#and i’m a fan of working with kids! i’m a terrible judge of age though which kind of causes problems sometimes

[spark1edog]

i really would like to get this job at build a bear i think that would be really fun for me

[peeterparkr]

between lightning and thunder|harry styles.

summary: he’s your best friend’s boyfriend, you have feelings for him, you know the drill.

“In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were.” 

word count: 7k

pairing: Harry Styles x reader

warnings: alcohol mention, a bit sad, Little Prince, some songs. 

PART TWO: thunderstorms and shooting stars PART THREE: stars and fate

So, here’s my first official Harry Styles one shot (kind of two-part one shot), thanks to @peachybloomss and @laurieteddy for helping me out with beta reading. Yes, there will be part two if you guys want it. I’ll see if you like it, please send feedback, reblog, be kind. 

The rain pattered against the asphalt, now bright and dense, reflecting the tinkling lantern that barely gave an excuse of light to the street. There you were, in that corner, shading the sidewalk with those sneakers that used to be white. You were getting wet, that was an understatement, you  knew you would have a cold the very next day. You clutched your dark blue umbrella as you waited for a miracle.

You saw the sky light up and counted the seconds.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

The lightning struck with such a crash it made you shiver.

It seemed like it was the worst day of your life. It probably wasn't, but that's how it felt. It is difficult to understand why a relationship ends. It’s even more difficult to understand when you’re an outsider. You were not one, though, not really. You wished you were. 

Your best friend’s boyfriend, now ex. Probably ex. 

Harry. 

You saw him, right outside of the building where you were supposed to be in, leaning to give a shoulder to your friend. You would, of course. 

But you wondered what would happen if you didn’t. If you instead went to him. Of course the imagination can go as wild as we let it go but this was just not what you needed. 

Harry. 

It felt weird, and you didn’t know if she’d seen her. He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to breathe in. They’d probably had another fight. One of those loud arguments where both of them made absolutely no sense at all. The relationship both of them were fighting for but there was barely any relationship to be saved at all. 

Harry. 

There are secrets in life we all like to keep. This was one you’d kept for a long while right now. 

But you didn't know how longer you could keep it. You were in love with your best friend’s boyfriend. Probably ex now. Who wouldn’t be? 

It was the same old story, coming of age kind of story with no happy ending whatsoever and which led to this absolute mess, with every day your feelings growing deeper. It was your fault for becoming so close to him. 

You saw him again, cursing at the rain as his hair was soaking, he only cursed between his teeth again as he was debating whether or not to go back into the building, he kicked the puddle forming in front of him and groaned. That’s when he saw you. 

With your dark blue umbrella, and coat. Calmly watching him, not moving, not doing anything at all. 

You wondered if he knew. 

If he’d ever notice how your eyes brightened up when he was in the room. Maybe he had, all those years, with you in the shadows. 

When you met him, him sitting down with some friends, they’d introduced you to one of his, and Sierra had insisted on pairing you up with that guy. Teenage years, when one escapes to parties and tries not to come back home drunk for your parents to notice. A Halloween party, you’d dressed up as Wednesday Addams, he’d dressed up as Elton John. 

You had noticed him first, his green eyes had crossed with yours. It wasn’t really his zone, it had seemed. Sierra had caught his eyes, though. 

You barely remembered anything from that party, it was like any other party from that time. Drunk teenagers, gathering around to smoke and play a bare excuse of beer pong. 

It had been raining but it had stopped, that you could remember. You had gone outside, tired from the buzzing music that you could barely recognize, just loud strums and unnecessary words put together. Songs talking about material things and partying. Not feelings. 

You remembered walking outside to the wet grass and you avoided some other people making out on the floor, Britney Spears making out with Frankenstein, that was something. Some other kids yelling through their phones as they assured their parents they weren’t drunk when they clearly stung like warm cheap beer. 

You didn’t remember why you had walked out. But you did remember seeing him there, too. 

“Got bored of the games?” He asked you, he was leaning against the wall. 

There it was, the reason you went outside. He had intrigued you, why hadn’t he stayed with his friends? Why was he staring at the night sky? Was he that drunk? 

You had crossed a few words with him throughout the party, nothing important or particular. Very… forgettable. You’d played beer pong against him and his friend, the one Sierra had insisted that he liked you. 

But nothing too important. 

However you’d seen him walk out. It had awakened something in you. 

“I’m terrible at beer pong,” you admitted. “Not even risking playing.” 

“That’s the fun of beer pong, though,”  he commented. “Ge’ing your ass drunk enough.” 

You chuckled. “Well why aren’t you playing anymore?” 

“I’m too good,” he sassed. “Ain’t nothin’ fun in that,” he pointed out. “So, Wednesday Addams, huh?” 

“Yes,” you smirked. “Be afraid, be very afraid.” 

“You’re too smiley to be Wednesday, very pretty smile,” he grinned. 

“Thanks, Elton,” you grinned. You didn’t know if the warmth in your body was from embarrassment or if it was the effect the alcohol was having on you.

He winked at you. “So, no beer pong for me.” 

You rolled your eyes, and laughed a little. “I’m sure that’s not the reason why you’re here outside, your friends are having fun.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I just came here to see the sky—That sounds so pretentious.” 

“It does,” you conceded. “But I’ll give it to you, it’s pretty, can’t judge you, I partly came outside for it, too.” Although you hadn’t. It was no secret his eyes had staggered in your mind for the whole night and that the constant smiling had caught your attention. 

He had smiled, you still remembered it to this day. “Haven’t had a clear sky in days,” he commented. 

You shrugged, “haven’t noticed.” 

“You haven’t noticed,” he sounded incredibly offended, “didn’t you miss this?” He pointed at the sky, he was just slightly tipsy you could tell. “The stars?” 

That had made you smile and even laugh. “Oh, yes. I missed it, I just hadn’t realized how much.” 

“You hadn’t noticed how much you missed this beautiful night sky!” His movements were big, hands up in the air. He even caused some of the other teenagers to stop making out. 

“Shh! You’ve interrupted them!” You pointed out as the couple walked away angrily. 

“Tha’s great! Look at the sky fellas!” He reached out for them. 

You laughed. “Oh my god.” 

“Huh, they can be horny teens else here. Why ruin m’moment with the sky and a beautiful girl,” he grinned at you. “This only happens in the movies!” He yelled again. 

You couldn’t help but blush and cling to the red cup in your hand. He was drunk. 

“In the movies though, the guy isn’t as drunk,” you mocked. 

“I’m not even that drunk love,” he said. “I’m just concerned how you haven’t noticed the stars.” 

“I had noticed the moon was gone,” you admitted. “Bigger fan of the moon, alright?,” you said. “Right up there, see it?” 

“She’s gorgeous,” he grinned. You stared at it, bright and round, and you turned to him shining bright enough in his nose. “She’s the love of my life,” he stated. 

You had chuckled. “It’s a shame she disappears once every month.” 

“She’s reborn,” he chuckled. “Maybe we should learn from ‘er, huh?” 

“Really?” 

“Each month she rises up again and she’s beautiful in each one of her stages,” he commented, “no matter if she’s on her way to the darkness, she’s stunning.” 

You only scrunched your nose. “We’re getting a bit too poetic, are we?” 

He laughed. “Maybe,” he admitted. 

“I’m kidding, I like that,” you’d said. “We should all be like the moon.” 

“Hm, but if we were, who’d be the stars,” he commented. “It’s funny, we take the stars for granted but y’know what?” He chuckled. “Each one of ‘em is very particular.” 

“No one would notice if a star was gone,” you pointed out. 

“I would, the sky would look sadder,” he said. “And even if I love the moon, everyone does really, the stars are what paint the night sky so beautifully.” 

“Well the moon works hard to be seen,” you grinned. “I think we should compliment her effort.” 

“What about the stars? They’re so far away yet they’re freckling the dark sky,” he smiled and then turned to you.“This does feel like a movie scene, innit?” 

“A bit, yeah.” 

“It’s not one,” he added. “Or else you would’ve kissed me.” 

You coughed, blushing. You had felt butterflies. The kind of butterflies that hadn’t disappeared in all those years. “Yeah, it’s not—Not a movie scene.” 

You should’ve kissed him, though. But he hadn’t kissed you either so maybe that was the answer you needed.

“Is it the Wednesday Addams in you?” He wondered with a chuckle. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged, trying to get as serious as you could. 

He blushed. “What would you do if a guy worshiped and adored you? Who'd do anything for you? Who'd be your devoted slave? Then what would you do?” 

“I’d pity him,” you quoted Wednesday. 

He laughed. “You do know her, great.” He kept staring at the sky. “It would be great if a shooting star passed by, would add to it.” 

“Shooting stars, are they like the moon?” You asked.

He chuckled. “No, they’re one of a kind and shall be treasured. If you miss your shot then it’s gone, you should take the chance when you get it.” 

“Never thought of it that way,” you admitted.”hm who would’ve thought a drunken teenager dressed as Elton John would teach me of this.” 

“A wise drunk teenager dressed as Elton John,” he corrected. “You’re a lil’ bit tipsy yourself huh.”

You grinned. “Yeah, just a little.” 

“Besides, you proved my point!” He chipped. “You hadn’t noticed the stars!” 

You smiled. “Now I will, I guess, thanks Elton.” 

“I love the stars,” he pointed out. “Shame they’re barely seen.

“The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart,” you said. 

“The Little Prince,” he grinned. “You know that book?” 

“Everyone knows it,” you chuckled. “But yes, it’s my favorite.” 

“But everyone barely does,” he grinned. “It’s my favorite book, too, read it each year.” 

“Me too,” you beamed. “Helps me out when I’m lost.” 

“I always learn something,” he said. 

You grinned. 

“I’m Harry,” he had introduced himself to you. “Harry Styles.” 

And it rolled on the top of your tongue every now and then, that named you crushed and cursed. It had lingered until now. Of course his stupid name was perfect, too. 

You should’ve kissed him or ran along with his—had he attempted to flirt? Was he trying that? You knew you had liked him. One of those stupid connections, like he’d said. It had felt like one, one of those coming of age films. But it wasn’t. 

Short conversation that you couldn’t quite put your head to it. Didn’t make any sense, if you were honest. You should’ve kissed him, and to this day you still wondered what would’ve happened if you had. 

The story of how Harry and Sierra had officially met was his favorite to tell. He’d say it over and over, how a beautiful girl dressed like Puglsey Addams, because of course best friends always match, had accidentally ran to him and he’d spilled his drink on her moments after meeting you. How he had helped her in the bathroom to clean herself and they’d instantly laughed. How he had fallen in love with her the second he’d met her. 

Funny. 

They had walked out of that party, they’d probably gone for a walk. You remembered it. How since that day you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

How since that day you always stared at the night sky and watched the stars. 

Funny thing, he was the one to call you out for being in love with the moon and never paying attention to the stars, yet he had never noticed you. Taken you for granted. 

You couldn’t blame him, after all, the moon was the love of his life. 

You’d grown fonder of him, and Sierra had made sure you both got along. 

“My best friend and my boyfriend have to get along.” 

You shouldn’t have, though. Because with time you both were hanging out a friendship was forming, from his side. And then a growing feeling in yours. 

Had he ever noticed? 

Each time Sierra dragged him so you wouldn’t feel left out, but it was counterproductive because you’d fall for him. Because it seemed that his jokes were just made for you, and you couldn’t help but think that you were meant to be. 

Maybe he’d noticed that time near her birthday, years ago, when he’d call you to bake cookies together for your friend. He probably had noticed then. Maybe he had felt something, too. 

Licking a spoonful of cookie dough, and laughing against each other, how he would hide his smile, and how he’d give you those shy green eyes before avoiding a laugh when you’d said a very bad joke. 

How both of you were tiptoeing and dancing in the kitchen, music playing loud, as you were sitting on the counter and he leaned against it, scrolling on his phone as he played songs. 

“Okay, so this,” Harry had said, “this is one of my favorites,” he said before a guitar started to play. 

“The Zombies, She’s not there!” You guessed quickly. “A classic, please, you have to be kidding me, play something difficult.” 

“How do you know it?” Harry frowned, jokingly turning to you. “I swear—“

“I love them, what do you mean?” You chuckled. 

“But you’ve guessed every single song I’ve played,” he pointed out very dramatically. “Every single one, I swear Sierra wouldn’t have guessed one.” 

“Sierra has bad taste in music,” you pointed out. “I love her, but really, but she’s got great taste in cookies so she’ll love this.” 

Because you knew him. Sierra dated him but you knew him. And sometimes you wondered how Sierra couldn’t really see his magic. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about it, back then, how you fit so well together. How your laugh would synchronize with his and how every single joke he’d make, no matter how stupid, was funny to you. The way you’d try to hide some smiles, and how the tension would be broken when she arrived. She whom he loved. 

A usual friend. Should’ve remained as friends. You still were. You felt dirty each time they looked at each other, it hurt, so much. And they talked too cute, and they were always adorable. 

You had to stop thinking about him. 

Except you loved him, and you had realized it, that one time, around Christmas, one of those Christmas parties that you always had with your friends in which eventually Harry had joined in. You remembered how you got his name in Secret Santa. 

Cozy night it was, they were cuddling each other. 

You remembered how he had opened it, Love is a Dog From Hell by Charles Bukowski, a book he’d constantly mentioned, a book he loved. He had thanked you and hugged you and it had been the perfect Christmas present. 

You knew that. 

You saw them, kissing under that mistletoe that he’d jokingly placed on top of them. You wished you were her. Sierra being pretty and lovely. And Sierra having him. 

But then he’d decided to give everyone presents, maybe for accepting him on your Christmas party, or whatever he meant. How he was the life in the party, and how he had made you smile. 

And everyone got presents, and each of them proved how much he put thoughts into it, because he really wanted to make them. How he had given that one friend some brushes so they could paint, or a new camera to that other one. 

You remembered how perfectly unevenly wrapped yours was, with that silly wrapping paper that had  little Santas on it. He probably had wrapped it himself, you could see how it was cut, and the tape all over it, with a hand-made bow, so pretty. It felt warm, and it felt like him. You opened it, he told you you could rip it off, and you hadn't, you had so slowly opened it, you still kept that wrapping paper to this day.  The Little Prince. As if he was joking with you. 

He had only winked at you, probably unaware that he was digging a deeper way into your heart. 

And you kept loving him, watching him from afar as they kissed over and over again. 

How you’d help her with gifts for him, when his own birthdays came around, like when you told her to give him more rings for his fingers, because you knew him. And how he would share his news with you first because he knew you’d listen. 

You wondered if Sierra ever noticed he was more than the guy who had nice clothes, and the guy with that pretty smile. Did she ever stop to listen to his thoughts? Those that came at 2 in the morning. Those you’d been able to listen to at a party, where both of you were away from the crowd as Sierra was partying with some other of your friends. 

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Harry had asked you, that New Years party. They had kissed at midnight, of course. He had brought his guitar, a new habit that he had earned over the time. You loved every time he sang, raspy and quiet. Over the years he’d sing more and more with you, and less and less with crowds. He thought nobody wanted to listen, you did, you always wanted to listen. 

You only looked up to see her, she was. Dancing as the lights were jumping around with her, the music bouncing with her. Harry had his fingers brushing against the strings, barely stroking it, as he was so mesmerized watching Sierra. You always wanted to be seen that way, you never would. 

You could never be Sierra, and of course, why would Harry ever turn to love someone like you? When Sierra was so perfect and lovely. 

You’d never say anything, maybe Sierra did notice. But she trusted you. 

“Yeah,” you had answered. You had been cold. 

He could tell, you knew that. 

“You’re cold,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. 

“I am,” you admitted. “Tis cold, though.” 

“You’re never cold, though,” he pointed out. 

“I am today.” 

“I’m not cold,” he had said. “Want my jacket?” 

And he had given it to you, and Sierra had seen it. And she didn’t mind. Because Sierra trusted you, and she trusted him. 

So she didn’t mind when Harry had taken your hand to shove you into the dancefloor with him. Sierra had said it once: ‘he sees you as a best friend, I think he’s claiming you’. 

And you remembered being silly while dancing with him, how he put his hands in fists and shook them in front of his chest, giggling to himself, and gave you that damned smile. And by then by that time you aready had your own way with him, always singing to each other, being stupid really. 

Heroes by Bowie was playing, a song he loved, and you did too. 

“Just for one day.” 

You still thought it was your song.

And though you were the one to wear the sweater, she’d be the one to go home with him. So in love. It didn’t matter. 

But life goes on, the birds sing, the sun keeps rising.

It had been a long time since you thought of him that way, he was just one more, another broken heart. And you knew it, that life does not stop, she did not either. And crying for a love that never had a chance to be sounds foolish, insensitive and useless.

At some point you did move on. Because you had to, and you wanted it to pass but then it would always come, how he’d smile at you and you’d think of it, the start that one time when you should’ve done something. 

And it was weird listening to Sierra talk about him, she was so desperately in love with him. That’s what mattered, they made each other happy. And so, so happy. And though it hurt, you knew it had to be that way. 

You were the one to listen to both of them, whenever they had a small fight or whatever, both sides. You usually agreed with both, honestly, but always took Sierra’s side. She was your best friend, after all. 

And you couldn’t tell the world that he made you oh so happy, and you new Sierra probably didn’t even think of it, because you weren’t obvious and you had dates of your own, you dated other people of course, but you always ended up wondering what would happen between you and Harry. 

It probably didn’t ever occur to Sierra. Not to Harry either, probably. Because everything was so platonic. Like when he picked you up in the middle of the night just because he wanted to drive around the city, whenever him and Sierra had a fight and he needed to understand her and he knew that the way to understand her was through you. And you’d end up sitting on the trunk of his car, watching the stars, listening to him, making him laugh until the sun was rising. 

You knew everything about him, meaning behind every single tattoo, favorite movie, favorite song. You always had to stop yourself, so patient, but sometimes you couldn’t help it, your hand would brush his hair and you’d think about it, if you could only kiss him. Would it feel the way you dreamed of it? 

An indentation between you and him, always stepping back. But then he’d smile at you and you’d want to close it. Please, please, please, just once. How would it feel? To seal the notch, close the gap.

And once it had happened. Nothing serious, really. A few years ago, around spring, nothing serious. Not at all. It was an accident. 

Really was, of course.  

Harry had been excited about Spring, and Sierra always said that whenever spring came around love was in the air, and Harry wanted to plan out a picnic for Sierra so of course he asked for your help. 

It had been so stupid, an accident. He had asked you to go to the supermarket with him, and you were prancing around, laughing and having fun. He was always so sweet when it came to be so domestic. He was singing in the hallways as he was choosing the pastries, picking out the wine. 

“Something in the way she moves,” he sang along to the song, hand movements as he reached out for a feeling with his hand, exaggerated movements as he threw his head back. 

“The Beatles,” you said, matter of factly. But you knew the Beatles weren’t singing that version. It didn’t feel like a usual supermarket song, but he was moving his head and singing. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “However, they’re not the-”

“Not the ones singing, I know, that’s a woman,” you answered before he could fight back. 

He giggled, “Yea, this is Phyllis Dillon,” he pointed out. “Such a song. I’m impressed, y/n, you didn’t know her.” 

“Didn’t, now I do,” you grinned. “Unusual song for the supermarket.”

He watched you, tiredly with that bright smile that could light up the entire world. Sunlight. 

“This is going to sound rude,” he said. 

You raised your brows at him. 

“But like, if Sierra and I ever break up who’s gonna keep you?” He joked. 

You had laughed. “Like a dog?” 

He scrunched his nose. “I didn’t mean it that way.” 

“Oh, I’m most certain you did,” you teased. 

“Did not.” 

“Well I don’t think you guys will break up,” you had said, and you had meant it, because you really didn’t want them to. He made your best friend happy and your best friend made him happy. All that matters. 

He smiled, “you think?” 

“Yeah, I’m making sure you don’t,” you winked at him. “Also, that wine, Harold?” You asked before putting it back and choosing a better one. 

“Thanks for helping me,” he had said. “Y’er always such a good friend.” 

“Just making sure everything is—“

“Perfect for Sierra, I kno’,” he smirked. “And you always make sure tis perfect for me too.” 

You grinned. “I'm the mastermind behind the relationship.”

And the problem was he had leaned over to kiss your cheek, you guessed in an attempt to thank you for being a friend, but it had been an accident or maybe you had turned to him, subconsciously longing for your lips to meet his. Barely a peck. Yet it had felt… electric. As if a lightning had just struck you. 

One. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four. 

And he had backed away. 

Had he felt it? That buzzing and flickering spark? That thunder You’d kissed. 

In a grocery store. Planking a picnic for his girlfriend. Your best friend. This was wrong. 

“I’m—sorry,” both of you had said at the unison. 

“I—was going to—“

“I didn’t know—“

But both of you knew it had been four seconds. It’s funny, someone had once taught you to count the seconds between thunders and lighting. In thunderstorms, you count the seconds in between the lightning and thunder, the more you counted the furthest the lightning had struck. 5 seconds equals 1 mile. 

In matters of the heart, and considering this situation. The more you counted, the closer you were. 4 seconds had been until he had pulled away. 

4 stupid seconds. 

Could mean a lot of things, could mean nothing. 

Harry and you had stopped talking for a while after it happened. Neither of you told Sierra, but she had noticed you were avoiding her boyfriend which brought her to doubt him. No she didn’t think you had kissed. She thought you had fought or whatever she had come up with. 

“Don’t you like Harry anymore? Why are you not hanging out with us anymore?” She had asked you. 

“Maybe I don’t want to third-wheel anymore,” you snapped. “Enjoy your boyfriend, Sierra. I don’t have to be around twenty four seven.” 

That’s when the problems had started. Not between you and Sierra, but him and Sierra. It was no secret you had been the “mastermind” behind their relationship. But you had walked out of there. However it had been coincidental, or so you told yourself. It didn’t really have much to do with you walking out. 

Or had it? 

You had guessed you’d feel that way each night, with the light of your phone illuminating your face while the dark room paled your tears. You’d see his initial on the screen, and doubt if calling was a choice. He was never a talker, really. He barely liked to speak up. He was more of...actions. So whenever he didn’t do anything, you knew something was up. He wasn’t... really, he wasn’t like this. 

