has been usurped out from under me while I was gone.  The world’s changed quite a bit—you, for example…Interesting to see you as a demon.  This isn’t how I pictured you.”

Kabata took a puff of the vape and looked at him.

“So why don’t we kill Gabriel, and you, me, and Hastur can go about rebuilding the Kingdom of Darkness.  You haven’t been a demon for very long.  This could be your chance to get in on the ground floor.  Think of the possibilities!  You could be my new right hand man.  You could take Ba’al Berith’s place.”

“I had Ba’al Berith killed when I was an angel,” said Kabata.  “What makes you think I’d want that?”

Satan gestured around him.  “You’d rather sit around in a shitty motel room?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“What?!  Why?”

“Sloth suits me, I’ve found.  I’ve been ambitious for too long.”

Satan drew his sword, which was a fearsome, jagged thing.  “Then give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here and now, if you’re completely useless to me.”

Kabata groaned.  “Come on, man, I never did anything to you.”

“What is with everyone?” Satan yelled.  “Nobody gives a fuck about anything anymore!  Why does nobody want to help me?  Why isn’t everyone rushing to my side to be my right hand man anymore?”

Kabata fumbled and picked up an item in the line of smoking implements, which happened to be a marijuana blunt, because he had gotten a bit mixed up and hadn’t realised humans sometimes smoke things other than tobacco.  He lit it, took a drag, and held out his hand. “Gabriel, where’s the thing?”

Gabriel looked at him, baffled.  “The what?”

Kabata made a grabbing motion.  “The thing!  The fucking—” He took another quick drag on the blunt, because he found it made him feel quite a curious way, then got up and started tossing the cushions and blankets everywhere.  “The thing, where did I fucking put—oh, here it is.”

He turned out to have been sitting on it.  He pulled out the God-Killing Knife, leveling it at Satan in one hand and smoking the blunt in the other.

“Is that…?” Satan said, amazed.

“Yeah,” said Kabata.

“You have the God-Killing Knife?”

“For the last fucking time!” Kabata shouted.  “It’s not a knife!  It’s a short-sword!”

“You must be joking,” said Hastur.  “That little thing?”

“Listen!” Kabata fumed.  “Just because I was a fucking idiot that knew more about spellwork than how to use a forge in four-thousand BC—stop fucking laughing at me, Gabriel, I can see you laughing at me—doesn’t mean it’s not a short-sword, just because it came out shorter than I meant it to doesn’t mean it’s not a short-sword.  I designed it to be a short-sword, it’s bloody well a short-sword and not a knife!”

“You made that?”

“Yeah.”

“I tasked Agares with retrieving that artifact for me thousands of years ago! It’s been lost to history!”

“Turns out my ex-girlfriend squirreled it away.”

Satan furrowed his brow.  “And you’re…giving it to me to bargain for your life?”

Kabata coughed and sputtered, dropping the blunt.  “What?  No! I’m going to stab you with it!”

Satan slowly lowered his sword, looking at Kabata pensively.  “You made that?  In the beginning?”

“Yes.”

“But why?  You were loyal to Him.”

Kabata slowly lowered his weapon, then plopped onto the sofa, tapping it against his knee.  “I don’t know.  I had thought about joining the rebellion for a while.  I’m glad I didn’t.  I don’t hate being a demon, though.  I just wouldn’t want to be one under your command.”

Satan’s face spasmed with rage.  “If you’re not going to be a proper demon—You could at least kill Gabriel!”

“Hey man, let me ask you a question,” said Kabata, whose eyes had started to take on a glazed, far away expression.

“What?”

“What happened to the way you talk?”

“What?” Satan said stormily.

“You know, the way all the foundation angels talk.  You talked like that when you were Lucifer, but now you just talk normally.”

Satan sneered at him.

YOU KNOW, LIKE THIS, Kabata said.

“Shut the fuck up,” said Satan.  “You’re ridiculous.  You’re an insult of an archdemon.  You’re pathetic.  I’ll kill you right here and now.

“Go away, man,” said Kabata.  “It’s not worth it.  We both know it’s not worth it.”

Fist clenched tight, Satan slammed his sword back in its sheath.  He fumed under his breath for a moment, then started walking towards the door.

“Sire?” said Hastur.

“Come on,” said Satan grumpily.

Hastur unhappily removed himself.

Satan paused at the door, then turned back.  “By any chance did you get this?”  He lifted a piece of paper between his two fingers from his breast pocket. “This astoundingly arrogant invitation my spawn has sent out?”

“To Noah’s banquet?” said Kabata.

“Yes.”

“He invited you?”

“Yes.  He’s that brazen.”

Kabata scratched his chin.  “He sure is.”

“Are you going?”

Kabata shrugged halfheartedly.  “I guess so.  He was very clear he wanted both me and Gabriel to come.”

Satan tucked the invitation back into his pocket, looking stormy.  “Then I guess I’ll see you there.  Let me know if you have a change of heart between now and then.”

Kabata watched him go.  Neither Satan nor Hastur had the courtesy to shut the door behind them.  Kabata huffed in an annoyed way, slamming it shut, then coming back over and puffing on the blunt.  He had started to feel very funny.

But, like a lot of the changes in the world recently, it was different.  Unexpected, but not necessarily bad.

[wilhelmjfink]

“was” pt. 9

my fucking master list post isn’t working and idk wtf it’s issue is but here’s part 9 of i believe 11 or 12 enjoy~

also remember that i am far too lazy to edit these old stories that i am too lazy to post frequently i am sorry

Both Y/N’s and Negan’s mouths fell open in shock — there was a fraction of a second, she noticed, that Negan let his regular arrogance and confidence waver, just long enough for her to notice before the familiar sneer returned to his face.

Apparently, he was just as shocked to see him as she was.

“Holy shit, everybody! It’s fuckin’ Daryl!” Negan was beaming, though it was obvious through his eyes how furious he was, how stupid he must’ve felt being played a fool throughout Daryl’s absence at the Sanctuary, quickly realizing he was indeed losing control of the little empire he’d built up around him. He strutted toward Daryl who didn’t flinch, even when Negan shifted Lucille exaggeratedly from one shoulder to the other or when he bent down and just hovered inches away from his face. “Look at you,” he leered, eyeing Daryl up and down, unable to prevent his smirk as it quickly melted into a scowl as he did so. She knew he was referring again to Daryl’s fearlessness as it was always something Negan admired in him — it was why he’d taken her away from him in the first place.

And she knew that Daryl was scared… but couldn’t help the way her heart flipped inside her chest with joy and relief at the sight of him standing up for her. All she wanted to do was run to him and have him assure her that everything would be just fine.

Daryl was glaring back up at him pointedly, not blinking his eyes that hid behind his shaggy locks of brown, messy hair. He was dirty, he was exhausted, he was beaten and cut up and bruised; but he was the most beautiful thing that Y/N had ever seen.

“You and I have a lot of catching up to do,” Negan growled just low enough for Daryl to hear. He stood strong, though; even as the sole fact that Y/N was sitting in the corner of the room, alive and bright nonetheless terrified, had his brain screaming at him to go to her. Fuck, she had actually woken up. His fucking girl had come back to him. She had come back to him, and he was supposed to be basking in the relief that had shaken his body to the core. He could’ve wept with joy at the sight of her, living and breathing. But he refused to let Negan sense it.

Negan had a way of punishing people who wronged him by hurting what they loved instead of hurting the one who really deserved it.

“Stay away from 'er,” Daryl snarled, inching forward just closely enough to him to reinforce his words.

Negan’s white-knuckled grip twisted Lucille around irately, his head tilted in interest, features unwavering as he glowered down at Daryl. Footsteps approached behind them and slowed to a halt, Rick, Carol, Jesus and Michonne appearing behind them, with several other Hilltop residents forming an audience in the background being shoved aside by Saviors as they made their way toward the altercation.

Rick, of course, was the first to step forward, hands up in calming surrender, trying to diffuse the situation before it inevitably got out of control. “Hey… alright, let’s talk…”

Negan wasn’t hearing any of it and flung Lucille over from where she rested on his shoulder to pointed forward inches from Rick’s face threateningly without breaking eye contact with Daryl. “Hold it, Prick,” he warned. “I don’t want to have to hurt you, too, but I can’t help but feel like Daryl here is fucking asking for it.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ askin’,” Daryl snarled. At that, Negan’s smile returned as Daryl closed the last of the tension between them threateningly as one final forewarning before he begun to feel himself teetering over the edge of self-control. His voice dropped dangerously low. “I’m telling’ ya. One more time. Leave her alone."