At least a text but he didn’t like texting. Nothing. His silent treatments were like others. The ‘H’ is silent, you thought to yourself. 

Funny.

Sierra had mentioned he had been distanced. It was around the time you started dating Daniel. Danny.

And you saw Sierra arguing over and over through the phone, and coming back crying to your shared apartment. Giving her your shoulder to cry on.

She said that Harry had told her he wasn’t sure about it. 

Which led to the first breakup. 

One that didn’t really last. But you remembered it perfectly, you were at a museum, date with Danny. Nice, romantic. 

And then you’d received a call, Harry. He hadn’t called you in a while and you weren’t sure why he had called you. 

You had looked down at the caller ID. He wasn’t a texter, you knew that, but—you answered the phone. 

“Hello? Harry?” You answered, with fear. 

Danny hadn’t questioned you. 

“Sierra and I broke up,” he stated. 

You felt cold. “Oh.” Your first instinct had been to call your friend. See if she was okay. 

“I—“he sighed. “I… can I see you?” 

“I—sure but—“

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in ten,” he said. “Please don’t—“

“Oh, Harry I’m on a date right now.” 

“You—what?” 

“Yes I’m here with Danny,” you had said. “On a date.” 

He had gone quiet, dangerously quiet. 

“But-I’ll call you when I get home, alright?” 

“Yeah.” 

When you got home, Sierra had her door locked and didn’t want to talk to you. 

“I need some time alone.” 

And you had called Harry but he hadn’t answered. 

One. 

Two. 

Three.

Four calls until he answered. Before you knew it, you were with him, driving again, he liked to drive, you knew that. To watch a sunset. As they said in The Little Prince, you see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad.

And he was sad, and he was quiet. ‘Could it Be Another Chance’ by The Samples was playing in the background. 

“I guess Sierra told you,” he had said, gulping. 

“She didn’t,” you said. 

He hadn’t dared to look at you. It felt weird, you hadn’t talked to him a while and seeing him standing there with tears wanting to come down. 

He coughed. “Well.” 

“What happened?” You didn’t know. 

He hadn’t answered, and there was that usual frown upon his face, thoughtful, very thoughtful and dark if he wanted it to be. He was sad or disappointed. You didn’t blame him, of course, breakups are hard enough. 

“Dunno,” he admitted. Endless nightmare when he didn’t actually say what he wanted to. He actually had that habit, but he usually showed it, with his eyes. 

“Then?” 

“Are you afraid of me, y/n?” He blurted out the question. 

“Why would I?” 

“Not in the--scary way,” he said quickly. “But in the way that we both know each other,” he said. “The way that it feels off.” 

“I’ve never felt off with you,” you admitted. 

“That’s the thing,” he sighed. “That’s the thing,” he repeated. “I don’t get it,” he said. 

“Did you feel off with Sierra?” You asked. 

He didn’t answer. Maybe he should’ve. 

“We haven’t talked for a while so I have no inkling on where you were standing,” you admitted. “Not from Sierra’s perspective, either.” 

He shook his head. “That’s the thing,” he said for the third time. “That’s the thing.” 

He had only turned the music louder, and sang along to it. 

“Danny, then?” He asked eventually. “Danny?” 

“Yeah,” you said. 

“And do you feel off with him?” He asked. 

“I don’t.” 

He had clenched his jaw.  “Is it going anywhere?” He asked. “Or is it like any other guy you’ve dated?”

“No.” 

“You like him, right?” He asked. 

You smiled, slightly, feeling warm on your cheeks. “I-” 

“When someone blushes, doesn't that mean 'yes’?” He asked. 

You didn’t answer. 

“I’m just, I’ve been wondering I’ve always wanted to feel with Sierra the same way I feel with you,” he had said. “Not in-” 

“Harry that’s-” 

“Sounds mental, doesn’t it?” He sighed. “To want a friend in someone you love.” 

“Someone you love should be a friend,” you said. “But I…” 

“Did you ever wonder about it?” 

“About what?” 

He shrugged. “If that night I had ran into Wednesday instead of Pugsley.” 

“You did run into me,” you pointed out. “It just wasn’t meant to be.” 

“Yeah, could’ve been.” 

But it had you thinking. Maybe it  had been stupid, but you had broken up with Danny after a few weeks of thought. Or maybe led Danny to break up with you because you had been off. And it had felt off, and it hadn’t but with one simple question Harry had made, it had you thinking. 

And maybe it was stupid to think that now that Harry and Sierra had broken up you could simply get your shot, but he had been the one to say it, hadn’t he? 

Shooting stars are chances. And he was one and you hadn't taken it. 

Just after you’d walk in to your apartment with Sierra, you’d seen them kissing again. They were back together. 

So there was your chance, gone again but then again it was stupid to think that you could get a shot, besides it was Sierra’s boyfriend. 

Yes, heartbroken you were. 

And it continued, for a long while. They were fine again and you had to be quiet again. Halloween, Spring, New Years, Christmas, Birthdays, parties, every single season they were there. All the time. And they were fine. For most of the time, other times not so much, and the second, and third breakup came around. Yet, they always got back together, even with all the fighting and yelling which you never understood, not really. Why would anyone stay in a relationship like that? 

You guessed that at the end of the day they still loved each other, and their fights were simply stupid and they always, always, always got over them. You didn’t, you remembered them yelling and fighting and just searching for an excuse to stay together, and then they’d kiss and forget it and they’d be calmed. 

It still ached, to have him around nd think of the stupid ‘what if’ that would certainly never come because even if you were given the chance, you’d never take it because Sierra was and would always be your best friend. 

Did she know? Had she seen it? The way your world stopped when Harry was around? How you’d make time for him or how whenever he was around you couldn’t take your eyes off him. Your bright and true smile, and how you’d listen to every song he told you to, or how you’d always be there to listen to him, no matter the time. 

How you looked away each time they kissed and how you wished you could find someone like him and yet it wouldn’t be enough because it wouldn’t be him. Because his mind was the place where you wanted all your secrets to be hidden. His lips were the only one thing that could make you feel, or so you thought, that could make you get to paradise. His voice was supposed to tell your story, and his ears were meant to listen to you. 

Yet, it was Sierra. 

Not you. 

Sierra. 

And Harry would tell her. He loved her, he lived for her, spared his entire life and love for her. And though you knew they weren’t happy, you wondered if you were allowed to tell them. Maybe you were biased, and you did hear them say how they loved each other but then it… You could tell it was off. 

The moment you had given up had been barely a few weeks ago, finally given up. You remembered how he had asked for your help. 

“I’m picking out a ring, y/n.” 

“Another one?” You had chuckled. “You’ll need more fingers, Harold.” 

“For Sierra.” 

“Oh, she’s not really a ring person-” you had started. 

“No, I… y/n I’m asking her to marry me,” he had blurted. 

You had paused. 

“Seems like it’s time,” he said. “And she’s been hintin’ it. Doesn’t get any better than this.” 

It hurt. But you had gone with him. 

Walking through the store, seeing rings and rings, jewelry.

“I dunno anything ‘bout marriage,” he admitted. “It’s ironic, I love rings yet this one I can’t seem to know….” 

“This one is pretty,” you had pointed out at one. 

He had made a face, scrunching his nose. Always making faces.

“Why are you doing this?” You had questioned. 

He had looked up at you. He knew why you were asking. Because things hadn’t been right but he probably thought this was the way to make things right, but he probably wanted you to question him. Harry couldn’t be tied, yet this seemed like he was tying himself. 

It made you sad, how he had lost what made him oh so beautiful, oh so perfect. His freedom. He was willing to take away his freedom. Not because marriage per se was taking away someone’s freedom but for Harry this particular decision seemed like it was. 

He didn’t smile anymore, not that much, he wasn’t as silly. 

“She’s my moon,” he had said. 

“Yet I remember you were a bigger fan of the stars,” you had called him out. 

“The shooting star passed, y/n, this is what’s meant to happen, I lost a shooting star, but I love the moon,” he said. “The moon is meant to be loved.” 

“Marriage won’t solve your problems.” 

“I know, but it might make me get back to my senses, I’ve spent all these years with her, I love her, that’s it, no other explanation, and that’s--” 

“Harry.” 

“it is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important,” he quoted. 

“Love doesn’t mean wasting time.” 

And the conversation had continued and you kept playing it over and over your head, and tried to understand if this was your fault, which you were sure led to the fourth breakup, to the one you probably were witnessing now. 

To this day, of you standing with your dirty sneakers, with two options. To offer a shoulder or to finally try and fight for something that probably would never work. To risk everything for once. 

Standing with your umbrella, watching him staring at you. Wondering what could’ve happened if it had been Wednesday instead of Pugsley. Wondering what would’ve happened if you kissed him. Wondering what would’ve gone by had you made a wish to that shooting star. 

You were willing to do it. Risk it all to count the seconds between the lightning and the thunder. 

-

part two: thunderstorms & shooting stars

part three: stars and fate

I’ll tag some friends who might like this: 

@saintlavrents @annathesillyfriend @tanyalooovesyou @harrysrightchelseaboot @harrysleftchelseaboot @wholesomestyles @whatevsholland @eerieharrie​ @pparkeramorr​

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 2: Fire

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You wake up somewhere strange *again*. This time your underground and greeted by Liu Kang. For some reason you trust him, but why?

A/N: Have I mentioned I’m a huge fan of the slow burn? Whoops. I’ll let you guys know when the paths are branching between Lao/Liu. Thanks for reading and hope you keep enjoying! Also, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

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Warm flames flickered off brown-gray stone walls. Other than the burning flame to your right, the room was small and dark. There was no door and you could hear movement somewhere beyond its opening. I’m underground, you thought. The air smelled musty and it was so dry that your nose burned. Underground and maybe in the desert. You closed your eyes again quickly.

In your mind’s eye you pictured the small purple flower Kung Lao had given you in your youth. Frail and rare. Many flowers had grown in your hometown but purple had been a new and exotic color. You’d always been fond of it afterward. You’d never gotten the chance to tell Kung Lao that. For a time you had kept it pressed between the pages of your favorite book as a memorial to the boy who had been your best friend. You hadn’t thought about the flower in years. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about him.

The details of what happened were fuzzy. You remembered the fight in your shop and remembered waking up to the face of Kung Lao. It was still insane to think that the boy you’d thought dead was, in fact, alive and in good health. It was even crazier to think that he’d been the one to save you from the fire in your shop.

You shook away the memory lest it return you to the darkness of unconsciousness.

You were, again, in an unfamiliar bed but things were vastly different. You’d been cared for and changed into a modest dressing gown, judging by the soft but coarse material. This had likely been done by a health professional. You were certain that Kung Lao must have brought you somewhere to be helped. Then again, most hospitals you knew of weren’t underground and they certainly didn’t use these types of gowns. It wasn’t a hospital gown, more like the type of gown that would have been worn for bed in ages past. Long and thin, but warm. You pictured it off-white. The one you wore had no sleeves, most likely for ease of access since you’d been injured.

You had to decide if you should panic or not. If you looked around and saw a medical professional or Kung Lao then you would remain calm. If you didn’t then panic seemed the way to go. Opening your eyes again, you were relieved that the world didn’t spin and you weren’t nauseous. But there was no doctor and definitely no Kung Lao.

There was a different man in his place, unfamiliar, shorter in stature, his gaze focused on something other than you. He was dressed mostly in black, no sleeves (which seemed the fashion of this underground wherever), and a red sash tied around his middle. His demeanor was calm and quiet and in his left hand he clutched a string of prayer beads. His skin was dusted with soot or grease, you couldn’t tell. He looked as though he had been handling charcoal for hours. He was also surprisingly muscular.

And handsome. You wouldn’t deny that you’d admired him. His brow was knit with concern and as you shifted, he turned toward you. Brown eyes met yours with genuine concern and he held a hand up defensively. “Take it slow.” His voice was soothing but this was all too familiar.

A strange bed and a stranger next to it after having fallen unconscious. He was telling you how what to do and how to feel. Again. Not a chance! On the small table next to the head of the bed there was a bowl half-filled with water and some medical tools. The tool closest to you was a hook used for stitching up wounds. It wasn’t the best weapon but it was all you could reach. You sat upright quickly, snatched the hook, and moved far enough away from the stranger that you had room to breathe and could better gauge his intent and reactions.

But you had moved too quickly and suddenly there were ten of him as the room spun. You thought you might puke if he got any closer. That would get him away from you, probably better than the needle would. Much to your surprise, he laughed with the subtlest of smiles. The smile radiated more from his eyes amidst his worry than it did outwardly. “You’re surprisingly fast for someone who has been in and out of consciousness for over a week.”

“A… a week?” You stuttered and forced your vision to focus on the blurry version of him smiling in the middle. Thankfully, your brain obeyed and the room stopped spinning. He didn’t seem to pose you any threat. You could tell just by his smile. A smile that made him all the more handsome. The time that had passed was not important so you didn’t wait for an answer to your initial question. “Who are you? Where am I? And where is Kung Lao?” Those three things were at the top of your list now that you were thinking clearly. There were a hundred other questions you had about Mortal Kombat, the dragon mark on your back, and other realms but you figured those could come later. Dealing with the here and now; that was the right way to do it.

“I am Liu Kang.” He bowed his head, holding up his prayer beads as he did. “You are in Raiden’s Temple where the Order of Light gathers to protect Earthrealm. Kung Lao is off on an errand at Lord Raiden’s behest. I assure you that he did not wish to leave you but had little other choice.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you leaned against the cool stone behind you. Answers, finally. “I’m Y/N. Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Kung Lao mentioned you would likely be defensive.” Liu Kang gestured to the bowl on the nightstand. “I have been caring for your wounds. I do not usually tend to the sick but I promised my cousin that I would see you were cared for.”

“Cousin?”

“Kung Lao. He is my brother. Not by blood but by bond.”

That was a relief. At least this complete stranger had a connection to the other near complete stranger that you’d met the last time you’d woken up in a strange place. Wait… hadn’t you gone blind? Setting the hook back down on the side table, you patted your face in search of a mark or wound that would have caused that. There was none. Liu Kang’s eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“The last thing I remember is losing my vision.” You explained.

“Yes, about that.” Liu Kang moved the hook back to its original place. “The men who attacked your shop were vicious and cruel warriors. They were gifted but squandered their gifts to satiate their greed, a thing that can never be sated. You did the world a favor by stopping them. However, the blades that wounded you were coated in a rare poison. It is lucky that Kung Lao found you and could bring you to us for treatment. The blindness was a temporary side effect of the poison.”

“Poison?” This was wild. That morning you’d been stocking your shop and had taught a class of ten-year-olds. Now you’d been attacked, killed a few men, and had been poisoned. Wild. You supposed, in reality, it had been over a week ago and not that morning. Whatever. You decided to take the blows as they came. Deal with the problems and insanity as it happened. It was the only way to keep a clear head.

“It took many days and much prayer but we bled the poison from your wounds. Now they should begin to heal.”

“I’m still stuck on the poison part of this story. Really? Who does that?”

“You must be very resilient, Miss Y/N. Even the mightiest of warriors poisoned so terribly would submit to death. You are a fighter.”

“Thanks… I think.”

Liu Kang bowed his head again respectfully. He was easy to talk to, you weren’t sure why. You’d been careful around Kung Lao but you found yourself immediately not careful around Liu Kang. There was an instant connection to him.

“I was ill as a child. It made me more resilient to sickness, perhaps.” You had been ill but it had been the kind of illness that parents sent their children away for, the kind where they couldn’t explain how their child saw or did things beyond their understanding. It had made you terribly sick and weak. Why were you telling him this? It’d slipped out of your mouth without permission from your lips.

“I have not met many who would credit childhood illness for their resilience.”

“Perhaps I’m more stubborn than most. I’ve been told I have thick skin. The kids would tease me for being different. I was told that I would never be strong. I would never catch up. Never be normal. I didn’t like that word, not even as a kid.”

“Which one?”

“Never.”

That subtle smile again. Damn, it was attractive.

“I’m sorry.” You laughed with an apologetic bow of your own. Your head spun and you mentally cursed your politeness. “I didn’t mean to say all that. It just slipped out.”

“It’s no problem. I would like you to continue your story if you would.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

“I assure you that I’m not merely being polite.” There was something genuine about his words, as if he considered them carefully before he spoke. Perhaps Kung Lao had warned him about you. Or perhaps he was just careful. Your first instinct had been to jump at them both. It was their every right to be defensive but you couldn’t be blamed either. “How did you overcome your illness?”

“I fought. I worked harder than most did just to be on the same level as everyone else. I grew out of my sickness with age and thanks to my hard work I became stronger than most. After that I dedicated my life to teaching others to become strong, to be more than the ‘never’ we’re told we’ll be.”

“Admirable.” Liu Kang seemed as relieved as you had been upon discovering he was not there to hurt you. Maybe he’d been worried about your intent too. “It is nice to have another worthy of their marking.”

“The dragon mark?”

“Yes.”

“About that…”

“Do you know why you are here?”

“Kung Lao said something about being chosen because of the mark but I’m guessing that the mark only came to me because I killed those men. Am I right? It had to belong to one of them. It’s less like I was chosen and more like… I stole it.”

“Yes. Did Kung Lao tell you? He said you wouldn’t understand.”

“I assume that he would have told me but then I went blind. As you can imagine, I no longer cared much about the mark after that.” You laughed and so did Liu Kang. His laugh was quiet and genuine. It made you smile far more than should have been allowed. His joy was as comforting as the flickering light of the candle on the side table. “I didn’t have the mark that morning. I can only assume that was when I got it. Weirder things have happened so it was as good a guess as any.”

“Your intuition is remarkable.”

“What happens next?”

“For now you heal.” Liu Kang gestured to your arms. The gauze wrapped around your forearms was stained with blood even though the dressings looked fresh. You didn’t feel any pain. Either you’d been given good drugs to deal or adrenaline was protecting you. “You are in no condition to begin training. Lord Raiden has been told about you. I am keeping him informed on your condition.”

“So, you’re my babysitter.”

“I prefer caretaker. But yes.”

“If it’s been a week and I’m still bleeding like this then I have a feeling it could take awhile to heal. Can I learn more in the meantime? About any of this? I don’t want to just sleep and sit around doing nothing. I don’t know anything about this place and I know very little about the Order of Light. And I definitely don’t know anything about this mark or Mortal Kombat.” Liu Kang seemed surprised, but pleasantly so, as if this were something he’d greatly desired to hear.

“You really want to learn more?” He smiled brightly. You nodded. “The masters have trained me for years in matters of Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm. I would be happy to teach you if you would allow me.”

“I would be delighted to have the company, Liu Kang.” You very much meant that.

“I have some work to do around the temple but we can start this evening.”

“Perfect.”

Next Chapter >>

[geekgirles]

Your Heart

Chapter 4 -- Stalemate Word Count: 8284

READ ON AO3

Waking up to the sound of her parents’ latest invention going awry was something she was sure she was never going to get used to. Never mind that she’d have an entire life to get accustomed to it or her newfound respect for what her family did for a living. 

As disciplined as Jasmine Fenton was, being awakened by an explosion was never going to be anything but annoying. 

Sighing resignedly, Jazz yanked her covers aside and got up, ready to start a new day. After showering and getting dressed with a long-sleeved, white dress shirt, a black ribbon tied tightly around its collar; a matching black, a-line skirt over thin grey tights; a teal blazer over her shirt, and brown ankle boots (which went well with her brown leather shoulder bag); she first made her way down the stairs to her parents’ lab. 

Absent-mindedly combing her pixie cut with her fingersーa decision she made after 18 years of rushed haircuts due to having been covered in some sort of unknown ectoplasmic goo after an invention explodedー, Jazz cut straight to the chase. “Let me guess, your latest invention just ‘malfunctioned’”, she air-quoted. 

As she expected, Jack and Maddie were hunched over a metallic device that had definitely seen better days, if the smoke coming off of it was any indication...What she wasn’t expecting though, although she should have, was her dad’s answer. “Actually, that was just the Fenton Toaster. We were about to start the day with a healthy, ghost-kicking breakfast, when she failed on us.” Had she been sixteen again or literally any other person in the world, Jazz might’ve actually been taken aback by the fact that her dad was tearing up over a toaster. Then again, she was Jazz Fenton and this sort of thing from her dad was as common as him yelling obscenities about ghosts. “Oh, dear friend. We hardly knew ye!” 

Rolling her eyes at his dad’s antics while her mum patted his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, Jazz muttered, “Dad, that toaster’s almost as old as Danny…” Who, by the way, was going to be ecstatic to learn the dreaded toast-drying machine from Hell had finally been vanquished. 

Speaking of her little brother, “Where’s Danny, anyway?”

Again, to any other family in the USA but the Fentons, that question would have seemed stupid. Danny was a college student who lived at his university’s dorms with his best friend, so the chances of him being around his childhood home during the school year were pretty slim. And, again, they were the Fentons, and her little brother had been going back and forth from his dorm, to Fenton Works, to the Ghost Zone (not like their parents knew, or even needed to know, about that one…) since he first got into APU. 

Maddie left her weeping husband’s side to pick a wrench up and start working on the toaster again ーpoor Danny; it seemed the evil, toast-drying machine from Hell was harder to get rid of than Vlad. “Sorry, sweetie. You missed him while you were doing your research. Your brother was here yesterday; he said he came Sunday night because he couldn’t find his dorms’ keys. But he’s back at college now.”

She suddenly stopped tinkering with the busted toaster’s inner workings, taking off her goggles from her face, a pensive expression plastered on her face. “Hm...I know Danny’s always been a little distracted, but he keeps losing his keys. At this rate he’s going to end up sleeping on the street just because he can’t get inside his own home!”

Recovering from his temporary loss of composure over the Fenton Toaster ー“I love you, guys, but it’s a miracle this family hasn’t been studied by professional psychiatrics already. Not like I didn’t give it my best shot…”, Jazz thought to herselfー, Jack was soon standing right beside his wife, towering over the pile of scrap metal with a matching pensive expression of his own. 

That couldn’t be good.

“Now that you mention it, sweetcakes,” he said, “you’re right. Danny’s always losing stuff!”

“Right?” Maddie insisted. “Don’t you remember, back in his first year of high school, when his English teacher, Mr. Lancer, called you over because Danny’s pants kept falling several times just that week?”

“Uh...the memory’s a bit blurry, Hon, but I know what you mean.” In truth, Jack didn’t remember any of that. All he knew was that he suddenly found himself chaperoning a homecoming dance. If only there was a way to get your memories back like those keychains that you attached to your clothes… And then it hit him. “I know, Maddie! Why don’t we make one of those keychains that you attach to your clothes so you won’t lose them for Danny?”

His wife beamed at that. For all his scatterbrained-ness, Jack truly was a talented inventor with a creative mind. Just a fuzzy head. “Oh, that sounds marvelous, honey! I’m sure Danny will love that!” She exclaimed before quickly pecking him on the lips.

Unbeknownst to her parents, Jazz grimaced in worry at the idea. Back when she was sixteen, or any other day, really; she’d have been overjoyed at the idea of her ghost-hunting parents creating something that was absolutely non-ghost-related, but since said idea would make it more difficult for Danny to keep his secret from them...She was just glad she was in town to look over him. Trying to appear supportive rather than dismayed, Jazz chirped, “Yeah, great idea, Dad...What are you going to call it? The Fenton Keychain?”

“‘The Fenton Keychain?’” Jack parroted before scoffing. “Of course not, Jazzy-pants! I was thinking something more along the lines of, ‘The Fenton Fermoir’!” He announced, striking a dramatic pose. 

The blue-eyed young woman started at that, taken aback. “Wait, ‘fermoir’? Isn’t that French?”

“Yes, it’s an adjective that means ‘that which closes.’” 

Gaping at her dad, Jazz blinked. And blinked again. And blinked a third time for good luck. “...you know French?”

This time, it was her mother who answered her, laughing her question off. “Oh, yes. There’s more to us than just ghost-hunting, you know?” Then she and her husband laughed together at her own joke. 

“Could’ve fooled me…” Jazz mumbled. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Um...oh, right. So Danny’s not here today, huh?” Her parents shook their heads. “That’s a shame, I wanted to ask him how things were going with...um...with, you know, school and all that. Oh, well! I’m sure he’ll tell me some other time.”

Jack and Maddie exchanged a glance. Ever since Danny started going to high school, their kids often acted weird. At first, they blamed it on adolescence, making them want to make an identity for themselves outside of their parents’ influence but not knowing exactly who they truly were, either. But the fact that their eldest child was 23, their youngest 21, and they still acted like that sometimes was a bit concerning. 

The wrench in her hand long forgotten, Maddie made her way to her daughter’s side. She draped an arm around her shoulders, not noticing that said arm was the one holding the aforementioned wrench and that she was unconsciously pointing at Jazz’s face with it. “Honey, is there something about Danny we should know about?”

Jazz panicked.

Yes.

Yes, there were so many things about Danny they should know about.

They should know their kid had gone through a terrible accident that changed his life forever at the tender age of fourteen. They should know he got ghost powers he spent agonising months trying to get control over. They should know he only ever wanted to protect innocents from ghosts and yet, he was labeled as a menace by the very same people he was trying to look after. They should know he’d not only been carrying the burden of being Amity Park’s unofficial protector since he was fourteen, but also became the king of an entire dimension and could count the people he could rely on with his hands. They should know he went through his very first serious heartbreak because the girl he liked hated his ghost half more than she liked him. They should know their college best friend was a fruitloop who wanted to kill Dad, take Mum from him, and either kill or adopt Danny; because, really, it all depended on the side of the bed Vlad woke up on.

They should know their only son was risking his life even more now because he’d made a deal with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park who, judging by what Danny had told her, was the embodiment of a death sentence.

And he’d been carrying all those burdens and responsibilities, facing constant danger, making decisions not even full-fledged adults would find easy to make, and had been aimed at with ecto-blasters by his own parents since he was fourteen. Being Danny Phantom had stolen some of the best years of his life away from  Danny Fenton. 

And they had no idea of any of that. 

But how could they, when Danny refused to tell them the truth?

Every time Danny faced a bigger threat than dealing with ghosts of the same caliber as the Box Ghost, Jazz tried convincing him to come clean to their parents. Because, what if they never saw him again after that battle? What would she tell them, then? 

But Danny would not budge. And, Jazz remembered, she couldn’t blame him. With the entire town, barring a dedicated fan club, and a good chunk of the Ghost Zone against him, how could he risk losing one of the very few places he could call home? Just like she told him when he asked her why she never said anything about his secret, it was his secret. Only he could talk about it with Mum and Dad. 

“Jazz, honey? Is everything alright?”

Her mother’s voice broke her out of her stupor. She must’ve spaced out for a while, for her parents were looking at her worriedly. Flushing sheepishly, she cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry. And don’t worry about Danny either. He just…” What was that excuse he told her he’d use if anyone started asking questions again? Oh, right. “He’s just busy working on a paper to help me with my own thesis, that’s all.”

Okay. So not only was it a lie, but it wasn’t exactly what Danny told her to say, either. Her little brother decided to respond saying he was suddenly very interested in the occult because he was writing a paper on a seminar he’d signed himself up for, but since she went back to Amity Park to study the witches there, it was still a good excuse. 

Said excuse seemed to calm her parents down, before they fully registered her words and they seemed worried again. But, she knew, this time they were worried for her.

“Uh, Princess? Are you sure you want to focus that thesis of yours on...witches?” Jack asked warily, looking up from the remainers of the Fenton Toaster.

The redhead rolled her eyes in annoyance; there they went again. “Your father’s right, sweetie. While not necessarily a bad topic...erm...it’s not exactly the easiest one to research.” Her mother tried to discourage her gently. “For starters, most of the  records we have are nothing but speculations and hearsay… I mean, the Salem witch trials were mostly based on unfounded accusations!”

How two of the world leading experts in ectology, who defended the existence of ghosts long before their theories were proven correct, could be so convinced there was no such thing as witches was beyond her. Arbitrary scepticism, much?

Jazz had to admit, she understood her family’s surprise when she opted to focus her thesis for her Cryptology class on the legendary women. A psychology undergraduate, a woman convinced of the infallible nature of the scientific method since birth, and an aspiring psychologist since she was sixteen, it was understandable that her decision to minor in Cryptology would come as a surprise to...well, everyone. 

But protecting your half-ghost little brother from the shadows for the last seven years had a way of making you question everything you once thought you knew. 

After all, if such a thing as ghosts weren’t only real but had an entire dimension for themselves, then who was to say such a thing as magic-wielding women couldn’t exist?

The moment Danny told her and Tucker he planned on asking them for help at the beginning of Fall only cemented her decision. It was a real pity Danny refused to disclose the supposed location of the Amity Park clan for her safety. 

“Mum, Dad, I’ve told you already. It’s precisely because of all those myths that I want to study them. For all we know, all those potions that are always mentioned in folklore could just be really advanced medicine. Are we really going to turn our backs on the scientific community like that?”

“And that’s a great idea sweetie! But…” Maddie tried reasoning with her, but nothing came to mind. Awkwardly, she turned to her husband and whispered harshly, “Help me out here, will you?”

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. “What your mother’s trying to say, Jazz, is that, if there was evidence on the existence of witches, we’d already know. Don’t forget, your ancestor, John Fentonightingale, was a celebrated witch hunter during the time of the Salem trials. He was an admired and respected member of his village, but the only thing he ever did was send innocent people to be burned alive.

“When he eventually realised what he’d done, he spent the rest of his life lamenting his shortsightedness; rejecting the fame and glory his witch-hunting days had brought him. And even if he ultimately turned to ghost-huntingー”

“Goodbye, fame and respect.” Jazz mumbled.

“ーthe hole in his heart caused by his actions would never be filled again.” Jack finished his tale with a morose expression, hoping Jazz would understand what he was trying to say. 

She didn’t. “Okay, that was a very moving story with a valuable lesson on the dangers of letting fear and paranoia overtake us. But what does it have to do with me?”

Still standing by her daughter’s side, Maddie tried comfortingly rubbing her arms with the hand that wasn’t holding the wrench. “We’re just trying to warn you not to jump to conclusions, because you might regret it.”

Okay, that was it. Her parents were in no position to warn her against jumping to conclusions; they lost that right the day she finally understood they’d been unknowingly talking about ripping their own son apart ‘molecule by molecule’ ーright in front of him. Jerking away from her mother’s touch, she put her hands on her hips as she sent them her most meaningful look.

“For the last time! I’m not going to try and, I don’t know, rally up the entire town against the witches! I just want to study them. You know, learn about their culture, about the origins of their abilities, about the differences between fact and fiction...” she shot them a pointed look as she stressed that last part. “I just want to understand them!”

“But you don’t even know if they exist!” Jack protested as she made it to the stairs.

Hearing her dad’s comment, she turned to face them once more. Oh, she knew they existed alright, that much Danny had been able to clue her in. What she didn’t know was where to find them. But she couldn’t tell them that. “Well, that certainly didn’t stop you from building a ghost portal to another dimension you weren’t even sure existed! And it sure as Heck won’t stop me!” 

That last comment should be enough to get her parents off her back for at least a couple of days. But the conversation had put her in a bad mood, something that didn’t happen since she learned to appreciate her parents’ ghost-hunting abilities, or, when it was Danny who was being pursued by them, their lack thereof. Stomping out of the house and slamming the door closed behind her, Jazz angrily made her way to the usual starting point of her quest. 

The Amity Park Public Library. 

The large granite building was supposed to be completely white, but the decades since it was built had washed out the stones, making them look grey-ish instead. The several steps leading up to the entrance were flanked by two lead lion statues resting atop a block of stone each. The front of the building, on the other hand, was both decorated and supported by numerous columns, with two of them at either side of the wooden door. 

Despite the impressive sight, what truly mattered lay behind its doors. Walking inside, Jazz let herself be washed over by the smell of ink and paper so characteristic of the library. Wherever she looked, hundreds of books stood proudly on their shelves, some of them so high up that the only way to reach them was with the help of stairs. 

Scattered around the library were several tables and plastic chairs where the visitors could sit to read their latest acquisition or work on the projects that brought them to the library in the first place. 

Breathing the scent in, Jazz walked over to the little counter located right at the entrance of the library, where the librarian would usually be working on her computer. Whenever she wasn’t out and about organising books, that is. 

Jazz waved at her with a smile. After coming to the library to study for years, she was basically a regular by now. “Good morning, Wilhelmina!” Wincing at her unintentional high-pitched tone, she lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “How’s everything around here?”

Looking up from her computer, the pudgy woman smiled knowingly at Jazz before willing her chair to get closer to her. “Good morning, Jasmine. It’s been so long since I last saw you; when was it again, two days ago?” Wilhelmina joked as she leaned in closer to the redhead, intertwining her fingers as her elbows rested on her desk.

Jazz flushed slightly at the harmless jab. “What can I say? You won’t get rid of me so easily!”

“Don’t I know it…” There was something odd about the way the librarian said those words, but the redhead decided to let it go. It was probably nothing, either way. 

“I wanted to ask you if you could recommend a book onー?”

“On witches?” The auburn-haired lady finished for her. Seeing the young woman’s embarrassed hint of red on her cheeks, she chuckled. “Oh, don’t be so surprised, my dear. You’ve been asking for the same thing for almost a month now! It’s just nice seeing someone retain some sort of interest for this old place and its books. Nowadays, most people just come here to surf the net for free.”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about me for a while, then! So, the books?”

Leaning back on her chair, Wilhelmina pointed to a faraway aisle. “Try the History section. I’m sure there’ll be a journal or something to help you with your paper.”

Jazz flashed her a charming grin, “Thanks, Wilhelmina. You’re the best!” As she turned her back on the librarian, Jazz failed to notice the dark grin that made its way to her face. 

Once Jazz was out of earshot, Wilhelmina said, “Oh, you have no idea,” the twisted expression never leaving her face.

As she walked around the library’s endless halls, Jazz couldn’t help but be grateful for having Wilhelmina as the librarian. Any other person would have looked at her like she was crazy or a Satanist murderer in the making for researching the occult so much, but never Wilhelmina. The woman just smiled at her and tried helping her to the best of her abilities. If Jazz had been looking for information entirely on her own, she’d have stuck to a particular section of the library, but Wilhelmina was always recommending a broader search. And, Jazz couldn’t help but think, it was a smart choice. One never knew what they could find or learn if they listened to different experiences other than their own. 

Standing in front of the shelf where the history books were, the aqua-eyed woman began scanning for something that might help her clear up the fog surrounding the group of witches Danny might be facing from now on. If she could just find out where their hideout was supposed to be… Not only would she be able to study them, but she might even convince them to ally themselves with her brother for good!

Ever since she was a teenager and found out about her brother’s secret, Jazz was determined to focus her thesis on the effects such circumstances could have on him. But as time went by, she came to understand that would be impossible. Writing a thesis on Danny’s very unique circumstances would be akin to exposing him, and she couldn’t do that to him. 

Because he trusted her. 

Danny’s number of enemies increased tenfold by the day, while his allies followed a much more stagnant rhythm. Goodness, he couldn’t even get his girlfriend to give up ghost hunting for him! She and Tucker were the only two people in all of Amity Park he could rely on. 

And there was no way she’d ever betray that trust. 

Which, sure, was a very meaningful proof of the love and bond between them, but still left Jazz without a topic for her thesis. So when Danny revealed his discoveries on the existence of witches, of all things, she was ecstatic. 

The possibility of a magical species living in Amity Park was perfect on many levels. On the one hand, it would expand their knowledge of the paranormal, with the added bonus of finding potential alternatives for everyday problems. And on the other, it gave her the perfect excuse to stay close to Danny and make sure he was safe. With her in town, he wouldn’t have to make up excuses as to why he slept in Fenton Works when he already had a perfectly nice place to stay at APU. All he had to do was phase through her room to get to his. 

And, most importantly, that way he had somebody else he could talk to about his double life. He was going to need it if he’d indeed managed to establish a truce between the spellbinding women and ghosts. From what he’d told them, those sorceresses were vile. 

As she walked over a nearby table carrying a pile of books with both hands, Jazz couldn’t help but wonder how her little brother would handle the situation. 

.............

Danny was not handling the situation well.

Although, it wasn’t necessarily his fault. Lady Arcana’s own unwillingness to cooperate was a key factor in their stalemate. 

Even if they addressed each other formally and obvious jabs directed at their respective species were, thankfully, non-existent, the coldness between them that reigned during their first face-to-face interaction was now stronger than ever. 

Just like the last time, he’d sent Skulker to escort the queen and her entourageーwhich still consisted of the same two witches; talk about confidence…ー through the Ghost Zone up until they arrived at his lair’s throne room. They still pretended they were both honoured to be in each other’s presence even though Danny was sure the Witch Queen wished she could just spit at him as much as he did. 

And knowing Desiree, if she were near to grant her wish, a cascade of spit would rain down on him.

This time, however, Danny had ventured deeper inside his lair, with the witches close behind him. Figuring discussing over inter-dimensional safety in the middle of his throne room would be unwise, since one never knew who could be watching, he led his guests to the Council Room; where the Observants, Clockwork, and heーand occasionally Frostbite or any other ghost with a modicum of authorityーgathered to discuss political affairs regarding the Infinite Realms. 

Admittedly, he wanted to slap himself for not thinking about it sooner. 

Another thing that was different and he had failed to point out earlier was that, technically, the witches weren’t alone. No, there was nobody else besides the queen and her two...guards? ーcould he even call them guards?ー but they weren’t alone per se, either. 

The bespectacled, strawberry blonde one had a pet owl perched on her shoulder. The bird, Danny had to admit, was beautiful. Its plumage was predominantly white and cream. The white feathers were more noticeable in its belly and heart-shaped face, with most of its body and the top of its head looking rather creamy. The owl’s black orbs seemed not only capable of seeing in the dark, but also deep inside your soul. 

In other words, the girl’s pet was pretty, but creepy. And he had a feeling that would be a stable of these women. 

The Asian teenager seemed to prefer reptiles, and, yes, he based his hypothesis entirely on the fact that the girl had a bearded dragon around her neck as if she was wearing a scarf. Danny couldn’t tell what was creepier; the lizard’s naturally spiky, scale-covered body and its little tongue licking its eyeball, or the way the witch scratched her pet’s chin and cooed at it when she thought nobody was paying attention to her. 

“Well, it could be worse. She could buy herself a cat and name it after a married woman who will never love her back.” Danny had to physically restrain himself from shuddering at the thought. 

But the weirdest thing, of course, had to be Lady Arcana’s own companion. Which, again, he was sure was going to be a stable between them. At first he didn't even see her carrying anything, her form obscured by her cloak, but the moment they entered the Council Room ーalone; Lady Arcana had stationed her witches to guard the doors, just as he did the same with two of Walker’s goonsーand she made herself comfortable (or as comfortable as she’d ever be in enemy territory), he spotted it.

Had she really brought a potted plant with her all the way from the portal to his lair? And, now that he took a closer look, was that a carnivorous plant?

Scratch whatever he said about the teenager and her lizard. The way the plant nuzzled her face or wrapped itself around her forearm as she gently stroked its stem was ten times creepier. Although, a part of him couldn’t help but think she and Undergrowth would get along swimmingly. 

Two plant-loving psychos bonding with each other. Talk about a meet cute. 

But never mind their questionable taste for pets. They’d been discussing for over an hour and they were still at the starting point. Time was money and this woman was going to make him go bankrupt if they kept going like this. 

“Your Majesty, I understand the situation is quite...extraordinary, but I’m afraid we are still in need of a solution.” He tried for the umpteenth time that hour. 

The woman before him just sniffed in displeasure. It was a good thing they were separated by a rather large, rectangular table, otherwise, he might have leaned forward and wrung her little neck out of sheer exasperation. “I am perfectly aware of the situation, King Phantom. But, as I have informed you already, there is not much I can do if I do not know the cause of the portals opening.”

But that was precisely why he needed her help! Getting frustrated, Danny let out through gritted teeth, “Which I believe is precisely the reason why I need you here in the first place, my Lady. You are supposed to be able to discover the reason behind it.”

“Well, supposedly, these portals are a natural occurrence of the Ghost Zone. How is it possible that you do not know how to take care of the problem on your own?” She countered, matter-of-factly, and Danny would have given about anything to get her to shut up and do something useful instead. 

“Supposedly,” he echoed, “your people have the natural ability to surpass the laws that separate the Infinite Realms and Earth from each other, and hence, youーshouldーknowーhowーtoーcounterーit!” His voice raising in volume as he spoke, he made sure to punctuate that last part for emphasis. 

Narrowing her violet eyes at him in disdainーhow could he have ever thought they were beautiful?!ー, Lady Arcana spat. “Supposedly, that bond was tattered after your kind’s betrayal.”

If it weren’t for the audacity of her statement, he would’ve recoiled at the gravity and resentment etched into her words. Narrowing his own eyes at her, he leaned forward. “Trust me, your Majesty, you would be wise to keep your mouth shut; you are in no position to talk about betrayals.”

As her scowl deepened, teeth borne at him in anger, a low growl could be heard emanating from her throat. But Danny was not going to be intimidated that easily. Returning the intensity of her gaze, the two kept eye contact, initiating a staring contest born from frustration and distrust. 

Eventually, the Witch Queen averted her eyes, crossing her eyes in a huff as she leaned back on her chair. Her little plant reacted to her turmoil, for it hopped over to her ーwait, it hopped?!ーto get her attention. Noticing her weird-ass pet near her, the witch began to absent-mindedly caress its little, purple...head?

He was never eating a salad again in his life; he ought to let Tucker know he’d decided to join him in his carnivorous ways.

Leaning back against his own chair, Danny pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. They’d been at it for more than an hour and, rather than discuss a possible solution, all they’d done was argue. Sighing through his nose, he called out to her, an idea forming in his mind, “Hey.”

Taken aback by his sudden drop of formality, Sam looked over at him with a guarded expression. What was he up to? Rather than answering, she raised an interested eyebrow as a sign to go on. 

Danny took that raised eyebrow and her silence as permission to continue. “How about we drop the honorifics and formality for a while, huh? I don’t know about you, but I’m a rather laid-back person and having to address someone as if I was meeting the Queen of England tends to stress me out. And that by extension makes me much more prone to get defensive.”

Sam bit back her reply that she was, in fact, as much of a queen as the Queen of England, and that he should treat her as such.

“And let’s be real; getting defensive with each other is going to get us nowhere, don’t you agree? Besides, I’m already stressed out as it is due to a matter regarding a black hole forming, so I bet I’m not the most agreeable guy to be around right now.”

“No, you aren’t”, Sam was actually surprised Phantom shared her beliefs about formality and social distance. But that didn’t mean she was going to lower her guard around him. And his last words took her completely by surprise. “...did you just say ‘black hole’?”

“That’s not something you should concern yourself with.” He dismissed the question immediately.

Squinting her lavender eyes at him, her suspicions of any ulterior motives never quite going away, Sam gave in. “What are you getting at?”

At least she was listening to him. He was willing to count that as progress. Danny raised his palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, we don’t know for how long we’re gonna have to work together. So how about we’re at least casual with each other? Because, I don’t know about you, but all this higher register of speech is giving me a headache.”

As if to prove his point, Danny rose up in the air until he was comfortably floating about three feet high. As he leaned back, his arms crossed behind his head and one leg over the other, nothing would’ve wiped the smug look on his face as he looked down on the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park, her own jaw hanging low in awe. 

Noticing the smugness radiating off of him in waves, the raven-haired girl forced her jaw shut. No way in Hell was she going to give him the satisfaction of amazing her. Even if she wasn’t going to say it aloud, Sam concurred with his point. Straightening her back, head held up high, she made sure to bruise his ego the same way he almost bruised hers. “Fine. Let’s drop the honorifics, I was tired of pretending I have any respect for you, anyway.”

Danny frowned at that. “Hey!”

“What? Do you seriously expect me to believe I’m not in immediate danger of being attacked by a ghost just for the mere fact of invading their turf? That you and your people actually respect mine?” Her voice was laced with cynicism as she scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

As much as Danny would’ve loved to contradict her, he knew he couldn’t. After all, he hadn’t just sent Skulker to escort them in fear they might get lost, the possibility of them being ambushed by vengeful ghosts was very real.