“Daryl, Daryl, Daryl…” Negan taunted him, separating them slightly as he stood taller over top of him in an obvious effort to intimidate him. It almost had Y/N smiling because she knew that it meant Negan was beginning to get apprehensive.  “I don’t think you understand. I care about Y/N. A whole lot, actually."

Stepping back forward to close the space Negan’d just created, Daryl strode forward aggressively, growling before cutting him right off. “Ya better fuckin’ choose your next words real carefully.”

“I want her to work for me.”

Daryl stiffened furiously, the flames in his eyes so harsh Negan could almost feel the heat radiating from them, but Y/N interrupted first, pushing herself upright from her wheelchair that she’d remained in for so long. “I would never work for you!"

“Alright, alright, calm yourself down,” Negan immediately disregarded her, holding his hand behind him to belittle her but calm her down nonetheless. “I’m just a little worried about how she’s healing is all, you know? I mean, can you blame me?” He was being dramatic as usual, not fooling anybody — still, none of the bystanders moved a muscle or made a sound, all too afraid to draw attention to themselves. Negan took notice and looked at all of the wide eyes on the faces that stared at him. “What? Oh — I’m sorry, let me clarify. I don’t mean work work,” he chided, relaxing back on his heels slightly as his sneer returned in full form. “I meant work, like, ya know…” He waggled his eyebrows, gleaming past Daryl as if he was clarifying to the others watching. “Freaky deaky."

And in the blink of an eye, Daryl fucking snapped.

He pounced like a tiger on Negan who, despite having a physique that towered over him, was taken by surprise at the archer’s audacity and was tackled to the ground. But he was just as strong as Daryl, and it wasn’t long before it had turned into a full on brawl between the two men.

Y/N shouted at them, pleaded for them to stop, begged Negan not to hurt Daryl as they fought like cats and dogs, snarls and growls and all, while his friends helplessly watched on.

Rick was fighting some sort of internal conflict on whether or not to interfere: every time he considered stepping in, Daryl seemed to have it under control. And when he didn’t, he wasn’t so sure Negan wouldn’t just kill him for doing so.

When they managed back to their feet, Negan hoisting Daryl up, they spun around once again in a whirlwind of punches and curses, grunting as they threw themselves at each other, Daryl slamming Negan up against the wall forcefully and getting a few solid blows in before Negan gathered his bearings and twisted them back around.

Y/N was horrified, mouth agape, mind reeling for a plan or an answer or anything to help her figure out what the fuck to do at that moment. God, she just wanted Daryl to be okay. That was all she fucking wanted. And she didn’t think it was too much to ask.

Negan charged him into the table, tumbling on top of him and landing several punches before Daryl brought his legs up and, fueled by fury and adrenaline, managed to kick him off though Negan had enough of a hold on him to drag him along as he stumbled backwards and through the bay window.

Daryl heard nothing but rain and shattering glass all around him and underneath it somewhere was Y/N screaming his name, but he could’t dwell on it for long because reality settled back in when Negan rolled over with a pained groan beside him but still managed to push himself up and dove back at Daryl to finish the fight.

It was a blur of colors and pain and Daryl was already weakened from the past week of the emotional torture he endured and lack of sleep and sustenance and normality. Negan was ruthless, his fighting capabilities matching his usual bad-boy demeanor, and Daryl was taking the brunt of his anger and knew that it was long overdue for them both.

But he had crossed the fucking line.

Daryl wasn’t even sure who he was in those moments: he couldn’t remember a time where he’d been so unfathomably angry, so blinded with rage that all he wanted to do was kill the man opposite of him. He wanted to watch Negan’s eyes as the life drained from him, as the realization of it all came crashing down on him and he got to linger in the last moments of his life terrified and bitter and miserable. His girl was in his peripheral, screaming as she was held upright by Michonne. He didn’t need any more fuel for the fire raging inside of him, but the sight of her could have driven him right to the gates of the Sanctuary to kill every single Savior with his bare hands if that was what she wants him to do.

With a newly found rage Daryl rose to the top once again as they rolled around on the damp ground, the collar of Negan’s jacket bunched in his left hand as he clocked him again with his right, the knuckles that collided with bones already scorching even through the knowledge that there was still no end in sight.

At least, not until the familiar chorus of cocking guns rang out, and once again he could hear Y/N call out for him, and it was clear as day.