The raven-haired girl smiled triumphantly, knowing she had him right where she wanted him. “If it’s any consolation, if any of you so much as tried stepping foot, or ghostly tail, or whatever, into our territory, not a single one of us would hesitate to exorcise the Hell outta you.” Motioning to the door with her head, she added. “Susan in particular would have a blast.”

“Susan?”

“The teenager with the bearded dragon; Count Scalynton”

“‘Count Scalynton’?” Danny echoed in disbelief, before having to stifle a laugh with his gloved hand. Seeing the Witch Queen’s unamused stare, however, he sobered up. “And...uh...what about...the owl?”

“That’s Spooky.” Lady Arcana replied with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“And your little friend?” He asked hesitantly, pointing at the potted plant comfortably perched on its owner’s lap, but making sure his finger didn’t get too close; in fear of getting it bitten off. 

“Oh, this little guy?” Sam looked down at DeMilo with a fond smile. “His name’s DeMilo.”

“...are you serious?”

“You got a problem with that?”

“No! No, no. Of course not! DeMilo is...uh, a great name.” He quickly assured her, sheepishly. The last thing he needed was to invoke her wrath, again. Clearing his throat, Danny decided it’d be best to change topics. “So...No honorifics?”

“No honorifics.” Lady  Arcana nodded from her chair. 

“Right. So, instead of ‘your Majesty’, ‘my Lord’, or ‘King Phantom’, you can just call me ‘Phantom’ and Iー”

“You can just call me ‘Lady Arcana.’” The Witch Queen cut him off with a tone that left no room for discussion. 

The white-haired young man slouched slightly at that. Just when he thought they were making progress, she closed herself off completely all over again. But he couldn’t afford displeasing her further, so he’d have to play by her rules...For now. “Right. Got it. So...about those portals?”

As he asked that, Phantom leaned forward to her, changing his position mid-air so his torso was facing now upside down but his head remained straight. As the Ghost King lowered his body so his forearms were atop the wooden table, an intrigued gaze directed at her, Sam deposited DeMilo on the table, her own hands resting on it. Locking eyes, they had each other’s undivided attention. 

Understanding they were back to business, Sam sighed tiredly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I need to know the cause behind the portals’ strange behaviour. If this is something that can be solved through magic, then it is imperative that we know what’s causing it to figure out the best course of action to take. The wrong spell could lead to disastrous consequences.”

“Like?” Phantom raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Like sending the world to another dimension instead of closing a portal between dimensions.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do we figure out the cause?”

“I can start by looking through this.” Sam offered as she, seemingly, got a book out of nowhere, Phantom’s eyes widening at the sight. The reddish-brown leathered book was the same one she used to open the portals to the Ghost Zone, which made it their safest bet for finding a solution. After all, if the book guarded almost forgotten knowledge on how to open inter-dimensional drifts, then it should have the answers to more mysteries, right?

...............

Outside the Council Room, on each side of the door, Stephanie and Susan were patiently waiting for their queen. Well, “patiently waiting” might have been an exaggeration. Stephanie was stiff as a board, while Susan looked like a furious guard dog, the murder in her eyes only cemented the picture. 

Both witches’ emotional state could only be attributed to one thing.

Ghosts. 

Or, to be more precise, the two police-dressed, green spirits they were forced to stand guard alongside because the Ghost King wasn’t about to be caught dead (pun not-intended) with three witches and no back-up.

As much as she hated it, Susan had to give the spook credit: he wasn’t nearly as stupid as she thought. 

The teenager kept stroking the length of Count Scalynton’s body, currently sprawled alongside her arm, as she pondered different ways to escape the Ghost King’s lair and his ectoplasmic, door-floating, bloodcurdling realm in case things went awry. 

Beside her, Stephanie was lovingly scratching Spooky’s beak in an attempt to calm  herself down. Looking over at the ghost-guard assigned to her, she squeaked and promptly looked away when the spectre, having felt her gaze on him, landed his blood-red, pupiless eyes on her. Gulping loudly, she whispered to Susan. “Do you think her Majesty will be frequently meeting Phantom from now on?”

Susan whispered back with a sneer. “I hope not! Miss Wilhelmina was right when she warned me against these putrid, soulless drones. We can’t lower our guards, especially not now that the queen needs us.”

Discreetly pointing with her head, the Asian girl guided her partner’s gaze to her hips. Lifting her red hoodie almost unnoticeably, the strawberry blonde’s eyes widened at the sight; two crossed, leather bandoliers were filled to the brims with an assemblage of jars containing colourful liquids. Stephanie’s jaw almost fell open in shock; the 17-year-old girl was armed to the teeth with potions!

Realising they weren’t alone and the dangers in their secret stash being found out, Stephanie tried to appear nonchalant. Pretending to be talking in general, she added. “I just hope her Majesty is safe.”

Susan gave her a wry smile. “Oh, trust me. Her Majesty will be fine even without our help.”

...............

As she skimmed the pages of the spellbook in search of more information on the portals, Sam kept looking over at Phantom, praying he hadn’t noticed anything unusual. 

As satisfying as it’d been seeing his bewildered face when she suddenly pulled the book off seemingly out of nowhere, the truth was she’d been carrying it with her under her skirt. But what she worried about was not him finding out about the book, but the other items her dress hid from plain sight. 

Strapped around her thigh was a black holster filled with potions. Unlike the arsenal Sam knew Susan had brought with her, which consisted of several offensive and highly corrosive concoctions, the queen’s own collection consisted mostly of Blinding Bombs. As the name indicated, it was a type of potion whose main purpose was to distract the opponent long enough to retreat or come up with a plan. If things went south, all Sam had to do was smash the jar against the ground and cover her eyes, for a small explosion of light would ensue and temporarily blind the spirits, giving her and her girls enough time to escape. 

As she leafed through the spellbook’s pages, she suddenly shivered, noticing a cold presence by her side sending shivers down her spine. What was even odder was the sudden smell of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Dumbfounded, she turned her face to the side and growled at the sight. Snapping the book closed and bringing it close to her chest, she snarled at Phantom. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Taken aback by her sudden movements, Danny blinked. “Um, trying to help you?”

He had to be kidding her. “Come again?”

“I...uh...I just thought I could help you look for answers.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So I was trying to see if I could find anything useful in that book of yours.”

Oh, he definitely had to be kidding her. “No, thank you.” She turned him down, only thanking him out of politeness. She turned back to the book. “You’ll only drag us down, anyway.”

Danny was starting to get really frustrated with that all-knowing, condescending attitude of hers. Even his sister wasn’t as annoying despite her know-it-all tendencies. Hell, Skulker was easier to work with! Standing up in mid-air, using his leverage to stare her downーliterallyーhe folded his arms in front of his chest. “And how, pray tell, am I going to drag us down?”

He was surprised by the witch’s next action. Huffing loudly, she got up from her chair and shoved the book in his face quicker than he could blink. At first he had trouble registering what just happened (mostly because he was levitating a good three feet above her and she was still safely on the ground) until he took notice of the sparkly, purple mist surrounding theーfloatingーspellbook. He blinked in awe; so that’s how her magic looked like. Once the initial surprise had worn off, however, Danny had to admit, he was a little disappointed; he’d expected more than a floating book. 

Looking over the tome, he saw Lady Arcana staring intently at him. Instead of anger as he expected, however, an amused, knowing expression adorned her features. He might’ve thought she looked pretty hadn’t it been for the wickedness of her smile. 

“Read.” She instructed him. 

Danny did as he was told...only to furrow his brow in confusion. What the…? Reading over the pages he couldn’t make sense of anything written on them. The inked markings splattered all over couldn’t even be considered hieroglyphics! Squinting at the offending piece of paper, he tried reading aloud. “Spiral...lightning bolt...spork?...What kind of sick mind came up with this?!” 

Sam let out a hollow laugh. “You really think that if you were really able to read this book in the first place all by yourself, you’d even need to call for me?” She rolled her eyes at him, not knowing what to think; either this guy was messing with her head or he was an idiot. She motioned with her hand for the book to return to her “Limit yourself to keeping your subjects in line and let me handle this. Although, on second thought, I might actually be asking way too much of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The green-eyed ghost didn’t like where this was going. 

Still reading, Lady Arcana raised her palms up in mock surrender. “I’m just saying, for a ghost that’s supposed to be the undisputable ruler of an entire race after having defeated a tyrant, you sure have a lot of detractors defying your authority.”

“Oh, please! Like you know anything about my subjects or any possible detractors.” Was it true he was often fending off ghosts who didn’t care for his laws to stay clear of Amity Park? Saying he didn’t occasionally get his ass handed to him would be like saying his parents took kindly to people who disrespect their jumpsuits, but he didn’t have to tell her that.

“I know more than enough.” Sam countered.

“Oh, yeah? Name one ghost who doesn’t respect my rule and still causes trouble.” The halfa challenged. What was he trying to get out of this? At least ¾ of his enemies screamed their names and evil plots whenever they were freed from the Ghost Zone! In Ember’s case, she literally depended on people knowing and chanting her name. 

“That poacher ghost of yours...what’s his name?”

A poacher ghost? Who the fuck was she talking aboー? “You mean Skulker?”

Sam perked up at that. “Yes, that one! He so obviously doesn’t respect your authority. I mean, he literally hunts you, the Ghost King, for sport almost every two weeks!”

An undignified sound escaped the halfa’s throat, but that was the last of his concerns at the moment. “Okay, first of all,” he started, raising one gloved finger, “he so totally respects my authority. Whenever I need help, he’s always willing to put the whole hunting-the-most-unique-specimen-ever aside for the greater good. And second,” he sent her a pointed look, floating closer to her. He revelled in the way she uncomfortably shrunk away from him; served her right, “Skulker’s not a poacher, he’s a hunter!”

“Does he have a permit or a hunting license?” Lady Arcana asked, not missing a beat.

That actually gave him pause. “Well...no, butー!”

“If a hunter hunts with no permit, then he’s a poacher!” Seriously, how dense could this dude be?

“You seem to be forgetting that Skulker is a resident of the Ghost Zone; my domain. Whatever laws are followed on Earth or among your kind, do not necessarily apply to us.”

“That outta shut her up,” he thought triumphantly.

“So you’re saying you’re okay with innocent creatures dying solely for the purpose of flattering one ghost’s ego?”

Well, apparently not. Danny spluttered at that. Who was this woman anyway, Jane Goodall?! “Whaー? No, of course not!” He vehemently denied before changing topics. This woman was about to get a taste of her own medicine. “But what’s with all these pointing fingers anyway?! I bet some of your ‘loyal’ witches also commit their own atrocities right under your nose.”

Oh, she was going to blast him into next Thursday for that! Standing up from her chair, Sam slammed her hands against the table (careful not to hurt or startle DeMilo, though). “For your information,” she snarled at the ghost before her, “the only huntress in my clan is Diana. And not only is she formidable, sheーalsoーhasーaーpermit!”

Fed up with the ridiculous conversation and the even more ridiculous woman, Danny slammed his own hands down on the table, even if he was floating. “Again with the permit! What’s with you and permits?! What are you, a cop?!”

“I’m a queen!” Sam all but roared. “So, yes, it is my job to ensure certain jobs are only trusted to people with permits!”

Danny was about to continue ranting, but he stopped himself. All this pointless fighting was only making them waste time, and they couldn’t afford that. He didn’t understand how she wasn’t already exhausted from all the arguing. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let himself fall back on his chair. “Let’s...let’s just keep on investigating. Forget I said anything.”

Sam was about to retort when she took notice of the white-haired ghost’s tired eyes, her own fatigue finally kicking in. Slumping her shoulders as she, too, fell back on her chair once again, she continued reading. “Yeah, sure. That’ll be for the best.”

They stayed in silence for a while after that. Lady Arcana reading intently, and Danny praying to all things above him that he’d be able to survive the day. Eventually, the Witch Queen broke the silence, slamming her book shut. His head snapping up at the sound, Danny dared to hope. “Any luck?”

The queen sighed. “I have good news and bad news. Which one do you want to hear first?”

His heart sank. “The bad news,” he moaned pitifully. 

“Bad news is, there’s nothing in this book about what could possibly be causing the Ghost Zone to create more portals than usual. The most it has is the spell I use to get here, but that’s about it.”

Danny was convinced his heart was now lost somewhere along his knees. “And the good news?”

“This isn’t the only book that might have information on the Ghost Zone. When our people parted ways for good after you-know-what,” the look of resentment was back on her face and Danny didn’t know what to do; he should be the one feeling offended! “most of our knowledge was forgotten, but not lost.”

“Meaning?” He prompted her to finish her statement. 

“Meaning, there’s still probably many more books on the topic.” She finished. 

“Which means…” Danny began, only for the two of them to groan in dismay. As nice as it was that not everything was lost just because that particular book didn’t have the answers, having to look for another spellbook or grimoire meant they would have to keep meeting with each other. For Lady Arcana would never leave a precious heirloom belonging to her people out of her sight and in the Ghost Zone, and Danny couldn’t afford to take his eyes off of her in case she and her kind double-crossed them.

In other words, they were stuck with each other until further notice...He was starting to regret not being fully killed by the accident the day he got his powers.

[sankyeom]

fanfic writers tag game !

tagged by: the lovely @moonieric, thank you!! 💛 i’m excited to keep getting to know you better! and thank you @uwu0clock too, my dear 🌷

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

soooo many i’m pretty sure the first fan fiction i ever wrote was for the hunger games lol. then i wrote for one direction, 5sos, harry potter, marvel, the maze runner, narnia, teen wolf, supernatural, the 100, riverdale (don’t judge me season 1 was good) & probably more that i can’t think of right now

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?

a few!! the boyz, golden child, victon, tomorrow x together, ateez, cix, nct, seventeen & stray kids are what i have works up for

but i’m planning some things for enhypen and a few other groups at the moment too 👀

3. how long have you been writing?

ever since i learned how to write letters and words!!

i have a folder of all the stories i used to write when i was like four years old, i think i’ve gotten a bit better since then though lol

4. on which platforms do you post your stories

i only post my current works on tumblr, but back in the day i used to have thousands and thousands of notes on wattpad and quotev

not that my writing deserved it though, that was just the age of terribly written fanfic going viral al the time 😂

5. what is your favorite genre to write?

i like to write mostly fluffy things, but i really like having realistic angst, if that makes sense?? not necessarily something that will break your heart into pieces but something that i think would be normal to experience in love and life

i’d like to get better at writing mystery/action though! those are big struggles for me

6. are you a pantser or a planner?

1000000% planner, especially for social media aus!! i plan every single chapter of a social media au before i post the first chapter, and then i plan every post of the chapter as i go

sometimes i’m a bit of a pantser for written fics if i only have a vague idea and i want to let my mind wander, so i just start writing and see what happens

7. one-shot or multi-chapter?

i personally prefer writing a very long one-shot over multiple chapters, but i have yet to actually post written fics with many chapters on this blog

so who knows? i’ll have to try and see!

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

quality over quantity!! the perfect chapter length is specific to every piece

sometimes i feel more proud of and satisfied with a quick drabble or time stamp than a fic with 8k words! it always depends

9. what is your longest published story?

oh back in the day i was posting multiple chapters of 6k words to my fics on quotev every day, so probably around 120k words?

like i said, quality over quantity, though. i definitively included way too many details, like the characters skincare routine and such lmao

here on tumblr my longest fic is he loves me, he loves me not which is my tomorrow x together’s soobin x reader fic with 9.9k words! it’s also the best friends to lovers fic i think i’ve written on this blog, and i’m really proud of it 😌

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?

i’ve really enjoyed working on and they were roommates! my the boyz’s jacob x reader social media au. the concept is really fun and the characters are really dynamic, so every chapter i write is enjoyable for me!

11. favorite request you’ve written and why?

again, my soobin x reader fic he loves me, he loves me not. i accepted 20 requests once and i think i only fulfilled about 2 or 3, unfortunately. that experience made me realise how bad requests are for my mental health and writing in general!

that fic is my favourite because a friend of mine actually requested it since we had been talking about this concept but i had never written for txt before so i was too shy to start. and also because i think i did a good job, tbh 💗

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

i don’t think so? i write a lot about people who have controlling parents in some of my stories, but not all of them. most of it is from experience with my mum, others are just to add more drama to the plot

13. current number of wips?

before my hiatus i had about 6 fics that i was working on! during my writing hiatus now, i actually have been getting a lot of inspiration through travelling and spending time with my boyfriend. so i think it’s double that by now!!

14. three things you have noticed about your writing?

i describe the way in which people say things a lot, such as the tone or the action they do before/during/after dialogue

gotta have a bit of comic relief if possible

strong and supportive friends are a must!!

15. a quote you like from a published story?

‘ “And if we get heartbroken?” you asked quietly.

Juyeon cocked his head to the side, his familiar eye-smile appearing as he realised you felt the same as him. “Then at least I know that I loved you.” ’ – from my the boyz juyeon x reader fic splash!

wrote this based on what my boyfriend said, almost verbatim, when i agreed to date him bc i was afraid of getting my heart broken. that’s why it’s special to me 🥰

16. a quote from an unpublished story?

ahhhh i don’t have my laptop on me right now so i don’t have any of my wips up!! i’ll try to edit this to add a quote when i have it

17. space for you to say something to your readers~~

i don’t think any of you will ever know how much it means that you’ve given me a platform to share my writing on, as well as constantly giving me love and support here on my blog. you have turned me timidly writing in my bedroom alone to something i can do and share with a community. thank you all so much 💗🌟

tagging: @timextoxhajima @junjungsunwoo @lsangyeons @stealerz @kwanisms @xfirebenderx @softforqiankun 💛

[dadoroki]

Reminder [1]

Dabi x F!Reader x Hawks

Warnings: violence, fluff, Dabi is Touya and we know it clap your hands 👏🏻 👏🏻

Description: The League of Villains prepare for their upcoming raid. Dabi takes the time to study you, who he is already quite familiar with. The only problem is the one obstacle in his way.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

The team of villains watched the screen closely. The Hero Billboard Charts had started not too long ago and this was the perfect opportunity to study the enemies.

Dabi scoffed in annoyance. The ceremony was just an entertainment event judged by popularity and had no real purpose. It goes to show how pointless the title “hero” really was.

Number three! She may not be the number one hero. However, she is the number one in stealing hearts! The hero who makes dreadful weather look beautiful,

Lightning Hero: Storm!

Dabi’s full attention was now on the screen, watching the camera pan up to your contoured face. The last time he saw you was when you both were kids. Now you’ve grown into something more beautiful than ever.

You gave the crowd a wink and turned to the camera, blowing a kiss to the audience from the other side of the screen. One thing that never left you was your flirtation and Dabi was glad you kept it. Twice squealed, tugging on Toga’s sleeve who shared the same reaction as him.

“She remembered us! That gives me a better reason to love her.”

Toga nodded and twirled around the dim room with blushed cheeks. “I know! Isn’t she dreamy? I wonder what her blood taste like!”

She stopped beside Dabi, leaning back on his arm. “Don’t you agree? Look at you, you’re blushing!”

The man shoved her off, looking away from the live video. “Shut your mouth. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“All of you be quiet! You’re supposed to be studying them for battle and you’re all doing the exact opposite!” A furious Shigaraki yelled, silencing everyone and becoming more serious.

Number Two! He does things his own way but he’s fierce! With great momentum, he’s reached the number two spot!

Wing Hero: Hawks!

The hero ravishly posed with a hand placed on his hip, the other behind his head. Yeah, Keigo definitely didn’t change at all.

The top heroes stood in a line with Hawks already fidgeting with boredom. He whispered something to Endevour before turning to you, a hand covering his mouth from the audience. “Hey, you’ve heard what the media’s saying about us, right?”

You didn’t dare to take your attention away from the crowd infront of you, not even sparing the man one glance. “Because of you, people think we’re an item.” Hawks smirked, returning his gaze towards the audience. “What’s so wrong about that?”

You let your head fall forward, slowly shaking it back and forth in defeat. You had known Hawks at a young age, working together in the same commission. The more you both grew older, the more the bond between the both of you blossomed.

Apparently, Hawks had grown bored of the hero speeches, moving forward to grab the mic. “Hey, chicken wings. Wait your turn.” You hissed which he ignored. “Lets see.”

Flapping his big red wings, Hawks began to levitate above everyone. “If we’re just talking approval ratings, Storm is number one with the charm and flirting she does with the fans.” Hawks looked back at your annoyed face, smirking at your reaction. “Second is me, third is Edgeshot, and fourth is Endevour. I’ll skip the rest.”

“I think approval rating is the most important number right now. Though, I think the most important news everyone really cares about is if Storm and I are a thing.” You furrowed your eyebrows at the man above you. “What do you think you’re doing?” You whispered. The winged-hero ignored you, continuing on.

“There are speculations that we are dating, that we are hiding our relationship, or that we are even married. But the truth is, the rumours are just rumours. We aren’t together. At least not yet.”

You squeezed the bridge of your nose, growing more annoyed. “Hawks, cut it out.” You were tired of reading articles and sources giving false accusations and now, Hawks was doing them a huge favour by stirring the pot even more. He flew towards you, stopping beside you with a wide smirk. “Lets give the fans what they want. If I save the day yet again, you have to agree to go on a date with me.”

“A public proposal!” The moderator exclaimed in excitement. Cheers erupted from the crowd and you could practically hear it from around the world. You glanced up at the cocky man. He knew exactly what he was doing and he knew you’d have to agree in order to keep the people happy. He lowered the mic to you. “Well, what do you say, Y/N?”

Everyone grew in anticipation for your answer, even the heroes beside you and the moderator. You desperately wanted to say no but Hawks had you pinned in every corner. You sighed and gave in. “Fine.”

Everyone in the packed stadium shouted in joy, clapping and rising to their feets. Except for the ones who wanted Hawks’s spot, groaning in disappointment. You just got yourself into a terrible unfixable mess. Hawks lowered the mic, never looking away from you and keeping that same cocky little smirk. “There’s no going back now, babe.”

From the League of Villains lounge, a groan from Twice and Toga escaped. They were upset but not as angered as Dabi. He clutched his fist tightly. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This was never supposed to happen.

A young Keigo and Touya was sitting on a curb by the building. Touya began to fiddle with his fingers, thinking deeply about something that’s been bothering him.

“Do you think Y/N likes me?”

Keigo released the red feather he was playing with and faced the flustered boy. “Maybe, but who knows? She could possibly like me instead.”

Keigo was always competitive. His words didn’t affect Touya because he knew deep down, it was all just Keigo’s competitive nature. Plus, the boy promised him that he’d never in a million years like you. That was until his “disappearance”.

Even though Touya was “dead”, he was never really gone. He cared for his friends and watched over them. That’s when he noticed the change in Keigo. It would start off as subtle moves, gradually growing into full-on flirting. Of course you just had to be oblivious, your natural flirtation not helping the situation at all.

Touya felt betrayed. Not by you. He’d never blame you for anything. But who he did feel betrayed by was Keigo. The boy was supposed to be his friend. He swore he’d never see you as anything more than just a friend. And there he was, laughing with you, smiling at you, holding you close.

Touya’s trust in people would never be the same and he’d do anything to get back at Keigo.

“You alright there, Dabi?”

Dabi ignored the worried Twice and stormed out of the room, leaving everyone confused.

With weeks worth of preparation, the small group of top pro heroes hid quietly behind the buildings, getting ready to initiate their plan. Thankfully for you, you weren’t partnered up with Hawks but instead with Mirko.

“Pretty lady, do you copy? Do you copy, pretty lady? Over.” Psss

You placed a hand on your earpiece, scoffing at the nickname. ���What?”

“Oh, you’re alive. Good. So for our date, where do you wanna go? Over.” Pss

“You don’t have to say ‘over’ everytime you’re done talking. You know that right?”

Silence from the other line.

“Yakitori, got it. Over.” Pss

You sighed, releasing your hold on the piece. Mirko nudged your arm with a grin. “Was that your boyfriend?” Just hearing those words made you roll your eyes without the intent of even trying. “No, don’t have one and don’t want one. Unless you wanna be that special somebody to me.” You teasingly winked as a joke.

A signal interrupted your conversation, indicating it was go-time. You watched as the league exited their building and you raised your arms far apart, letting your quirk do the work. Clouds began to huddle against each other and violent lightning struck down, one hitting a power pole which caused an explosion. A perfect distraction.

With that, the heroes rushed into action. You flew your way to a group of Twice’s duplicates and took a stance. You didn’t even have to fight since the men were already giving you heart eyes, arguing with one another on who loved you more. That allowed you to send a huge storm of wind their way, causing them to fly in all types of directions.

Before catching a break, you felt a shadow behind you which made you fully turn, quick to grip the sharp blade by your neck. Toga licked her lips and maliciously smiled at you. “Storm, right? I’m such a huge fan.” You hissed at your opened wound that began to slowly drip of your blood. “Yeah, I bet you are, sweety.” You gazed up at the newly crowded clouds you created, sending a lightning strike to the girl who fell down unconscious.

You were about to attack one of the Nomus until one of the villains caught your eye. Dabi slowly trailed his way towards a busy Hawks with angry eyes. But they weren’t just angry. Those eyes held frustration, disgust, even a look of lifetime rage.

Dabi didn’t have enough time to meet with Hawks but instead, he was met with you as you flew infront of him. He smirked and dusted his hands on his black pants. “Well isn’t she a beauty?”

You scoffed at the compliment, preparing yourself for battle. “Ever wondered what would happen if you mixed fire with lightning?”

The man only held his smirk, prepping his hands. “No, but I’d like to see what it could create if you know what I mean.”

Electrical discharge shot out of your hands and towards Dabi, him doing the same with his flames. Both lightning and fire met eachother in the center and it was an ongoing battle to see which person it’d end up striking. Instead, it caused another huge explosion and the impact caused you to shoot back.

You fell to the ground, scrapes and bruises forming on your body from the rough fall. Smoke surrounded the two of you and you heard the villains retreat from the battlefield.

“I guess our time is cut short. I’ll see you around.”

Dabi began to walk away before stopping, taking one last glance at you.

“Oh, and Y/N...”

Your head shot up at the sudden call of your name. The name you’ve never heard come out of anyone’s mouth with an exception of Hawks. He was the only person who’d be able to call you by that forbidden name.

“Don’t forget that promise you made for me.”

What promise? You’ve never met this man until today. With that, the scarred man left you with nothing but confusion.

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Puppet Strings

Please don’t police the shit out of me for this one (I’ve read and seen all of what’s happening in Tumblr with the talented authors 😭😫---either way, I DGAF if I get judged for writing this. Y’all are getting this for free. LMAO. Welcome to my freakin’ kinky world. 😭

MASTERLIST

Characters: Stephen Colley x Reader

Summary: You’ve had Stephen wrapped around your finger by using your family’s kindness to your advantage---keeping him guilty and complying over whatever wishes you wanted---he was giving it due to your manipulative, cunning persona. You were being head-over-heels for him that made you have your reasons, thinking that being the way you are was fine for your strong obsession. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+ Manipulative reader. Obsessed reader. This is quite dark for me because she’s using our puppy to her benefit (somehow?)---using Stephen as if he’s her boy toy. Spitting. Sub!Stephen. Porn with a plot. (Though, this was planned to only be porn without a plot LMAO) Dub-con. Exhibitionism. Angst? Thirsty ass reader. Not connected to the plot of the movie.

Words: 3,810+

A/N: I didn’t know what happened that this ended up this way. Please don’t judge my soul for this.I was all ‘oh my baby stephen’ to writing this filthy shit. Also, Stephen’s 20 in this and the reader is 19, okay? So, legal. (In my country it is) ENJOY, FILTHY LADIES! This made me pout because of how soft Stephen is and the reader is quite...Eh. 😭 I think this will be a 3-5 part fic. Heehee. Or maybe not----lmao. We’ll see. 

Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS PART! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB!  

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

THE SMELL OF BLUEBELLS WAS ARDENT AND SWITH, it's scent thoroughly withstanding and wafting through your nose with the odor of sweat. Stephen's earthy and musk scent adding more stimulation to what was being given down south and around the canvas of your breasts.

An ample amount of slime trailed a path from the swell of your knockers through the meander of your neck, feeling a pair of soft, delicate lips having its way and paving to have a suck; thrilled and exploratory over giving you a mark that you surely ordered him around to.

You've felt the tiny nibbles on your neck, feeling full over being filled by the cock of your family's lackey who happened to be under your manipulative, presumptuous fingers. Stephen was having his way with you, as he was commanded to do so in the middle of harvesting crops; all sweaty, dirty and masking in his domestic labor as your fingers hooked along his belt hoops, pulling him away from the field towards a veiled place where bluebells were filled.

The first time you've had sex with Stephen, he was beyond hesitant. His rosy cheeks fueled as if it was on fire from the moment you've asked him for more of his services; to be the one to take your virginity rather than a rich, middle aged man who had terrible mustaches that crept the heck out of you.

Stephen and his pure innocence understood your favors of help by wanting him to accompany you in the city while you buy things for yourself or stuff that your mother asked to buy.

Much to your dismay for his lack of apprehension, It wasn't the type of aid you were asking for.

How pretty his face flushed a lot more from how you've frankly told him that you needed a different type of assistance to satisfy that curiosity of yours made you giggle, the desire pooling more in the pit of your stomach, filling in the prurient passion as if it was enough to stimulate you.

Stephen Colley was utterly pretty, beyond God's work as he was sculpted with a face of a Greek God as people have been saying. Your family even admiring God's work of art by how he was created; enough to be painted and inspired to be sculptured in the museums. He was the first boy in your fantasies and the only one that could make you breathe deep breaths in between rubbing the itch in your mound as you explored your body by yourself that nobody ever had yet.

He was your fantasy. The boy in your dreams that you would gladly want to have in your life for years end.

After welcoming the afterglow of an orgasm, such debauched thoughts came into your head in the same time you've wanted to rub onto that button again for thinking about him.

You were going to have him. You wanted him, you've mindlessly convinced yourself. Stephen was a plague that could infect your precious little mind---the facade of an innocent, kind and shy sweetheart that your family has been seeing from you was ruined when you've reached puberty.

It wasn't helping that Stephen walked around the house with clothes that you surely want to ruin. Your mind being influenced by your older sister's experiences with men and how her sex life have been.

She was a wild one and deep inside---no matter how much you tell yourself that it was a deed that people respectfully hold onto, the untamed part of you wanted to experience it with the boy who had adorable rosy cheeks and a gorgeous accent that could make you gush.

Being in line with the heavens, you were lucky Stephen was quite naive despite being a year older than you and with all the plans you had inside your head, being manipulative and guilt-tripping him till he would obey was the only answer for him to accept your offers because the boy was beyond nice and respectful, innocent---delicate as he may seem in being a rose without thorns amongst the bundle of daisies growing along the field.

You weren't his first to be honest; hearing that he had his virginity taken by a lady when he was taking a trip to the city, the woman being older than him and enamored by his beauty, she was very pretty as Stephen saw her the first time---growing a little crush before the lady has offered him a night filled with pleasure, leaving him alone the next morning and a ton of cash that has left him heartbroken by expecting a number or a sweet filled morning with her.

Was this obsession you had for Stephen? you couldn't tell while having the luck of being boffed by him no matter how tentative he may been. The phrase you've been telling whenever he was reluctant held a powerful will for making him capitulate over your wishes.

'You're working for us---I'm your miss. Shouldn't you always follow what I have to say, Stephen?'

Guileful and conniving for you, but you've had no other choice especially when you've heard your sister gossip about how he was starting to take a liking over a girl across the neighborhood, the lady living in a castle---going way back with him and her family because they've known each other since they were kids until they've moved away and came back to their hometown.

Cassandra. That was her name. It was a name that should be left forgotten in Stephen's mind.

Your boy shifted in between your opened legs, your dress hiked up and his trousers unbuttoned; stopping on the end of his derriere as he stuck his swollen cock inside your tight folds, kissing and licking along your throat and breasts that had you mewling beneath him.

Begging him to take you in the middle of the grass to relieve that fantasy only he could satisfy, you've laid beneath him and promised that he could take his time and do whatever he pleases. Exploring every inch and depth of your body with your dress being in a bunch and unfastened by Stephen. Today, you've just wanted to feel him, touch him and let him be inside you because of certain feelings that can't be resisted.

He was patiently taking his time, both of you basking in the afternoon glow before dusk and never bringing in a gas lamp before night even arrives. Stephen was licking your taut nub, his mouth close to your nipple as his hot breath was fanning along his own saliva, bringing pleasure and satisfaction. Another weak whimper erupted from your mouth, watching his eyes closed; tongue darting out to flick your other hardened nipple before deeply moaning out his approval as he devoured your breasts with a tight, strong suck.

The lewd action was enough to make your spine and toes curl.

You've flexed your cunt, tightening around his girth and you've heard him lowly groan with your nipple in his mouth. He immediately pulled his mouth off your breasts with a pop. Innocent, lust-filled baby blues stared above you, the flicker in his eyes asking and waiting for your next behest.

"Stephen," was the only word you managed to croak out, sounding like you were being choked as you felt him slowly pull out of your thirsty cunt. He leaned his head to the left, dipping his head and giving you a kiss which caught you off-guard; it was plain and enough to take your mind off his throbbing cock that has slithered in. After being explored by his mouth on your body, Stephen's lips that landed on you to give a peck surely felt unfamiliar because you both rarely do share kisses in the midst of intercourse.

His crimson colored lips on yours felt divine. The sudden smooch probably involuntary in his part because of how sexually intimate you were being with him. You've swallowed the moan forming in your throat by feeling him wholly pull out, moaning and whining from the lack of imbue and by forcing yourself not to have your way with his lips---wanting nothing but to dance your mouth with his.

You knew this was a one-sided affection and he didn't entirely adored you like how you do for him.

Your fingers gripped onto the grass on either side, it traveled and clasped around Stephen's neck that felt balmy beneath the pad of your fingers. Drops of perspiration smoothening out as you watched him pant above you, breathless and in a daze. His cheeks turning rosier and crimson from such scabrous act you've brought him in.

He was heavy and scathing on your thigh. His hand grabbing onto the growing base of his throbbing, uncut, hard cock as he looked between you both, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he was feeling his cock on his hands, fingers enclosing around his girth to give it one jerk that made you salivate.

His neck was sweating, drops of perspiration falling along his temples and to distract yourself, you've darted your tongue out to sweep the sweat off his face, catching him off guard that made him throatily groan and cast you a look, his eyes withdrawn and thoroughly focused on what taboo you tried to help him be accustomed with.

The place you decided to be ravished on was rather risquè but also getting you more thrilled to know that your sister knew this spot as a location you always spend time with whenever you were reading. You've heard tiny shuffling of bushes which made Stephen look away and observe whoever that was with his eyebrows knotted together---distracting him and pushing the worry away just like you always do, you've quietly whispered in his ear.

"Put that cock in me, Stephen. Please,"

At the sound of you pleading, it was enough to pull his thoughts away from being concerned over your family catching you both in such a raunchy moment. Their daughter laid amongst the land, being ravished by their worker who they've trusted for all their heart---a boy whom they didn't expect to be salaciously connected with you.

The both of you were in for a tough scolding if caught.

Pointing the head of his cock in your entrance, he'd swiftly drove in. You were wet enough for him to slip inside with the right tightness of your cunt that pushed him to grunt as he filled you in one go. Your back curled from the penetration, the thirst for sexual gratification being answered by Stephen when he started to thrust his hips, experimenting over the pace that could make you moan around his arms before pummeling like how he wanted to.

"Oh yeah---yeah---yes, just like that," you've choked in your own moans and pleasure, licking your lips and watching how he was defiling your cunt with his cock, your slick moisturizing his---the filthy sound of your juices coating his, thrusting in and out of your folds; becoming music to the sound of insects probably watching how you were both sending each other raptures.

Stephen knew how thrilled you were becoming by the audible sound of how filthy he was making you feel. Being aware of the obscene sound whenever he tries to fasten the pace, slowing down to let you both appreciate the erotic sense of debauchery has gotten you biting your lip up at him.

You were his miss and whatever you wanted was his job to give.

He'd slip a hand in between you, the pad of his thumb finding your clit and when he did, Stephen started rubbing that throbbing nub of yours in rough, circular motions making your core jerk, your hips chasing his hand with each thrust he gives; entirely accepting and embracing the sheer pleasure he was giving.

Your boy was deeply grunting with each shove of his hips, his cock befouling your scheming soul and you were loving every moment---cherishing the sounds he create that only you could muster.

Only you, not Cassandra---not anyone.

In the midst of such onslaught and currently trapped in your own bliss, you've never took heed of Stephen panting out your name; thinking that he was bemoaning his desperation for continuously prodding your hole in a greedy pace, his carping had a flicker of perturbation in his diluted, lust-filled baby blues as he tried to catch your attention.

"Miss---Miss," Stephen couldn't stop his smutty assaults. Too concentrated on reaching both of your highs as he peered down at you with his peepers growing larger when he heard your name being called from afar; being an echo of warning that what you were both caught up with was utterly unchaste.

"---your family---ugh---they're seeking for you," he grunted with every word and plunge; his pace never stopping and his fingers reaching further down to polish your clit. Your leak being spread all over your folds as he licked his lips, admiring how you were writhing beneath his body---how you reacted to his ministrations.

Their voices echoed from afar, alerting you both that they were closer than you imagined them to be. It was the dead of the night already, the time after nightfall as you both welcomed the sins of passion that you have gotten Stephen to be involved in again. Being in the shadows of the night, the moment was easier to covert from your family as you laid to satisfy your mania. The ruffle of grass being stepped on repeatedly actually has been the sound of Stephen ardently violating your cunt along the land of dew.

You've both turned your heads to see light coming from the far distance. A buzz of incomprehensible words of unknown from your sister who was mindlessly telling her hunches as to where you both went; remembering that Stephen was also not around for her to ask if he could buy stuff around town because it was already night time.

"Oh, yes!---don't mind them!---just do me,"

He slowed down his pace, skeptical over being caught but never stopping his thrusts while his features turned conflicted over being dubious and also feeling like he was floating for the twist of elation written on your face from his drives. You've grabbed onto his hair, roughly turning his head to face yours as he loudly grunted and groaned above you, the sound made you slip a finger on his lips to shush his moans.

"You're not going to get caught---we're not going to get caught. Just stifle your moans. You can do that. You're a good boy---our good boy and you'll make me cum, right?"

The whispers you've managed to slip past your lips made him stare down at you, understanding what you were trying to point out and it has not been seconds before he'd nodded before you, starting his relentless pace that made you sigh as he was trying to build up your orgasm again, grabbing onto your ankle and hooking it around his hip as he continued to forge himself in you; his breath hitting your face with every push---grunts being uncontrolled from the actions.

You've heard a twig break from behind, not wanting Stephen to be distracted---you've grabbed onto his face and forced him to look at you; your heart beat never ceasing to run fast whenever he stares into your eyes. The fast heart beat also being the cause of your orgasm coming.

He'd shifted in between you, your hips bucking to meet every thrust he offered. Mewling out lewd moans whenever he hits that spot that felt so heavenly. Reaching for his hand, you've guided him back to where he has been flicking---your clit that he immediately rubbed on as you were approaching your high.

Loud, rough grunts came from his throat, feeling his own coming as your cunt gripped him hard for the sounds he was creating. Your mouth and face contorted in sheer pleasure when you've violently thrashed against his hold. Stephen's unconscious response was to grab onto you, keeping you closer to his lean, muscular body---a wiry sculpted body from all the hard work that he does for your family; convulsing in his arms as you gushed around his penetrative cock.

Rambunctious ugh's came from the both of you, especially from your boy who was in the midst of coming. Your sensitive cunt was jolting as Stephen went on in propelling himself, his face of bliss bringing you ecstacy as it was hot for a beautiful face to be debauched like that. You've forgotten your family who was in search for you when he wholly pulled out just in time for him to spill his warm seed over your torso, his load shooting out in spurts as he breathed heavily above you.

You've both shared silence after a moment of paradise. As a habit you've held Stephen accountable, he'd delicately held onto your jaw with his calloused fingers, pinching them together to set forth over opening your mouth. It was an understanding and idea that you told him about after an act of pleasure. He was against the idea at first before you've basically convinced him that there would be no moment as if you were being degraded. But, he somehow has become used to it after quite some time.

Besides, it was one of your wishes. His miss surely needed to have it when she wants it.

Gradually opening your lips, Stephen has lined his mouth on you. Drawing down a line of spit and aiming to shoot it inside; thoroughly not bothered about the fact of it already as he spat inside your mouth, making you grin as he gathered his spilled cum on your torso with a finger, slipping them inside your vermillion, his eyes in a daze as he concentrated over the mouth that has sucked on his cream-filled fingers---swallowing the mixture of his saliva and release like it was food for your tainted soul.

He certainly didn't expect you to be ribald and deceptive from such a religious family---But, considering your sister and her liberated moments, maybe it was probably in the blood.

"Was it how you liked it today?" he simply acknowledged, tone curious over the fact of being caught by your family was thrilling you which is why you've dragged him along the meadow while he was working, asking him for a quick frigging in a deserted, furtive space.

Stephen helped you wear your dress after snapping his breeches back, keeping himself decent. He still wore his white, dirt-filled tank top. Slipping over his suspenders on his shoulders, the latter remained sitting on the grass as you stood up. The expression on his face mixed with a look of a puppy who was blushing under the moon light, his hair utmost unkempt and clothes looking rumpled as if he had a wild night.

"It was everything, Stephen." you softly muttered, flattening the stresses of your dress with the back of your hand, erasing any proof or evidence that you had a nooky with your family's beautiful helper. A sigh left your lips as the ache of thirst was probing your spine, yearning for more than once today.

"---But, can you do me one more favor?"

"Anything, Miss Y/N."

Stephen waited and watched for your response, seeing you ogling at his beauty as he sat silently, catching sight of those suggestive flicker of your eyes under the night.

You've knelt before him, having your height differences obvious from how you tried being eye to eye as he was still taller than you. He'd simply studied your face, changing into an expression that he wouldn't get to reject---not that he ever does because he had no other choice but to follow what you wanted because you were still his patron.

"Can you visit my chambers after dinner?"

He was quick to become uncertain over the service being asked. His thoughts hastily going to what happened in the middle of fornication a while ago; the risk of being exposed by your family for what you both decided to tumble through the afternoon, "But, Miss---"

His protests were cut short when you've distracted him with a delicate kiss to the lips, using it to your advantage as it left seeing him swallowing his apprehension down in the pit of his stomach. Kissing you back with a soft peck that got you sighing when he pulled away to wait for your answer, his complains never being risked to be told. Currently disoriented from the kiss you've given him out of the blue and from the feeling of being confused over what he should feel for letting you have him explicitly.

"My family won't be awake in the middle of the night,"

"Would...you wish to be ravished again?" he understood what you wanted. Another part of his services that he only gives you because you were artful enough to manipulate him into thinking that the idea was fine---that giving you his body and soul was fine.

Stephen had his utmost respect for everyone in your family because he was thankful for them to be employed in the household. Which is why he was even helping you in this part of favor that he surely could have no say about.

"Yes. Can I have you for the night?---I need you tonight,"

He gave a small smile, his fingers reaching for a couple of bluebells from behind. Completely helpless to be under your demands, "If you are in need of it, then I suppose it is fine. Will it help you sleep at night?" the latter slipped the flower behind your ear, his beam so precious with a soul valuable enough to be exploited or influenced by your manipulative ploys.

"Yes---Yes, it does. It'll keep me in deep slumber rather than sleeping like I never have slept at all,"

"---Then you can have me again if you want to---all night if you wish so,"

You've let him tuck the flower, appreciating how handsome and charming he sweetly smiled when you've taken his fingers and kissed every pad of it.

"Thank you, Stephen. You're amazing,"

"Anything for you, Miss."

There will be no place for Cassandra or any other women in his mind. You were determined to swarm his thoughts with only you---where he would worship no other woman nor let him have the desire to feel pleasure over others. From the moment he came into your lives, you've already marked him as your person when you were younger; having this toxic affection for him from the moment you've seen his sweet, seraph face. His personality and characteristics being adding more to your fixation when he was so kind to be gullible---fastening him in a physical-venereal connection that would aid to your benefit.

Stephen Colley was only yours and a puppy---your puppy that you would gladly take care of forever even if it means to be the bad guy in the house.

So, what’s cooking? LMAO. Leave feedbacks to give me power to write the second part. HA!