Distracted by it all for just a split second Negan got one final hit in, knocking Daryl square across the jaw and sending him sprawled onto his back on the ground, laying still to catch his breath and basking in the relief the cool rain brought to the fire that was still surging through every nerve in his body as it poured down on to him.

In a second, Y/N was at his side, hovering over him and shielding him from the rain as she was quickly drenched in her own tears of terror and devastation. He groaned softly as she whispered comfortingly to him, shushing him, telling him to lay still and beg him to just do what Negan said.

God, he had never been so fucking angry in his life.

He reached for her pathetically, slowly losing his grip on reality as the headache throbbed with each beat of his heart and had him swimming around in the dark spots that plagued his vision. Searching for her, listening to her gentle whispers, the feeling of her soft hands caressing the sides of his face, that was all that kept him hanging on by that narrow thread. The fact that this was all he’d fucking wanted anymore, all that he’d asked for the last excruciatingly long week, was enough to keep him going on forever if it meant that she would be there by his side.

“Oh, God, Daryl,” she sniffled, leaning forward and pressing several delicate kisses to his forehead and swollen eyes and bruised jaw. “Why? Why did you do this?"

None of the dozens of Saviors that surrounded the scene fired at Y/N while she’d pathetically hobbled to Daryl, while Negan’s men helped him straighten back up on the other side. But when Rick or Carol or Jesus tried to move over to their injured friend, there was quickly several barrels aiming at them and halting them in their tracks.

And Negan was in pretty bad condition, too — his nose was spouting blood, drenching the front of him down to his white t-shirt that was now stained a deep red. A nasty cut above his eye brow had split open and he held it stiffly, obviously trying to stifle the pain, swearing to himself before he pushed himself completely upright.

“Line ‘em up,” he growled the simple direction to his men who immediately obeyed. One by one they forced the citizens of Hilltop to their knees and Y/N instantly went off, babbling hysterically to Negan as he observed the assembly before him.

“No, please, Negan! Please! I’ll do anything!” The look on Rick’s face as he was pushed down had her spiraling out of control, all too familiar, flashbacks of the last time they’d had to do this debilitating and shaking her to the core.  "Please don’t hurt them! Please don’t hurt him!”

“It’s too late for sorry’s now, doll,” he growled in response, wiping some blood on the leather sleeve of his jacket. He was furious, and Y/N was quickly plunging into a full-blown panic attack, her hands latched on to the lapels of Daryl’s vest as she was yanked away by a burly Savior and forced to her knees.

Her hand clutched her stomach painfully where her wounds were. Daryl noticed and whether her cries were from pain or fear he had to try and help her and had to make it okay — but when he reached out to her he fell forward himself, weak and exhausted and beaten, using one hand braced down in the mud in an attempt to keep himself relatively upright while he tried still to catch his breath. Y/N sobbed helplessly at the sight.

It was pouring. Negan was mad. Y/N trembled in her spot, still quietly begging Negan to stop while he eyed the crew before them as they kneel motionless and silent.

“Wow, deja vu, am I right?”

He scowled every more so when nobody laughed at his poor attempt at his sick, twisted humor.

“I have tried so fucking hard to work with you people. I have given you so many chances, and you have beautifully blown every single fucking one of them like they were gigantic, thick fucking cocksuckers!” He seethed, his voice raising with every word despite being slightly skewed from the swelling in his face. “And now… oh, you fucking mother fuckers, now you are going to fucking pay.”

The smile returned and Y/N doubled over in some mixture of pain and hysteria, gasping as she tried to breathe. Again, Daryl forced himself to reach to her, yearning to feel her in his hands by offering her solace the only way he could think of, only to be torn away the second his bloody fingers brushed against her hair.

She screamed as it happened, instinctively reaching out for him as the Saviors yanked him away and forced him back to his feet, having to drag him like a rag doll since he was still recovering from the fight.

Lucille was shoved harshly into his chest and he grunted. “Congratulations, Daryl. You’re the lucky winner of the night.” There was no longer any hint of humor in Negan’s words as he motioned dramatically to the crew of Daryl’s family before him. "Pick your mother fucking prize.”

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever@sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @cococruzzmayanns@qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic@crazyaboutnorman @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93@96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes  @ima-mther-fckn-starboy@thatsoragan @lonewolf471

[oldladydatin]

Oh you meant football, football!