General taglist for Henry and his characters: @agniavateira​, @iloveyouyen​, @rahdaleigh​, @silverkitten547​, @henrythickcavill​, @kaatelyyynn​

[miraculousandbts]

BTS | AMAs

P.S. The story is in y/n's perspective. Just because I wanted to.

Summary: You get your first big nomination, but you just had to stumble into a very handsome stranger.

Pairing: OT7 X Reader (Platonic)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: Reader’s train of thought goes crazy every once in a while. I feel like this should be a warning.

I was hugging my manager and jumping in circles with her, as a way of expressing my happiness. Ashley was not only my manager, but also one of my closest friends, always supporting me and believing in me since the start. Both of us were ecstatic with the news, and this was our way of showing it. Aside from jumping, we both were also screaming very loudly. I had never been so thankful for having a house near the forest area without neighbours.

Oh, wait! I never introduced myself; how rude of me. (Yes, I was thinking about the Thea Stilton books...) I'm y/n, a singer and songwriter. I live in LA. Me and Ash were just watching the American Music Awards nominations, and we just couldn't control our excitement when they took my name. This was my first nomination for an award. It wouldn't be that big of a deal for an experienced artist or someone who has been in the industry for long, but I'm still a rookie, debuting only two years ago.

Me and Ashley finally calmed down when a very startled guard came in and told us that we screamed so loud that he saw bats fly away from deep inside the forest. We sheepishly apologised, and decided to go to sleep. I had been recording a song the whole day, while she had been busy with manager duties, so we both were exhausted. I had actually known her for the last four years, and she often stayed over. So often, in fact, that my guest room had become 'Ashley's Room' very quickly.

After bidding each other happy good nights, we both went to bed in our respective rooms, falling asleep speedily.

*****

Taylor was applying my makeup, while I sat in the stiff makeup chair. This had been going on for the past hour, despite me telling her that I wanted light makeup and a simple dress. Instead, she and my stylist Ben decided to go against my wishes for once. Ben had prepared an extravagant dress too fancy even for a royal ball, and I was thankful it wasn't pink or blue or yellow; I absolutely did not want to look like a princess, that just wouldn't be me. Taylor kept on applying a little too much makeup on my face for my liking. She was very talented, so at least I was sure I wouldn't look bad.

Right now, she was working on my eye makeup, expertly putting on eyeliner and...something. I'm not good with this stuff. Taylor's assistant, whose name I always forgot, was painting my nails. I looked at her working. She was a pro at this. She smoothly glided the brush over my nails, effortlessly painting them purple, and then decorating them. She used as less materials as possible, knowing I hated it when even my nails felt heavy; my face was enough.

After two more hours of torture, I was finally ready. I looked breathtaking, but if I had an option, I would still go with something lighter. After another hour of sitting in the limo, we were finally there.

I got out, and there were cameras in my face. All I saw were purple blotches, because the camera men couldn't use their brains enough to shut off the flash. Or maybe those cameras didn't have an option to shut off the flash.

Anyway, I struck a few poses, blew some kisses, and walked ahead. And then I saw Dan. He was a reporter for such gigs, and I often did short interviews with him. He wasn't like the others; he didn't ask about rumours or made new ones, he didn't ask controversial questions to increase their channel's TRP.

I gave him a grin and walked towards him.

"Hey, Dan."

"Y/n! Looking beautiful as always."

"Oh, you flatter me." I kept a hand on my chest.

"Okay, stop with the over dramatics, girlie." You grinned.

He motioned his cameraman to start recording. I tuned out the whole introduction, and focused when he asked me a question, the said question being how was I feeling about being here even though it hadn't been long since my debut. "It's all thanks to my fans. I love making music, and I believe that if you do something with true passion, you will be successful. I guess this is destiny's way of showing me that what I'm doing is right. And not gonna lie, it feels like I've been feeling like I'm on a sugar rush since the nominees were announced, because of the adrenaline."

After some more questions and smiles, I finally went in.

I was too focused on not tripping on my own feet because of the long dress, so the first thing I did after entering was bump into someone. Great! I wasn't even surprised anymore, knowing how I was. "I am so sorry!" I looked up with wide eyes, only to meet kind brown ones. It took me a second to register that he wasn't alone, six other men behind him. They seemed familiar. I could tell they were from east Asia. I glanced at all of them, and then looked at him, apologising again.

"It is okay." He had a cute accent to his English, and I internally smiled, not only because of his accent, but also because he wasn't mad. I must've smiled in relief, because he looked amused. Now that I was looking at him properly, he was handsome, with a capital H. Little round face, pretty eyes, cute boop-able nose. And then he smiled. And then I died. It was the cutest smile I had ever seen!

Thankfully, I wasn't the kind of gal who would stand there checking him out. All of this took me a second, and I excused myself after thanking him.

*****

"Oh, hey!" I heard a smooth deep voice as soon as I sat down. I looked to my side and found one of the friends of the man I had bumped into earlier. I was right, my brain didn't forget. I smiled a small smile. "Hey."

Extending my hand towards him the old fashioned way, introduced myself. "Y/n."

He shook my hand, seemingly unfazed by my apparent childish behaviour. "Kim Namjoon, more commonly known as RM."

That's when it clicked. RM. K-Pop. BTS. My eyes must've widened; I was always terrible at hiding my emotions. "Everything okay?" He brought me out of my stupor. "Uh, yeah. Just, when I stumbled into one of you guys before, you all seemed familiar, I just couldn't place your faces anywhere." I replied honestly. "Oh." He simply leaned back into his chair and nodded.

"So, in which category are you nominated?" He continued.

"Top social artist. You?"

"Same. It'll be a four year streak for us if we win again."

"Ooh, really. Well then, I hope you win."

"Don't you want to win?"

"Coming here already feels like a dream. I don't think I can handle the adrenaline if I do win."

"So basically you want us to win for completely selfish purposes, huh?"

You both laughed at that remark, and continued making small talk for a while. Then he said he had to use the washroom. I hummed in his direction, and as soon as he got up, I saw the guy I had ran into in the chair next to his.

He had noticed Namjoon getting up too, so he was looking on my direction. He grinned at me, and sat in Namjoon's chair. "Hello."

"Hey."

"I am sorry. My English is not that good. Only Namjoon speaks English." He sheepishly rubbed his neck. "Why are you apologising for that?" I was genuinely curious. It was okay to not know perfect English. Even though I was a native English speaker, I still made mistakes. Everyone did. And the said language wasn't even his first language. "At the entrance, I wanted to talk."

"Oh. Well, You should have, I don't judge because of stuff like this." He smiled at that. "I will introduce you to them." He gestured to his band mates who were very engrossed in the show. Before he could do that, I interrupted him. "Hey, sorry. I haven't been in the industry for long, and I've only ever heard your guys' name, so...I only know RM and V? Is that right? So, yeah, I don't know your name."

I cursed at myself internally. Way, to go y/n! So damn awkward. He must've sensed my hesitation, because all he did was offer me his hand. Ooh, the old fashioned way. Good to know I wasn't the only one.

"Suga."

"Y/n." I shook his hand. Namjoon came back at that moment and him and Suga said something to each other in Korean. Wait, Suga? That does not sound right. Oh, right! It must be his stage name.

And then I facepalmed. Literally. I didn't think before my hand met my forehead. I must've made a pretty loud smack, because both of them were now looking at me like I was some weirdo. I sighed and slowly hid my face in my hands. "These kind of things always happen to me..." I mumbled.

I looked up when I heard them chuckling. I pouted, but I knew they could see the relief on my face that they didn't think of me like I was demented. "Don't worry, we've been living with these guys for the past eight years, these kind of things don't faze us anymore." Namjoon gestured to the other guys, who were still oblivious to their surroundings, absorbed in the performances.

I let out a breathy chuckle at the fact that they were so openly dissing their own friends. Namjoon, by now, was seated in the chair in which Suga was previously sitting in.

"So, I refuse to believe that Suga is your real name. And I would rather be literal friends with you guys, rather than two artists who just know each other."

"Yoongi. Min Yoongi." The way he said it reminded me of how Geronimo Stilton introduced himself. 'Why my brain has to go down completely random memory lanes is beyond me...and why am I thinking about a kid's book series?'

Within the next hour, I had been introduced to the other guys, and all of us were conversing about anything and everything. Seokjin was very happy that I was loving his dad jokes, Hoseok was a little too excited about my proposal of shooting a dance cover on one of mine or their songs, Jimin, Taehyung and me got along very well, as we were all the same age, and Jungkook had offered to teach me boxing, after I expressed my wish to learn it.

All in all, I was getting along very well with them. They were fun to be with, and it was absolutely adorable how they sometimes got flustered over their mistakes while talking. After the fun night ended, I congratulated them on their win, and went home, completely exhausted.

*****

"Noona!" Jungkook was the first to notice me. With wide eyes and a happy grin, he came to hug me. I had decided to surprise the boys by coming to Korea. Right now, I was standing in their dance studio. Even after four years, we were still going strong. It felt like now I had four elder brothers, two twins, and a kid. '...that was a terrible reference...god, please tell me what is wrong with me.'

Soon, all the boys came to hug me, though I tried running away to avoid their sweaty hugs, but Jungkook held me at one place, while I tried to squirm away. I should've just waited in their dorm.

"Kookie!" All I got in reply was a mischievous giggle. He really was a baby. Later that day, a collaboration between us was confirmed, and I couldn't have been happier.

Geronimo Stilton and Thea Stilton might be kids’ books, but they’re still the best!! Change my mind, I dare you.

[onechicagorpf]

Equal Justice Under Law

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Prosecutor)

Requested? Yes -  Are you still accepting requests? If you are can you do one where the reader is a prosecutor and working a case alongside intelligence. She gets in trouble and jay is the one to save her?

Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse and murder. Swearing, the usual cuss words.

A/N: Okay so this is HELLA long. I really meant for all my requests to be blurbs (i.e. short fics) so please note that future requests will probably be much shorter than this! I just got carried away on this one! 😅

Also I realise the anon asked for the reader to be working alongside Intelligence, but in mine she’s kinda taking over after the police case is done, which is what happens in the episodes of Chicago Justice most of the time so that’s what I had it my head - hope y’all still like it! I also tried to switch it up this time and write in past tense, which I realise is sooo not my thing because I kept instinctively writing stuff in present tense and then having to go back and change it lol Let me know if you have a preference one way or another because I’m very curious as to how people feel about this! 

Up next? 3 more  Jay x Reader requests to fill!

PS: Send me asks/messages/leave a note if you liked this and want to see more!

You sighed, dropping your face in your hands. Some days, you wished you hadn’t taken up the job as the Cook County Assistant State's Attorney. The late nights and high stress situations sucked, but more than that your job had a way of bringing to light the worst things about humanity.

Looking down at your desk, you ran your fingers across the scattered pictures. Amelia Langstrom, age 16. Pamela Park, age 18. Lacey McDonald, age 19. Julia Sanderson, age 15. Maggie Thane, age 16. Every photo of the girls, smiling at the camera, came with another one. This other photo wasn’t as well-lit, as happy, as pretty. It was an emotionless, clinical photo taken of their naked bodies, covered with injuries and bruises and cuts, surrounded by leaves or trash depending on where they were dumped.

It was an awful, awful thing. 5 young girls, all missing for over a week before their bodies were found. All with signs of sexual assault, yet no DNA left behind to trace back to the killer. All of this, by itself, would be enough to turn your stomach over. Which it did, but above that, watching your boyfriend come home every night with his head down, shoulders sagging, looking completely distressed as he and his team were no closer to finding the perpetrator of these crimes…it was terrible.

“You guys will get him. I know you will, Jay.” You said, brushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes as the two of you laid in bed together. Your boyfriend’s green eyes, usually bright and full of life, were dark and distant in a way you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“How many more girls does he have to kill before we find him?” Jay whispered, not even looking at you, as his frown - one that seemed to have made itself at home in his forehead over the last two weeks - deepened.

It was a week later when Anna Valdez, your second chair, knocked on your door. Her face was dark, and her lips were tight.

“Another girl?” You asked, your voice cracking.

Anna shook her head. “Intelligence got the guy.” She replied, still looking troubled.

You frowned, tilting your head at her. She paused, crossing her arms across her chest, trying to shrink herself. Like as if she didn’t want to say the next words. You stood up, now beginning to fear what was coming.

“What is it?”

Anna swallowed. “They’re saying he confessed.”

***

“Jay - ”

“You don’t believe me?! Seriously?!” Jay’s eyes were wide with outrage on the other side of your desk.

“It’s not about whether I believe you! It’s about - ” You lowered your voice, remembering that there were many, many people who were working right outside your office. “ - it’s about the fact that Voight is saying this guy confessed. Hank Voight. He’s not exactly a shrinking violet. And all this on top of the fact that - ”

Jay opened his mouth to cut in, but you silenced him with a raised hand and bulldozed onward.

“ - On top of the fact that there just so happened to be no one else in the room with Voight when Dylan Rhodes confessed? Hmm? And it happened in a - in a cage that’s in basement of your district? No cameras, no audio, no video?” You glared at Jay, barely hiding the seething rage that was boiling under your skin. You leaned across the desk, shoulders tight, voice now raised without a care about what anyone outside was going to hear. “Not to mention he’s got cuts and bruises all over his face from ‘resisting arrest’ even though he’s a 20 year old who’s maybe 120 pounds soaking wet and there were seven of you cops, all armed with guns when you went to arrest him!” You yelled, flinging several of Dylan Rhodes’ mugshots across the table, some of them flying all the way over to hit Jay’s body and land at his feet.

There was nothing in the air but the soft whirring of the ceiling fan, and the squeaking of wheels as you dropped back into your chair, exhausted.

Jay called your name, his voice different now - softer and sweeter. You tried not to look at him, tried to let him know just how angry you were…but you weren’t angry at him. Not really. You were angry at the man he worked for. When your eyes connected back with Jay’s, you could see that he knew that. He placed his palms on your desk and leaned towards you.

“You know that I have issues with Hank sometimes, with the way he does things. You know that. But Y/N, you gotta believe me on this one. I looked in that kid’s eyes. I know he did this.” Jay whispered, and you ducked your head, letting your vision graze over the one remaining photo of Dylan Rhodes on your desk.

You just sighed. Looking back up at him, you shook your head.

“It’s not about him, Jay. I know he did it too, I can feel it. But if I’m putting him away, it needs to happen the right way.” You offered, your voice almost didactic.

Jay’s jaw clenched. “Needs to happen the right way, or not at all?” He straightened, pulling away from you. The look he was giving you was one that you could only describe as fervent disapproval. Like he hated what he was seeing in you.

You decided you were done with the argument. Leveling Jay with a cold, emotionless stare, you spoke.

“Yeah. Because there’s some of us who still believe in the law. Who choose to serve and protect in the right way.”

The words spilled out of your mouth so matter-of-factly that they became so harsh. Jay was speechless, and in the beat of silence that followed, you regretted your words.

Your door opened and you jumped, too absorbed in your tête-à-tête with Jay to even give notice to the outside world. Anna looked over you and Jay - who was staring at his feet, jaw tight - with concern in her eyes.

“What is it?” You asked Anna for the second time in a day, just as terrified as the first time.

“Defense counsel just filed a motion to suppress the confession.”

***

“Mr Howard, if you’re ready we can begin - ”

“Sorry to interrupt, your honour, but it won’t be necessary.” You announced, standing up in the courtroom. Everyone’s eyes were on you, even the court stenographer’s.

The judge raised his eyebrows.

“The People will not object to Mr Howard’s motion to suppress the defendant’s confession.” You said, and a flurry of excitement broke out in the gallery - reporters shouting questions, members of the public yelling, camera flashes going off.

“So,” Anna began, facing you as you stopped to grab a cup of water from a dispenser in the hallway. It’d taken about five whole minutes of gavel banging by the judge to settle everyone down, before she dismissed the session. “Your boyfriend and some of his coworkers are at the end of the hallway, and they keep shooting us looks but no one’s coming.”

You tipped the paper cup into your water, swallowing the ice cold water, flinching a little at the tingly sensation it left in your mouth.

“Do you want to go the other way, or do you want to go talk to them? To him?” Anna asked, softly. If anyone else had been saying it, you would’ve snapped at them to mind their own business. But it’s Anna - Anna, who from day one has been by your side, who’s practically made it her mission to be the person you count on.

You shot Anna a gentle smile, squeezing her shoulder. “I’m good. I’ll take the south exit. Meet you back at the office after lunch?” Anna nodded, trying but failing to hide the concern in her eyes.

Side-stepping her, you walked down the hallway, away from where Jay and the rest of Intelligence must be gathered. A part of you hoped, strangely, that he’d come after you, even though you knew that there was no way he wouldn’t be pissed at you. You’d been with him long enough to know how he operated. How he felt everything so intensely, how he was wired through the heart. Jay lived and died by his instincts and his emotions, and there was something to be said about the simplicity of it. The man was a soldier, and maybe in war you didn’t have the time to think about procedure and precedent, about the sharp edges of red tape and the rules and regulations in a bureaucracy. The cosmetic battles didn’t matter to him – he didn’t care what something seemed like, he cared what it was.

But you weren’t Jay. You loved him, but you were not him. You weren’t a soldier - you were a lawyer, and your battle was in the courtroom, not Afghanistan. And in the courtroom, almost just as much as what something was mattered, what it looked like mattered too.

Dylan Rhodes had to be brought to justice, yes. But it had to be done the right way, not by way of coerced or falsified confessions. Equal justice under law was what you swore to uphold, and damn Voight if he thought you couldn’t put Dylan away while doing your job the right way. And damn Jay too, then.

***

“So, how’s the case coming along?” Will Halstead asked, pouring maple syrup over his waffles.

You leaned against the red leather seats in the diner, in an example of truly terrible posture. Shrugging, you answered him: “You know I can’t really talk about that.”

Will scoffed, picking up a fork and knife. “I think you’re allowed to tell me how you’re doing.”

You raised at eyebrow at the doctor, a smile starting to creep onto your face. “But those aren’t the exact words you used, and you actually asked me something completely different - ”

Will threw his hands in the air:‌ “Okay, we get it, you’re a lawyer and I shouldn’t argue with you.” He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, and you laughed, leaning forward to swat at his arm.

“Really, though.” Will said eventually, and you just nodded. “I’m feeling good. I think I’ve got motive, and I think I can get him to snap if I put him on the stand.”

Will smiled wide. “Attagirl.”

As you sipped your coffee, you kept going over your question in your head, trying to find the best way to phrase it. But just like his brother, Will could practically read your mind.

“Jay’s…you know how he is.” Will said, in a gentle tone.

“Stubborn, adamant, refuses to think he’s wrong about anything, ever?” You shot back in a grouchy tone, and Will raised his eyebrows. “Wow, you just said the same thing three ways - you must be pretty pissed!” He commented dryly, and you glared at him. Chuckling, Will waved you off before leaning across the diner table. “Y/N, he knows he shouldn’t have pushed you the way he did. He knows that. And he’s sorry.”

“He can’t come say that to me? Send me a message, come by my office, come home? He’s still gotta crash on your couch?” You shook your head, struggling to contain the hurt in your voice.

Will shot you a sympathetic look. “You know us Halstead boys; it takes a little while before the mea culpa can come out of our mouths.”

You stirred the spoon in your coffee, watching the little bits of foam go round and round and round, before dragging your spoon across in the opposite direction. The foam still swirled around a few times before stopping. Too slow.

“My bed’s been empty for a week, Will. I miss him.”

Will didn’t say anything; the good doctor just slid over a piece of tissue, and that was when you realised you’d started crying.

***

“You’ve got this.” Anna whispered, as the defense attorney took his seat. The judge turned to you and called for you to make your closing argument.

This was usually your favourite part - getting to talk directly to the jury, showing them the facts of your case, walking them through every step of the process with all the detail in the world so that they could get to the conclusion that you knew to be true.

But today was different. You shoved your hands in your pockets to hide that they were shaking. And when you looked over your shoulder at the gallery, you couldn’t see Jay.

He’d never missed any of your closing arguments. Ever.

Until today.

“Ms Y/L/N? Can we begin?” The judge tossed a concerned look your way.

Your eyes landed on Dylan Rhodes, who was smirking at you like he’d won.

Smiling back, you calmly turned to the judge. “Let’s begin.”

Starting from Dylan’s teenage years, where he racked up countless misconduct records in high school for all sorts of problems, you traced the development of this man, this awful human being. You painted a portrait of him as needy, sad, and lonely, and connected that to his need to hurt and attack girls who were otherwise unattainable for him. As you spoke, you could see the jury process your words and go where you were taking them.

Dylan had, by this point, dropped the cocky smirk. Instead, his face was red, his jaw was clenched, and veins were popping in his neck. You knew you had him - you knew it was over.

“Members of the jury - I have just one final request to ask of you. Today, you have the opportunity to see that justice is served to a man who more than deserves it. A man - a boy, who decided that raping and killing girls was the only way he could live with himself, because that was the only way he could have these girls.” You paused, turning to look at Dylan, who was shaking with rage.

“A boy who decided to hurt girls to cover up the fact that he is so weak, and so pathetic.” You punctuated the tense air in the courtroom with words so sharp they felt like the final nail in Dylan Rhodes’ coffin.

There was a moment of bliss, you knew you’d done your job, you knew you’d brought the jury over, you knew you’d succeeded - but just as quickly as things came together, it all came crashing down.

It happened so quickly - Dylan roared, lunging over the table towards you. Everyone started screaming, and you froze in shock and in fear.

The bailiff intercepted Dylan on his way over to you and tackled him to the ground. It all seemed settled for a second, but they kept struggling on the ground, and all you saw was Dylan’s hands reaching around the bailiff’s and - and his fingers wrapping around - oh god - 

“Gun!” Anna yelled, and the release of that one syllable was followed immediately by a gunshot. And then another.

***

“You gonna talk to Y/N? She’s closing the Rhodes case today, you know?” Hailey Upton asked, lifting her feet up to place them on the dashboard of the GMC Sierra.

Jay shrugged, fiddling with the radio in his hand.

“This is the part where you use your words.” Hailey remarked in a slightly sarcastic tone, smiling and Jay just shot her a look. Reaching over, he shoved her feet off the dash petulantly, and Hailey laughed.

Moments later, she turned back, cheek pressing against the headrest of her seat. “Jay.” She said, her tone gentle but still a little pushy. It was what he needed then, and she knew it. The last few days had been tough on him - he hadn’t talked to her about it, other than updating her that he was staying over at Will’s, but his entire demeanour was off - he’d been down and depressed.

Jay shrugged again, frowning. “I don’t know what to say. I screwed up, and I know it and she knows it and - I don’t know. I’m starting to think…” Jay ducked his head, eyes scanning his fingers as they traced the outlines of his radio. “…starting to think maybe she can do better than me, you know?” When he finished, his voice was much lower, much softer than it was when he began.

“Oh, she can definitely do better than you.” Hailey grinned, her dimples showing and Jay just reached across, punching her shoulder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Hailey chuckles, before turning to face her partner again.

“Seriously though, I’ve seen the way she looks at you - that girl is one hundred percent in love with you.”

Jay’s heart felt full hearing that, and he knew it to be true, too.

“So get your shit together, stop sleeping on your brother’s couch, go back to her and apologise for being an idiot.” Hailey advised. Before Jay could say anything, his radio went off.

“10-1, 10-1, shots fired at the Third Municipal District, hall 5! Dispatch, get Intelligence on the scene now!”

“Isn’t that where - ” Hailey started to ask, frowning. She didn’t have to finish her question, because she got her answer when Jay, who suddenly went as pale as a ghost, turned on the lights and sirens and floored it.

***

“Dylan…just - think about this, okay?”

Your hands were out in front of you, shaking.

Dylan Rhodes was about 10 feet from you, with a gun in his hand. The gallery had cleared out and the people on the jury had managed to escape to their deliberation room, separated from the courtroom with a thick wooden door. The only people who were left with you and Dylan were the judge, Anna and Mr Howard.

Your eyes flickered down to where the bailiff laid in a pool of his own blood. Dylan had fired two shots straight through the bailiff’s chest. You didn’t need to be trained in medicine like your boyfriend’s brother to know that the bailiff was dead.

You’d said hi to him once, in an elevator. He’d smiled back, and asked you how your day was.

You can’t remember what you told him.

“You’re scared now, aren’t you?” Dylan asked, and you snapped back to him. He had a deranged smile on his face.

“Dylan, please, it doesn’t have to be like this - ” You started speaking, but the judge - Judge Kinnaman - cut you off.

“Son, I swear if you don’t drop that gun now, you will never see the light of day. I will personally ensure that.” Judge Kinnaman’s voice resounded in the empty courtroom with authority. Dylan turned to him, gun following his line of sight.

“Fuck you.” Dylan punctuated his words with a squeeze of the trigger. Anna screamed, and you heard a loud thump. When you turned over your shoulder, you couldn’t see Judge Kinnaman at his seat behind the counter anymore - all you saw was blood splatter on his chair and the wood behind him.

The numbness you’d felt until this point suddenly gave way to waves upon waves of fear. It felt like a chill going down your spine - your body was cold, your mind was racing, and you were absolutely terrified.

“Dylan - Dylan, listen to me.” Jon Howard, the defense attorney, spoke softly from the defense table. “Just - just put the gun down, okay?”

Dylan’s eyes practically went red with rage. “You - you fucking…you’re useless, you’re pathetic, you know that?” Dylan swings back around, yelling at you and Anna. “He asked me to make a deal! A deal! What kind of a shitty lawyer gives up before he even tries to win, huh?!” He yelled at Jon, spit flying out of his mouth. Jon flinched, leaning back as Dylan moved closer to him.

Suddenly, a voice on loudspeaker boomed from outside the closed doors of the courtroom.

“Dylan Rhodes! This is Jay Halstead of the Chicago Police Department. We have the courtroom surrounded!”

Your knees almost buckled as you heard Jay’s voice. Relief flooded your veins, but you were still scared as you watched Dylan suddenly turn around, eyes wide.

“We do not want you or anyone in there to get hurt, okay? Just let the people in there come out, and I swear I will help you.” Jay finished, and Dylan just grabbed his head in his hands.

“No, no, no, no!” Dylan whispered to himself, tears springing out of his eyes. You turned to Anna, both of you equally terrified. Suddenly, Dylan raised his head, almost like a lion that had suddenly spotted a gazelle over the lines of grass.

Dylan surged towards you. Screaming, you flattened yourself against the witness stand, but it was to no avail - Dylan’s left hand grabbed your throat, and he pulled you to him, turning you so that you were in front of him, his left forearm like a bar going across your neck. You felt the cool metal of the gun against your temple, and you gasped.

“I have a hostage! I’m coming out, and I want everyone to stand back!” Dylan barked, before walking you to the door. You were shaking against him, tears streaming down your face at this point. The pressure of the gun against your head seemed to be drilling into you. As you reached the door, and Dylan instructed you to open it, all you could think about was that at least you’d get to see Jay before you died today.

The door opened with a loud creak, and you were stunned to see so many fully uniformed police officers with assault rifles standing right outside. Per Dylan’s instructions, they were all standing back, but still it was absolutely terrifying seeing all those guns pointed at you.

Your eyes immediately found Jay, who had his head tilted, looking down the sight on his rifle but the moment Dylan had brought you out, he picked his head up. His mouth was open slightly, his eyes were wide and wet, and he looked to be completely distraught.

Seeing him finally after days apart…it made every argument you’d ever had feel so inconsequential. You were so full of love for him and the only thing you wanted to do was run, run to him and wrap your arms around him. Unable to do any of that, you just mouthed “I love you” as you tried to hold back sobs.

“I want a car, and - and I want a - a jet fueled at O’Hare!” Dylan shouted.

Jay just shook his head. “You need to let her go first, alright?”

Dylan tightened his hold on you. “I’m not a fucking idiot!”

“We know that, okay?” Hailey spoke up, from a few feet to the right of Jay. “We don’t think you’re an idiot. We just want to make sure you don’t do anything you don’t want to do.” She said, putting her rifle down. Raising her hands, she took a couple of steps towards Dylan, who at this point had completely turned to face her.

“No - no, I don’t want you to move! Just - just stay where you are!” Dylan snapped, his voice raging. Your heart was beating so loudly that you could almost hear it in your ears. Closing your eyes, you just prayed silently.

“I know you don’t want to hurt her. So let’s just make sure - ” Hailey spoke gently, but Dylan cut her off, laughing sharply.

“You stupid bitch! You’re all stupid bitches! Damn right I want to hurt her! This bitch - ” Dylan shouted, pulling in his forearm, the immense pressure against your neck strangling you, “ - called me pathetic! I’m gonna show her how fucking pathetic she is when I get her somewhere alone and I - ”

A loud bang goes off, and you jumped. Your eyes flew open just in time to feel Dylan sag against you, and you instinctively leaned out of the way so that he fell to the ground. 

Arms wrapped around you, and your first reaction was to flinch, to scream, to turn with eyes wide, trying to claw away from whoever it is. But then you heard his voice.

“Baby! Baby - it’s me, it’s Jay!” Your boyfriend’s eyes were wide and teary. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply, and he looked like he was in pain.

Everything clicked in your head.

“Jay,” You moaned, shaking fingers clutching his vest as you engulfed yourself in him. Jay’s arms wrapped around you tightly and you soaked in his scent, his warmth, his safety. Sobbing into his neck, you refused to let go, still not really believing this to be real. Jay didn’t say anything for a while and you weren’t sure why. But then you heard him crying into your hair, and you pulled back to see him. His eyes were wet, pooling with tears, and you immediately brought your hands up to hold his face. Jay leaned down as you got on your tip toes and you kissed, wet and soft and scared. Jay’s hands cradled your face, and when the two of you eventually split to breathe, you just looked up at him, speechless, shaking your head.

“I’m so sorry,” Jay whimpered.

“It’s okay. We’re okay. Just - just come home, please,” You begged, running your thumb over his jaw.

“Of course. Of course. I’m never leaving you like that again, okay? No matter what. Y/N, I love you so much. When he came out with you - I - I almost died right where I stood.” Jay told you as his face contorted into something painful. You pressed your lips to his again, quick and chaste. Pulling back, you smiled up at him.

“I love you too, Jay.”

The rest of the day was a mess - the cops moved Dylan’s body, as well as the bailiff’s and Judge Kinnaman’s, while paramedics cleared you medically. You flung yourself at Anna when they brought her out, swearing to her that you were okay and asking repeatedly if she was fine. The two of you held on to each other, crying, as Jay kept rubbing your back. In fact, he never left your side, not even for a second. After you were done giving your statement, Jay took you home, and the two of you got undressed and sat in a warm bath together for a while. You kept thinking at times that you were fine, but then you’d remember the feeling of the gun against your head, or the way the bailiff slumped over, and you started crying again. Jay brought his arms around you, pulling you to his chest and peppering your face with kisses as he soothed you.

At night, you curled into each other. The two of you drifted asleep, in the safety and warmth of your embrace.

*** Please leave a comment/like/reblog!

[sweetest-honeybee]

Wels and Hels Become Smol

This s what I’m counting as a ‘First Chapter’ but let me know what you think! I’ll write more if y’all like it :D

Summary: Tired of his evil clone, Wels asks Beef to make a new machine to pull Hels out of history. Though....It doesn’t really work that way. Some malfunctions cause a bit of de-aging.

TW: Smoke, sparks, the kinda stuff in terrible machinery. Also brief blood mention but overall not a very triggering chapter.

Characters: Welsknight, Helsknight, VintageBeef, Xisuma

Enjoy!

—————————

It was inevitable. At some point, Wels was going to go back up to Beef asking if by any chance he could get rid of Hels. And at some point, Beef was going to comply and create a whole new machine to test out on the knights. And at some point, Wels was going to drag Hels out of his dimension to use the machine and Hels was going to dread losing his body that he only just got a couple weeks beforehand.

So, that’s where they were now. Underground in Beef’s testing room while Wels discussed the instructions with Beef and how the machine worked, which it probably wouldn’t. Hels on the other hand just sulked against the wall with his arms crossed. He had no sword, no armor, a wrapped arrow wound on his arm from having to be forced down there after being held at bow point.

Beef really wasn’t all too excited if he were being honest. Mostly since he didn’t have a lot of faith in the machine working but surely if he reversed some settings here and there, Hels would disappear and the Hermitcraft server would have one less evil doppelgänger to worry about. Though, his cloning machine was technically successful and Hels really hadn’t done any harm since he just stayed in his dimension. There wasn’t really a need for this.

But, either way, it came down to Wels, who made it very clear that he held such a distaste for his evil counterpart. That being said, Beef instructed both knights to step inside the machine at the same time holding a clock. Really, he intended for it to work like a time machine but without Wels going back in time. Essentially, if it was going to work, he would be able to pick and choose what did and didn’t happen on the day Hels was created and thus Hels would disappear and the whole thing would be forgotten.

Reluctantly, Hels shuffled inside the glass tube connecting from the ceiling to the floor with Wels and snatched the clock from the patiently waiting Beef outside of it. Weld rolled his eyes but who was he to judge. He certainly didn’t want to be erased from history more than Hels did but it had to be done if the evil hermit had ill intentions for their lovely server.

“And you’re really sure you wanna go through with this?” the butcher clarified before he handed Wels his clock. A bit of guilt emerged with what he was about to do, but again, it was Wels’s decision.

Wels hardly hesitated with his answer. “Yes, I do. If Evil Xisuma can escape banning then I’m not risking anything.” The knight eyed his counterpart as he said it, only earning a hard glare in return.

“You were better off just killing me,” Hels replied with a sneer. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Beef shrugged, handing Wels his clock. He took a last glance at Hels who made an obvious commitment to avoiding eye contact. Before the butcher could really dwell on it further, he shut the iron door on the machine and moved behind a newly mined out area in the back of the room. Thick layers of glass separated it from the machine for the sake of his own safety and redstone connected to a leaver trailed from the machine through a small hole by his feet.

“Alright, you guys ready? And again, Wels, you’re absolutely positively 100% sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” both knights dragged.

Beef sighed. “Okay, here we go then.”

The butcher took the lever and flipped it, almost kind of surprised that it even turned on. Lights and buttons on the wall flashed periodically, the smooth whirring noise lasted more than five seconds, and neither of the knights expressed any unusual discomfort from what he could see. Good signs, that meant that he could open the control panel and begin removing Hels.

Though, he must’ve spoken too soon when the whirring began becoming choppy, sparks replacing its paused seconds. Where the sparks came from, bits of smoke emerged and the moment the other two saw it, they, even Hels, sent Beef very worried expressions.

The malfunctions continued when various beeping voiced from the machine and the clouds of smoke grew larger.

“Ohh….that cannot be a good sign,” Beef muttered, pulling his hands to his hair. Admittedly, he should’ve just shut off the machine but he was too busy freaking out.

“Uh, Beef?” Wels began, his voice sounding muddled from the loud sounds in the room. Yet, Beef could hear him. The knight pointed at his clock. “I don’t wanna assume but I don’t think this was supposed to happen!”

That earned a smack upside head from Hels.

“Just give it a second I think it’ll figure itself out!” Beef decided, still ignoring the lever beside him.

“Oh for the love of- I’m breaking out!” Hels announced. Before his fist even made it to the glass, every light in the room shut off with a loud crack, the machine shutting down with it and the sound of shattering glass.

Startled, the butcher covered his face, only peeking through his fingers when all he heard was silence. No snarky comment from Hels, no attempt at an uplifting comment from Wels. He pulled his hands from his face, trying to look through the thick layers of smoke in the room on the other side of the glass. He couldn’t see the figures of either knight and at that moment, he began panicking, wondering if he had just erased both of them from history all together.

Quickly, he ran into the clouded room, glass crunching under his feet, muttering curses along the way. The entire tube was no longer there, just in shards on the floor. He waited for a second, watching the smoke thin a little more before continuing. Thankfully, some light from the doorway emerged, casting yellow rays into the room. Beef squinted into the used-to-be machine with the new source of light, seeing two much much smaller figures, not hardly a block and a half tall. One stood, wobbling for a second, then falling into the glass from tripping on a wad of something beneath its feet.

And at that moment, Beef heard a child crying.

Oh, oh no. Oh no, no, no, no.

He took off his apron, using it to fan away the smoke. He crouched down near the little figure, letting the light do its work for him. The crying continued, then another child’s cry began and now both of them were crying. As the smoke cleared, two of the smallest toddlers he’d ever seen looked right at him. Sets of the biggest, bluest and reddest, tearful eyes rested on him. The blue eyed toddler notably was covered in scratches from his fall onto the ground.

“Oh my….Wels?” He looked at the red eyed toddler. “Hels?”

For some reason, that only made the blue eyed one, which he’s now assuming is Wels, cry again. Probably since Beef was looking on the brink of a lot of external panic. Hels followed suit, sniffling and then choking on a high pitched sob. The butcher rushed to soothe the both of them, picking them up and moving them upstairs- noting how they were too small for their adult clothes and were now naked. They coughed and choked on the leftover smoke through their tears and that really just made him feel worse.

Finally upstairs, he opted to put the two in the animal farm room. He sat them down on the sandstone and it took a few seconds to get them to release their hands from his shirt. Hels complied, calming down to sniffles and moans. Wels on the other hand didn’t let go. The little knight simply tucked his face into Beef’s chest sadly.

“Wels, buddy, you need to let go so I can get the blood off of you, okay?” Wels moved his head, tilting it up at him. Who was he kidding, Beef’s heart melted at the little guy. Though, the snot running down his mouth was a bit of a pain since he now had it all over his shirt.

“Okay,” the toddler mumbled. Beef let out a sigh of relief, thank god he knew words. When did children even start speaking, he was unsure, but Wels understood him and that was all that mattered.

With that, he sat him on the floor next to his twin, Beef moving to grab some wool from the sheep for makeshift bandages. When he turned back from his crafting table, he found the knights staring at the pigs. Despite their still shared worry and obvious fear, they occasionally giggled at the pigs who squealed and oinked at them.

“That a piggy?” Beef tested. Just to see what they knew.

“Piggy,” the two said back to him. “Piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy, piggy!” At the word, they erupted into a fit of snorts and laughs, momentarily forgetting their previous moods. That was until Beef approached Wels with a bucket of water and the wool cloths.

“Be brave for me, okay? You’re a tough knight,” he ruffled the child’s hair and was pleased when he stuck out his legs to him. “Thanks, bud, won’t be more than a minute.”

With a patience he didn’t know a toddler could have, considering Wels didn’t hardly squirm away from his grip, he finished in no more than a couple minutes. He washed off the little knight’s knees while the other decided he was bored and went to stick his hands up in the glass pig pen. The butcher’s heart warmed at the sound of the little giggles from it when the pigs didn’t hesitate to lick his hand. Hels pulled his hand back with a squeal, grabbing his counterpart’s attention.

Wels pointed at the pigs, looking at Beef. “Piggy?”

“Sure,” Beef exhaled with a shrug. He left the knight to have his fun with his twin, and the pigs. Now, he needed to make them some clothes. Maybe armor? The thought of toddler sized knight’s armor made him chuckle to himself.

He went to the sheep, grabbing red and blue eyes from the chest. With haste, he sheered the newly died sheep of both colors and set off to the crafting table on the other side of the room while the boys moved to the cows. Sewing wasn’t hard, that was a skill he needed in survival. He knew how to make shirts so it was just like making tiny versions of those shirts and with leg holes and buttons. Easy onesies for the twins.

Momentarily, he was distracted by the two mimicking the mooing coming from the cows. He already knew that would get annoying very quickly.

Beef had a thought while he was making the onesies. We’re they potty trained? Did he need to make diapers as well? How on earth do you handle a toddler? Shaking his head, he opted to make some cloth diapers for the both of them, not wanting to be wrong if he guessed they were already potty trained. The last thing he needed was an accident.

Finishing the onesies and diapers, he whistled at the boys, catching their attention. He held up the onesies and they dramatically awed at his craftsmanship. Beef couldn’t help but to feel a bit of pride at that.

Eagerly, they stumbled up to him to put on their new clothes. One at a time, he clipped the diapers on the, with a safety pin. Then, he slid the onesies on the two and marveled at how they giggled at each other happily, poking at each other’s outfits. Gosh, it was so darn cute.

Now, the real question came to mind. What on earth does he do with them? He’s nowhere near fit for fatherhood at the moment and he needed a lot of alone time to fix that machine. He’d have to explain to Xisuma what happened, won’t he. He’s already imagining how that conversation would go. Hey Xisuma, I just turned two of your Hermits into children please help me. That would end in either utter confusion or laughter. Probably both, knowing the admin.

“Alright then,” he began. The knights looked up at him expectantly. “You guys wanna see Xisuma?” They tilted their heads in unison at the question.

“Is Suma?” Wels asked.

“Iggsooma,” Hels added, as if he were correcting his twin.

Beef grinned at their odd little relationship. “Yeah! Xisuma!”

He threw on his elytra from his inventory, dark wings spreading slightly behind his back. Again, the knights awed at him and he couldn’t help but to laugh. The butcher scooped them up into his arms, the two still weighing not nearly as much as he thought they would but working with sandstone was no easy task.

The trio made their way out of his desert village. He moved Hels to sit with Wels on his other arm so that he could fire off his rockets. As soon as he was in the sky, the knights were squealing with delight at the shrinking ground below them. It took no time to reach Xisuma’s jungle, but where the admin was right now, Beef actually had no clue. In chat, he said something about the iron farm so he flew into the landing bay on it.

Letting both toddlers down on the floor, he pulled out his communicator, letting his friend know that there was an urgent meeting they needed to have up there. It took no time for Xisuma to reply with a yes, much to Beef’s relief. Pocketing his comm, he turned to where the knights ran off to. Really, they were quite interested in the assortment of colorful shucker boxes laying on the floor.

Not to much of his surprise, he already heard another set of flapping wings landing on the bay.

“Alright then, what seems to be the- oh my goodness me.” Xisuma paused abruptly at the sight of the toddlers. Who he could only assume was Wels and Hels given Beef’s message. “Why are they children?!”

Ignoring his concern, they ran up to him happily.

“Suma!” the blond yelled.

Xisuma crouched down, meeting their height as best he could. They were just so small, he wouldn’t have ever expected this. They giggled at his silly looking helmet, the white feathers on the sides were certainly a sight to behold. He ducked his head to let them poke and prod as they pleased.

“Beef, what did you do?” the admin asked.

“Ah, long story. Wels created an evil doppelgänger of himself and in attempts to remove him with a new machine I made, I uh….” he gestured at the two. “That happened.”

“O….kay then. Well, what exactly do I do? I can’t really just change their ages through coding.”

Beef’s stomach sank. “You can’t?”

Xisuma chuckled at how Wels sat promptly in his lap, looking up at him with a snort. Hels copied him, sitting next to him. “Hm, no, I don’t believe so. You’ll need to fix that machine of yours.”

“Well, I uh, need alone time for that. I can’t take care of children at the same time.”

Xisuma nodded, wrapping his arms around the toddlers and standing, carrying both of them while they swung their legs. “Yeah, they’re adorable, I’ll admit, but I don’t have a place to keep em’ nor the time to look after them.” He walked over to Beef, plopping them in his arms. The other stumbled, concern spreading across his face.

“Who do I take them to, then?”

The admin tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I believe Cleo used to be a teacher in her older days, I think preschool might’ve been a part of that? If not, ask Stress or, I dunno, Joe? They seem fit for the task.” Finally, he shrugged. “Anyways, I’ll be off then. If there’s any trouble, you know where I am.” He waved, the knights waving back happily.

“Bye bye Suma!” they said. Xisuma laughed, nodding off to them before flying out of the landing bay. Beef in return huffed.

Why did Wels have to go through with such an idea.

[moonstone27ls]

Ducktales finale spoilers

You’ve been warneddddddddd

Warning

Warning you againnnn

Sooo Ducktales will be ending soon my thoughts? Not as sad as when compared to Rise of the TMNT, Venture Bros, Brooklyn 99 (though it had a good run considering), Drunk History, Dark Crystal Age of Resistance. Though there are rumors Darkwing Duck is gonna be rebooted.... uhh maybe excited? I'd say maybe becauseeeee again its on a streaming service... and no for anyone's future question don't have Disney+ and have no intention of getting it why? Cause I'm broke/on a budget and I can't buy every stupid streaming service for the sake of a few shows.