Over a year ago now I received a message from a man that lead to a very epic purchase and one surprising night! This message started out much like any message I receive, it was flattering you’re beautiful, you’re intelligent, you’re sexy, I want to meet up with you. So began my relationship with Daddy Mc Hottie Pants, yes I really call him that and he knows. We chatted sort of alot for about a week. He told me he was quite large and he had trouble finding partners because of it, I ask how large and he sends me a picture. I just looked at it like pfft whatever, you couldn’t tell, there was no point of reference. I said yea it’s so big, he tells me it’s over 11 inches. I responded I don’t think I can handle that, that’s so big, he says I’ll take it slowly baby girl. But he stops talking to me for long periods of time, then randomly will start texting me again. During this time I’m in a very you matter, now you don’t relationship, with my ex Eric, so I’m really mistrusting of the sporadic attention, it’s too similar to me and I felt like I couldn’t take being hurt by someone else.

One night when Eric and I are barely speaking, I was horny and Daddy Mc hottie pants texts and I say hey you should come over I’m home alone. He replies “really?” He tells me he has friends over but he’ll try to get rid of them. We’ve been talking off and on for 6 months at this point and I hadn’t ever really made an attempt to meet him for coffee, dinner, sex or anything else because of the relationship with my ex Eric and because of him being sketchy. He was checking up on me more at this point because he knew I was hurting and I was going out alone drinking every Friday, he didn’t really like it and had become a bit protective of me. So I waited over an hour for him and nothing. I was invited to the bar to watch a techno band by someone I had hung out with before, so I got dressed up and decided to go out. I drove downtown to the club and there were a bunch of younger kids coming in and out of the club dressed like rainbow brite and I just decided this wasn’t my scene. I was horny and decided instead to drive to this huge adult store we have here and I found this massive dildo. This wasn’t necessarily a spontaneous purchase though, ever since this guy told me how large he was I was curious if I could even have sex with someone that large and I knew this store carried large dildos. Unlike my friends I was unable to have children naturally so no baby had ever passed through my vagina. Eric has been a bit obsessed with fisting and that hadn’t ever happened with me, although one of the other girls he had been with had posted a video of him trying to fist her, and it hadn’t happened with her either so I didn’t feel bad. So I just wondered could sex with Daddy Mc hottie pants even happen? Plus I was hurt and pissed off and my best friend said nothing bothers men more than the thought of a giant black dick, this was the next best thing, it didn’t bother him but? So I purchased this large black dildo, the “superstud”, it was 11 inches long, 8.5 inches from fake balls to tip and the lady at the store measured the girth at 8.5 inches, I also purchased lube because good lord. I take my giant black dick home and I am on a mission. I with lots of lube and playing with my vibrator and some wine I am able to do this and it hurt, oh dear god did it hurt. I had to take breaks. But it was also a really strange sensation, I hadn’t been with anyone that big around and it actually felt good, better than the length. After I’m done with this strange task I charged my self with accomplishing, Daddy Mc hottie pants texts, it’s 3 am, to say he got rid of his friends. By this time I definitely did not want more dick, I wanted a cigarette and stiff drink and I was a bit sore. So I decline, I say dude it’s 3 am? He says I know I’m sorry. This does not help me to be less suspicious of him.

Daddy Mc hottie pants and I continued. We didn’t talk, we did talk, we didn’t talk, we did talk, for a whole 5 more months. One day he messages me online and says I would still like to meet you. I kinda gave him shit about how I’m not the problem? Honestly at this point I liked him as a person, he’s a good guy, works with handicap people, coaches kids, is witty, and I genuinely would like to get to know him. Randomly I get a text from him that he’s feeling down, he’s going through some custody stuff and a break up and could use a hug, I said well I’d love to hug you. He asks what I’m doing and I replied I’m hanging with my kids and he asks to come over. I said well my kids are home, I never introduce my kids to men, but he says he’s fine with that and I think he’s really feeling down. So I said okay well come hang out with us. I tell my kids I’m having a friend over, I think they’d like him and he’s just feeling down so he didn’t want to be alone. He comes over and he was great with my kids, I made us dinner and I gave him his hug.  He started showing up all these crazy wounds. Like he broke his arm and they put pins in it but it didn’t heal right and the only option was to re-break it and he opted against this. I ask how on earth did this happen to you and he casually says oh playing football. I said well my baby isn’t playing football then, but I think that’s odd? He’s telling us stories about epic pranks he’s done and my daughter was all into this and we watched movies until the kids passed out. Then we went downstairs to my room and watched a movie and cuddled up.

Things happen, he’s an incredibly sex black man and we’ve been teasing each other forever! So he pulls out his dick and it’s larger than what he said, it’s huge, and without control I blurted out “holy shit”  and he just laughs, he downplayed the size of his dick which almost never happens. He has to be over 12”? Immediately I got nervous and panic because there’s no way that’s going in me! There’s just no way! The dildos insertable length is 8.5” and I can barely do that? But he puts his hands over my mouth presumably incase I scream and was slow and gentle and by some miracle this works out. It was definitely a cross between pleasurable and painful and I don’t know if anyone could possibly get used to this experience but as long as he was slow it felt good, I don’t know if he puts it all in or not. After sex we lay there cuddling and he stays the night. I haven’t shared my bed much at all in the past year and a half, even before my marriage ended, I slept alone. Every time he moved his joints cracked. He snored. He wanted to cuddle and hold me and I’m not a big cuddler when I’m trying to sleep. So essentially I stayed awake and stared at this incredibly sexy man in my bed all night long. We did have sex again and that time it hurt a bit more, he tried a different position that I think wasn’t good. In the morning before the kids got up and came downstairs he got up and got dressed. He was looking through his facebook reading me jokes, I asked what his facebook name was and he told me and I added him. I questioned him if he had joint issues and he said yea from playing football. He made some weird comment about picking up his last 3 paychecks and I joked what are you independently wealthy, he said I do okay. Then he gives me a hug and kiss and says he’s gotta go but wants to see me again, I agree we should. He leaves and I lay in bed and really look at his facebook. So he played for several NFL teams, he played defense on the Minnesota Vikings, and he currently worked with the NFL, I thought oh shit he meant football, football! Not like highschool football and this made so much more sense. But it made me giggle cause as Izzo said “my new man’s on the Minnesota vikings, truth hurts, needed something more exciting.”

But for real that was just too much dick!

[roseonhissleeve]

Have A Little Faith: Chapter Seven

"You don't love someone because they're perfect, you love them in spite of the fact that they're not." 

- Jodi Picoult

Harry didn’t let go of my hand a single time on the way back to my hotel.

I was drowsy with sleep, and he gave my palm a little squeeze every once in a while as if to make sure that I was still with him. The walk was quiet, and the streets were even less busy than they were initially. There was a perfect full moon above us that we stopped to look up at, and I showed him the Big Dipper, which was really the only constellation that I knew but he seemed immensely interested. He made me feel heard. It was perfect.

Within about half an hour we were back at my hotel, and there was a twinge of disappointment in my belly upon the realization that the night was about to come to an end. He walked me to the front door of my building and stopped there, hesitant to cross that boundary.

“Harry…”

“Yes, love?”

I paused to formulate what I wanted to say. It had been so long since I’d done this, and I didn’t know if it was the drowsiness or the build-up of all I’d felt throughout the evening, but I was feeling a little bit bolder than usual.

“I…Thank you,” I said softly, looking directly into his brilliant green eyes as I spoke. “This…I wasn’t expecting this at all. I wasn’t…well, I wasn’t sure that it would be a good idea. But you proved that wrong.”

My words caused a tender smile to appear on his features for what seemed like the thousandth time this evening, and something told me that he was about to kiss me. That’s what people do on first dates, right? They kiss. Or, they’re supposed to?

My heart was racing—I was working myself up by calculating the probability that he would kiss me, and even more importantly, I was considering whether or not I wanted him to.

He lifted his free hand and set it against my cheek, and the touch alone was enough to send a delicious chill down my back. But when his face began slowing inching closer I felt a rise of panic in my chest—I wasn’t ready, I knew I wasn’t ready but I didn’t know how to communicate that to him.

My eyes widened slightly and my body tensed, and I felt him pause as a result. I was worried that he would be offended or angry, but to my relief he simply pressed his lips against the skin of my cheek instead of my lips. It lasted a few seconds before he pulled away again, his voice a whisper.

“Goodnight, Ro,” he whispered, his breath colliding against the shell of my ear.

“Goodnight, Harry,” I replied, and with a final squeeze of my hand he turned around and walked back in the direction of his own hotel.

I watched him walk down the cobble-stone road with long, slow strides, his hands tucked into his pockets. I wondered if they were still tingling like mine was. He looked stunning underneath the moonlight and the streetlamps, as if he were something out of a movie scene. Just as he was about to turn the corner he looked back at me and smiled, and I smiled in response. He lifted his hand in a wave, and I did as well, heart sinking a little bit when he finally turned the corner.

I opened the front door and made my way up the stairs, the dingy hotel welcoming me back from what was possibly the best night that I’d experienced in a very long time. As soon as I was inside the confines of my room I slipped my shoes off and walked into the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

Holy. Fuck.

My cheeks were still red and flushed from when he’d kissed my face a few minutes ago. My eyes were big and bright—they were the most alive they’d been in a long while. I could still feel the tingles in my hand from when he’d held it even though the physical contact had been lost now, and I was found myself wondering if it’d ever go away.

And even though I was so immensely happy, a voice crept into my mind.

This was dangerous.

If I ended this now, it would be easier. I wouldn’t get invested and neither would he.

Every logical piece of me was telling me no.

So why is it that I was feeling so…happy?

I stripped myself of my clothing and into my pair of cotton pajamas, finally crawling into bed. Even though I was half-asleep a mere ten minutes ago, I was wide awake now. I found myself wondering what Harry was doing; whether or not he’d arrived back to his room yet, if he was thinking of me, what he was seeing.

I went to bed with my rose on my bedside table, and I felt the happiest I’d been in a long time. But there was also a slight unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I knew then and there that Harry Styles could very possibly be the death of me.

***

The next morning, I woke up at ten.

It had been ages since I’d slept in. Ages.

A smile appeared on my face when I suddenly remembered everything that had happened last night, and for a split second I had to remind myself that it wasn’t a dream. It all was rushing through my mind again, and I wished deeply that I could have relived it all over again. I’d actually gone out with Harry, and we’d spent hours talking. He held my hand, and once he started he didn’t stop. It was peaceful, and romantic, and tender.

It was perfect.

And terrifying.

I got out of bed and got in the shower, singing for the first time in a long time.

When I finished I wrapped a towel wrapped around my frame, and on my way out of the small bathroom I saw something—a note that had been slipped underneath the door of my room.

I walked over and picked up the slip of paper, turning it over to read it.

Ro,

Thanks for an amazing evening last night. I loved every moment. I know we just saw each other, but I would love to see you again. Meet me for lunch?

- H

At the very bottom of the note he’d written an address. He also jotted down a time—12:00 PM.

My mind was spinning with possibilities and anxiety about how quickly this was moving along. Sure, Harry and I hadn’t done much last night since hold hands, but there was emotional attachment that was quickly developing, and not just at his end. But I couldn’t do it. I had to think logically. I had to use my head this time.

Where could this lead?

Maybe we’d get along. Maybe we’d even spend more time together and learn more about each other. Maybe, just maybe, we’d even get close to the “L” word. But what then?

He was a famous musician. Sure, I forgot that most of the time, but the rest of the world didn’t. He travelled and had a career to uphold that didn’t have room for me in it.

I’ve been single for not even a year, yet. I can’t do another relationship, I can’t commit to someone like that and I can’t give someone that power again. Not now, maybe not ever. It just isn’t logical.

Last night was beautiful, and one day it’ll be an amazing memory and I’ll look back on it and smile. But it has to end now.

The rest of the morning I spent some down time in my room. I ordered breakfast and looked through my sketches, and once that had been done I read some of book. I thought I was making the right choice by ending it there.

So why did I feel so…sad?

I used to think that every choice you make is a loss. That by picking one outcome, you’re immediately withdrawing yourself from the opposite—that there really was absolutely no way to make a right choice, because life itself guarantees that you can never see the counterpart.

But maybe that’s all that life really is. Maybe it’s just about making the choices that you think you can live with in the end. Maybe it’s about making the choices that you think are best in the moment, and learning to adjust if it turns out to be wrong.

And God knows I’ve had to do a lot of adjusting.

I wouldn’t be able to live with the regret of letting Harry go. Not now.

I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, along with the note that had been left under my door that morning. I was out the door and quickly out onto the street, eyes glued to the address as I referred to the map in my other hand.

I checked the time. 11:51 AM.

*

The sweat was dripping down my back as I began to lose my breath. I’d been alternating between speed-walking and jogging for about ten minutes now, and I most definitely was not a regular runner. My bag was flying all over the place and I had come close to running into someone on the street more than once. People glanced at me from every direction as I flew by, but I was too mentally preoccupied to care.

I finally saw the café and ran towards the entrance. It was small and quaint—several floral arrangements had been hung around the door and the outdoor patio, and there was a handmade sign in front of the door that had all of the specials for the day listed. It smelled of cinnamon and pastries and coffee, and it was a place that I could see myself coming back to sketch. It was a place I could see myself falling in love with.

I scanned the perimeter of the room and my heart dropped when I couldn’t see Harry—it wasn’t until then that I realized that I was still in a ratty pair of jean shorts and a plain white tank top, my hair in a messy bun from my post-shower routine. I had left in such a rush that maybe I had overdone this entire thing in my head.

My heart dropped and I walked back out onto the street, still catching my breath and feeling completely and utterly embarrassed. Life isn’t a romantic comedy, Rosie. What did you think would really happen?

Sure enough, I caught the flash of a bright red long sleeve shirt that had been pushed up to his elbows, and a flash of an ink mermaid. My heart soared, and I propelled myself towards him, taking quick steps so I could catch up.

“Harry!” I choked out in an exhausted voice, taking the final steps to close the distance between us and reaching to touch his arm.

He jumped back a little bit and turned around, causing me to release his arm. His eyes widened and he almost seemed a bit panicky, but as soon as he realized that it was me his features visibly softened.

“Hi,” He almost sighed, his brows furrowed. I could see the apprehension on his face, and it made my stomach twist nervously. “I didn’t think you were gonna show.”

“I didn’t think I was either,” I admitted guiltily. I saw what looked like a flash of pain show across his features. It was something I’d never seen on him and it made something clench in my heart, in the worst way. “Can we…sit down? And talk?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, and he nodded his head before offering me a small smile. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

Ten minutes later, we had our seats in the café and had ordered. I was fidgeting with my fingers nervously. I didn’t really know what I was going to say, I didn’t know what I expected, and I didn’t know where his mindset was.

“I—”

“So—”

We paused after interrupting one another, and a moment of silence passed before he spoke.

“You first.”

I swallowed thickly, trying to formulate words in my mind. My fingers were trembling anxiously, and Harry must have noticed because he placed one of his hands over both of mine, causing me to still but also sending a wave of relief through my body.

“I…” I attempted to speak, trying to get any words out. I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes, hoping my ability to speak wouldn’t fail me. “I don’t know what…fuck. I don’t know how to do this.”

I exhaled a small sigh of exasperation and expected Harry to say something or to get impatient, but he did nothing other than wait patiently and give my hands a small squeeze. Something inside of me continued.

“I mean, I don’t know what this is. This is crazy. Did you know that? I’m in this country I’ve never been to, spending time with this guy that I’ve never met before, and for some reason I can’t get him out of my mind now. And I’m constantly torn between everything yelling at me telling me that it’s a bad idea, that he’ll hurt me, that I’ll hurt him, and that there is no positive outcome to this situation at all. And then there’s the part of me that—fuck, that can’t FOCUS when you LOOK at me like that, Harry,” I exhaled in a frustrated tone, but he just chuckled.

“You’re a high-strung little thing, aren’t you?” He asked, clearly teasing. I simply responded with a little huff, and I delivered a swift yet gentle kick to his shin under the table.

He laughed again, and he began running his thumb across the skin of my wrist.

“I don’t know that this is, either,” he reasoned, and hearing him say it lifted a weight off of my shoulders. “I know this isn’t the traditional way two people meet…but nothing in my life is very traditional. The way I see it, this has two outcomes. Either we’re together or we’re not—but that’s tomorrow’s problem. Today, I just wanna spend some time with you. Would that be okay with you?”

He lifted my hand in order to press a series of light kisses to each of my knuckles, which wasn’t really fair because it make my head spin and really didn’t let me think properly at all. His words resonated in my mind.

Today was doable. There was no harm in being with him for today.

We finished our lunch and walked around Rome together afterwards, hand in hand.

He made me laugh—so hard that I cried sometimes, and it’d been so long since I did that that I’d forgotten it was even possible.

Today was definitely doable. Today was perfect.

if you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving me a dollar or two! x https://ko-fi.com/C0C0VKJI

if you would like to consider supporting my work long-term, please check out my patreon! x https://www.patreon.com/roseonhissleeve