But I'm getting off topic the show in general... sorta sad but sorta not. I'll be honest some eps of Ducktales in the last season didn't fit well with me. Some felt uhh very cliche/or readable, some felt kid dumb (but its a kids show so you're gonna get a few of those more than once), some felt like they were uhh if I had to compare like when you'd watch Adventure Time and you'd be "WTF was that one for". I wouldn't say dark you're just "that one felt random". Sometimes thats not bad but heh depends on the taste.

There are a few things disappointed we didn't get to see one Donald & Della's ACTUAL parents interacting with their children, GRANDCHILDREN. Don't get me wrong their interactions with Scrooge was nice but we barely got one ep with family that WASN'T him. You'd think given what dangerous work they were involved with we'd see a flashback or actual talk of their parents talking to them. Especially with Della being a single mother oO. Kinda feel it slightly unrealistic that they'd just sit and do nothing (and no there's no sign they're dead so they should be around) when their daughter disappeared into space. I mean maybe it'd been nice to see a few eps of past Donald getting advice from his mother Hortense how to raise the triplets. Heck would have like to see Hortense & Matilda's relationship.

Second the triplets father would had been nice oO. Yes he does have a father. All these fan ships but no one actually wondering "hey who's the boys father?".

  Third would had been nice to see more of Violet's family life. I mean whats the point of giving her "dads" if they never have a role beyond background character. Heck would had been nice to see a day of Violet and Lena's life with their fathers. Yes probably to the viewers it probably would had been boring but whatever 8B.

Four uhh I dunno explore space more? Maybe actually see some of Moon's home. I'll be honest that episode of "Moonlander on Earth" ep always bugged me. While I could believe some of the moon aliens wanted to stay on earth. I'm not convinced an entire planet thought Earth was so amazing they'd just stay there forever. People are fickle things, I can believe some wanted to stay like a vacation. But I feel at some point some, like Penny wanted to just go home. And I always found it... disturbing that no one attempted to really listen (no I don't count Webby cause that was written more of an experience lesson than "oh I miss home"). I mean the McDucks have all the money in the world, thats how Scrooge spent almost all his fortune finding Della. I'm just not convinced Scrooge and them thought "Hey we got extra rockets if they wanna go home we'll let them". No it was "oh they'll never get home, lets not bothering asking or giving them those extra resources. I think the show MISSED a good opportunity to let Penny go home (as well as others). And since Fenton or Gyro are often considered so smart they couldn't make a special teleport device JUST for them or ways to keep communicating with the moon. Thus meaning they could have explored space. And while some might argue "yes we needed Penny for the finale" (minor spoiler). She didn't DO anything she and Goldie were mostly used for cameo purposes. Sooo wasted use there.

Hmm anything else....  would have LIKED to seen more eps with Gandra/Fenton but hey if that Darkwing Duck spinoff is a thing maybeeee Gizmoduck will make special appearances and Gandra/Fenton can double date with Morgana & Drake(yes I wanted her to make an appearance I liked her goth look). Uhhh I don't think we ever got a Selene & Della interaction. (So far no eps were really... well friendship stuff. I mean I got a small fraction (if that) with Gods on the Block ep but it was near the literal END)

Also wish we could had more from the old show cameos Kit/Molly, Rescue Rangers, Goofy... pft plus I'll be honest before the show ended would had loved an actual cameo of Goofy, Mickey & Donald just alll together. Pfttt omg I would had loved a Max & Roxanne cameo date/wedding (yes I shipped them).  Haha more interactions would had been fun. And while I enjoyed the Talespin sorta crossover... could had more (and yes sorta ship Kit/Della. heh sorta more of a crackship haha). And lets be honest that Molly cameo was wasted potential. I mean would had been cool to see Baloo & Becky. Though I understand to a degree why we didn't. At least with Baloo.  But ahh well what can you do.

  And same with Daisy and Donald buttttt gonna take some of the finale as something. I'm just gonna say it left enough for my imagination to think "they're having a happily ever after soon". Uhh another minor spoiler with Ludwig revealed not to be dead (which I'm glad)... just disappointed he wasn't in the credits or given more interactions with Scrooge. Yeah I know they weren't BEST friends or anything but I dunno I do associate them as friends.

Anything else... uhhh would had been nice to see more of Boyd and Doofus family moments too. I mean I dunno consideringgggg that life probably was better for Doofus' parents now that they had an ACTUAL loving child. Be nice to have seen more scenes. I mean heck that last ep with Doofus... uhh jumping? I assume it meant Doofus had closure and accepted his fate? So I dunno would had been good to see him and Boyd bond more. Heck I'd like to have seen his parents' telling Gyro in finale (yes minor spoiler) take care of "our" son.

Nowww onto the finale gonna put spoilers soo warning here.... as for the finale it was... good. I'm not gonna say "Oh it was the best everrrrrrrr". Nah it was pretty good given their budget or whatever. Yeah some felt rushed and all those cameos while I appreciate the thought felt wasted potential. I mean I get why budget/timing etc. Just saying you know could had some Goldie/Scrooge moments, more Lena & Violet, Webby friendship stuff. I mean heck when they were all "released" (and judging by that cube system) there was a lot we don't really see where they go or how the Ducktales group got everyone where they originally belonged.

What did I think of Webby's so called surprise... uhh mixed. Bigger picture wise kinda explained that need to be so clingy. To a degree I sorta agree with the split fans I like it and I don't like it. But I get it the writers NEEDED something for shock value cause lets face it they ran everything else. I say a part of me didn't like it cause I was kinda hoping this version would show us Webby's real parents. And I'm not fully convinced that photo was just a fake or some random relatives Beakley took to shut her up. 

I think she sounded genuine when she said "I missed a lot". I admit when the whole "oh she's made from FOWL" was becoming obvious. I thought Beakley was subtly hinting that her daughter made Webby. I dunno could see that happening seeing that this whole ep was hinting at adults who did NOT think of their actions effects (yeap Scrooge, Della's choice to go on that rocket, Bradford's granny traumatizing the dummy), I thought "Ohh sooo she felt neglect and rebelled or fell for the enemy". But anyways yeah I still think Beakley probably DID have a daughter. Where is she? I dunno, thats kinda the whole point. Either she died or like Donald did with Scrooge, broke away from her family. I really believe whatever the reason, her daughter's gone from her life and Beakley deeply regrets she wasn't a more attentive mother. She probably to a degree saw Webby as her second chance to do better by her.

Hmmm lets see anything else.... as dark as it was with what Bradford did... not really shocked. And while he was obviously a villain I think his background did prove a point. But I could be thinking of Dean Venture and Dr Venture's childhood. Not every kid is built or for that matter wants an adventure life. Bradford was a product of his well intentional but neglectful family. Had the triplets or Donald not wanted this life that could had been them. Thankfully it wasn't 8B.

I admit the part with the villians at the end was quiet surprising. Not because they turned him into a bird pft. But because technically they saved Scrooge but heh I get it, chalk it up to either "they don't like to be used" or "Bradford was so terrible he was beneath even their level". Just somewhat made me wish Magica could have found Poe or something (I liked his design and voice actor). 

 And super glad we didn't really lose a lot of villains. I dunno I wanted Phantom Blot & Pepper to escape, fight another day stuff. And I kinda think to a degree thats why we saw that dumbed-down clone of Bradford. He's gone but that clone could get "smarted" up to stir more trouble 8B. Maybe I dunno.

Heh but all in all I enjoyed this finale. Its was wayyyy better than Star and Tangled's finale, no flippin' drama :P. I mean I suppose you could call Donald & Daisy leaving drama? but no not really cause literally none of this bothered me. The credits kinda gave me that nostalgia of how this show got so much attention. So while it was rushed maybe and it had its flaws. All in all it kept up with the heart. Soo I enjoyed the credits a lot good way to say goodbye

(just putting that gif there cause I liked it 8B)

Anything else....KEITH FREAKING DAVID, another reason to give this finale a point best flipping part I’m just sad I have no gif to use XD

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - “Tricked and Treated” (Rated G)

Summary: Aziraphale and Adam bump into an intriguing man and his son while out Trick or Treating. Of course, it is Halloween, and nothing is quite what it seems ... (3415 words)

Notes: This is one of two stories I wrote for A Big Spooky Fan Zine. Be sure to check the rest of the collection for some amazing spooky works from other wonderful fandom creators :)

Read on AO3.

Knock-knock-knock-knock!

“Trick or Treat! Smell my feet! Give me somethin’ good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care. I’VE GOT PURPLE UNDERWEAR!!”

The chorus of tinny voices dissolves into giggles as a multitude of pint-sized monsters, ghouls, and superheroes wait for the door to open. If it doesn’t … they won’t do anything. Not a one of them is older than nine, and their parents are standing a few feet behind them. But the song is tradition, even if they do tweak the lyrics a bit every year.

Last year, the preferred modifier for underwear had been ‘dirty’, and even though that isn’t age-inappropriate, per se, the parents are thrilled the quorum decided upon a color this year instead.

The group falls silent when they hear heavy footsteps approach from the opposite side. The brass knob turns, and the door pulls in. The children know what to expect, but still, they take a tentative step backward. It’s an old house, but a familiar one; that always has carved pumpkins on the patio at Halloween and handmade wreaths on the door at Christmas. A house that generations of children have run up to on October 31sts past and knocked on its door. Those children grew up and bring their children here to visit the same bubbly lady who never seems to age, always has a smile on her face, and a tray of homemade caramel apples wrapped in wax paper at the ready.

The door creaks open.

The children gasp in anticipation.

Then, she is revealed: a red-haired woman in a flowing, floral kaftan beneath a cozy pink peacoat steps out with her gentleman behind her, dressed in olive drab and menacingly pointing, of all things, his right index finger, as if he thinks it will protect him from the beasties gracing their porch. The woman looks at the crowd of masks and made-up faces surrounding her and gasps in mock fear.

“My goodness!” she says, putting a hand to her mouth. “Look at all these frightful goblins and ghouls at my door tonight! I don’t suppose any of you like caramel apples, hmm?”

“I do! I do!” Hands shoot up, eager to be seen. The woman smiles.

“Mr. Shadwell! Put your finger away and bring me that tray!” she scolds, grabbing up apples on their sturdy wooden sticks when they come her way and handing them out one at a time, receiving a grateful and excited, “Thank you!” with each one.

“I do believe everyone’s parent is present,” she says with a glance towards the ring of adults manning her garden gate, “but if they’re not, you let them know that these apples came from Tracy Shadwell’s own kitchen, so they’re safe to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am!” the kids answer obediently. Most everyone in the neighborhood knows Mrs. Shadwell and her famous caramel apples. For those who don’t, she ties a pink tag at the base of each stick with her name and telephone number embossed on it in gold, should anyone want to verify.

And while she hands out her wares, she looks over each child and comments on their costume – the hand-crafted along with the store-bought – with nothing but the highest praise. As the crowd thins, two boys approach, patiently awaiting their turns. Mrs. Shadwell spots the first of the boys and hands him two caramel apples. She knows him - and his chaperone - very well.

“Why, Adam Young!” she coos at the boy dressed in white satin brocade. “What a stunning costume! Another one from your grandfather’s collection?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boy replies proudly. “French Revolution era. I’m a political prisoner, about to get my head chopped off!” He drags a finger across his throat in a slicing motion, tilting his head to one side and sticking out his tongue for greater emphasis. His eyes pop as he remembers the best part. “Look! Here’s my head!” He fishes around in his candy bag and pulls out a childishly executed but morbid prop - a bleeding papier-mache head on a stick. It vaguely resembles Adam, having the same hair color and skin tone, but drenched in fake blood and with X’s over the eyes. “I wanted to slather blood all over my neck, but my grandfather said no.”

“I can understand why!” Tracy chuckles. “That costume must be expensive! It looks quite handsome on you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Shadwell,” Adam says with a dignified bow.

“You’re very welcome.” Her gaze lands on the boy standing beside him. “And you! Another scary vampire!” The corners of her mouth tug down as she struggles for a name. “I can’t seem to recall your name, dear. Would you be so kind as to help an old lady out?”

“I’m Warlock,” the boy says, speaking with a pronounced lisp and spitting his consonants, courtesy of the plastic fangs crowding his mouth.

“Here you go, Warlock.” Mrs. Shadwell hands him two apples as well. It wouldn’t be right to give him only one since he’s seen Adam get two. Besides, thanks to her husband’s help, she has a whole army of apples sitting in her kitchen, waiting to be doled out. “Thank you for stopping by so I could see your costume. Give your parents my fondest regards.”

“Yesh, ma’am,” the boy slurs, trying his best not to spit again. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The boys wave politely as Mrs. Shadwell closes her door. They turn together, stepping down from the porch, eyeing one another’s costume as if the two of them are catwalk rivals.

“That belongsth to your grandpa?” Warlock asks, looking Adam’s shimmery outfit up and down.

“Yup.” Adam holds his head high and gives the boy a spin so he can view it from all sides. “Your costume is cool, too. Did your parents buy it? Or did someone make it for you?”

“It’sth vintage,” Warlock explains, tongue tripping over his teeth. “It wasth my father’s when he wasth a boy.” He holds the ends of his cape out wide, flapping the wings it creates.

“Awesome!”

“That’s right, Warlock,” a tall man says, receiving both children when they reach the wooden gate. “It belonged to your ancient, elderly father.”

The man standing beside him chuckles, reaching a hand out to Adam as the boy walks through.

“Well, despite its interminable old age, it really is a smashing costume, Mr….”

“Crowley,” Warlock’s father supplies, extending a hand in greeting. “Anthony J. Crowley.”

“Aziraphale,” Adam’s grandfather answers, taking Crowley’s hand and shaking it. “Aziraphale Fell. This is my grandson, Adam.”

Crowley nods at the boy who is less concerned with the subject of adults’ names as he is with comparing his haul with that of the boy beside him.

“I believe we’ve lost them!” Aziraphale laughs as Adam and Warlock dive into their sacks.

“Bound to happen,” Crowley concurs. “We’re nowhere near as entertaining as chocolate. At least, I’m not. Not to be rude or anything but aren’t you a little young to be a grandfather?”

Aziraphale grins hard enough to make his cheeks ache. “That’s very kind of you to say, but I am much older than you might think.” He narrows his eyes at the man tousling his son’s black hair - suspicious considering his own hair is red. Flame red. Of course, that could come from a bottle. Not that Aziraphale is judging. It looks rather fetching on him. “Forgive my saying so, but I don’t think I’ve seen you or your son around here before.”

“Is that so strange?” Crowley asks, his grin growing tight, but not terribly.

It seems Aziraphale may not be the first person of the evening to mention it.

“No, not really. But we’re a tiny hamlet. Everyone here knows everyone else.” Aziraphale leans in a companionable inch. “All their secrets, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re not from around here,” Crowley admits with a sheepish grin.

“Gotcha.” Aziraphale winks. “It’s no secret that we’re one of the few neighborhoods around that gives out full-sized candy bars by the handful and real popcorn balls – not that stale, store-bought crud.” Crowley’s lips quirk, in shame it seems, and Aziraphale rushes to elaborate. “Not that we mind visitors!” he says, waving his hands as if to wipe away any doubt. “As long as the children have a pleasant time, that’s all we care about. It’s nice to see some new blood around here.”

Crowley stares at Aziraphale, his face blank for a second. His lower lip quivers. He sputters, then he laughs out loud (harder than necessary, Aziraphale feels).

“What?” Aziraphale asks self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Crowley says, reining in his laughter with a snort that Aziraphale can’t help but find adorable. “It’s just been a while since I’ve heard that term. But to be honest, we’re here strictly to socialize. We don’t eat candy.”

Adam, totally engrossed in his conversation with Warlock, catches that last part. His head snaps up, jaw dropping to the ground, utter disbelief written on his face.

“Don’t eat it?” he moans with regret on his new friend’s behalf. “Why not?”

“I’m on a special diet,” Warlock says, looking down at his pregnant bag of sweets.

“A special diet?” Aziraphale looks from Warlock to his father.

“I adopted Warlock from a hospital overseas,” Crowley explains, distracted momentarily by a new wave of Trick-or-Treaters headed their way. “He has a rare blood-borne illness that they were ill-equipped to handle.”

“But … is he okay now?” Aziraphale gazes at the boy’s face, particularly his large, sleepy eyes, dark circles underneath made all the more prominent by his pale skin. Crowley watches the way Aziraphale looks at his son, examining him with an expression of genuine concern, and smiles.

“There is no cure, but we’re managing it the best we can.” Crowley puts a hand on Warlock’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It helps when you don’t have to worry about trivial things like money. Heartbreaking for those parents in dire straits who don’t have an excess of disposable income. A lot of tough choices to be made when you find yourself in that position.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one?” Aziraphale teases, knocking Crowley playfully on the shoulder.

“It’s old money,” Crowley replies, that sheepish smile from before making a comeback. “I like putting it to good use.”

Aziraphale looks up when Crowley does and meets his eyes – boundless amber eyes that catch the surrounding street lights and flickering Jack-O-Lantern candles in a mesmerizing way, as if with a single blink he could read Aziraphale’s mind.

Or hypnotize him into doing his bidding.

They don’t look human. Snake-ish, more like - slit pupils and all. They can’t be real. They have to be contact lenses. Fake or not, there’s something about them that makes Aziraphale shiver. Crowley notices, grinning devilishly. Aziraphale laughs.

He’s letting the magic of the evening get to him.

Or the magic of this charming man.

From the corner of his eye, Aziraphale catches Adam yawn. He fishes his watch out of his pocket and checks the time.

“Oh my goodness!” he exclaims. “Look at that! When did it get so late?”

“We’re not going home now, are we?” Adam asks, whining the way tired children do while fighting back a yawn.

“I’m afraid so, my dear,” Aziraphale says. “You’re just about dead on your feet, and I can’t carry you all the way back to the house. Besides, I promised your mother and father I’d have you tucked in before they got home.

“We’d better be heading out as well,” Crowley says, wrapping an arm around his son’s thin shoulders and holding him close.

“Do we have to?” Warlock asks, sulking into his father’s embrace.

“I’m afraid so.”

“All right.” Warlock turns to Adam, who yawns again, shaking his head to dislodge the exhaustion from his brain. “It was nice meeting you, Adam.”

“It was nice meeting you, too,” Adam says.

“Do you guys …?” Aziraphale starts, not eager to see this captivating man disappear so quickly. “I know you said you aren’t from around here, but …”

“We’re in Mayfair,” Crowley says, anticipating Aziraphale’s question. “About two hours give or take, as the bat flies.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale casts his eyes down dejectedly. “That’s quite a distance to travel for conversation and candy you can’t eat.”

“We’re also visiting family. Family that we’ve been looking into visiting more often, maybe even moving closer to, so who knows? You could be seeing us around?”

Aziraphale nods because if that question implies what Aziraphale hopes it does, the answer is definitely yes.

“Who knows?” he echoes, hoping Crowley catches on to the fact that he’s flirting. It’s been a while, and he was never very good at it to begin with. “We might end up neighbors.”

“Maybe,” Crowley says, the word a vague promise but a promise nonetheless. It leaves Aziraphale with the feeling that if those plans to move fall through, he may still see Crowley again. “I could take you out for a bite?”

Aziraphale smiles, cheeks flushing red and not from the chill in the autumn air.

“I’ll take you up on that.” Aziraphale reaches into his pocket and pulls out his business card. “You can reach me at this number. I have a bookshop in Soho. I’m there most of the time … even if the sign on the door says closed.”

Crowley takes it, slipping it from between Aziraphale’s fingers and sliding it into his inside breast pocket. “Clever of you, really. Who wants to be bothered by a bunch of busybody customers anyhow?” He smooths down the front of his jacket, patting the pocket keeping Aziraphale’s business card safe.

That subtle touch of his palm to the spot makes Aziraphale tingly inside.

“Here …” Warlock, watching the exchange between the two men, holds out his bag of candy to Adam “… I want you to have this.”

Adam’s eyes grow big as saucers, his face lighting up at the offer of a sack of sweets as big as his own. “No way! Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Warlock says with a sad, one-shoulder shrug. “I wasth gonna hafta throw it out anyway.”

Adam looks up at Aziraphale, eyes pleading. “Can I?”

“I don’t see why not. It would be rude to turn down such a generous gift.”

“Yes, it would,” Adam agrees, reaching for the bag and taking it reverently. “Thank you, Warlock.”

“Don’t make yourself sick eating all that candy in one night,” Crowley says.

“Oh, I won’t!” Adam assures him. “I’m going to share it with my three best friends! Hey! If you come back, I can introduce you!”

“You would do that?” Warlock asks.

“Of course! There’s always room for one more in our group.”

“Now, you see, you must come back,” Aziraphale says when he’d meant to say ‘We’ll see, boys. We’ll see.’ He doesn’t want to appear pushy. He doesn’t regret it an inch, though, when he notices the new look in Crowley’s eyes - the one that says he’s prepared to move heaven and earth to make that happen.

If it’s because of the promise of new friends for Warlock or to see him again, however, remains to be seen.

“I guess we will,” Crowley responds.

“Have a safe evening, Mr. Crowley. Warlock.” Aziraphale raises a hand and waves good-bye, backing away, pulling Adam along with him.

“And you as well, Mr. Fell. Adam.” Crowley waves back, turning down the street with Warlock in tow.

Crowley and Warlock weave through several pods of children racing up to houses and knocking noisily on doors. They walk against the flow of revelers, ending in a dark street with no lamps lit, no decorations on the porches, no Trick-or-Treaters anywhere to be seen.

“Did you have a good time?” Crowley asks.

“Yesh.” Warlock reaches up and spits out the false teeth that had been covering his fangs, glad to be rid of them at long last. “That was a blast! Adam and his granddad are really nice. Don’t you think they’re really nice?” Warlock asks, vibrating with the enthusiasm of … well, an eight-year-old on Halloween.

“Yes,” Crowley agrees, turning one last time, using his supernatural vision to find the man and his grandson walking down the street. Crowley doesn’t believe for a minute that Aziraphale is that boy’s grandfather, but he couldn’t get a read on him … as in he couldn’t read Aziraphale’s mind like he can with other humans. Adam’s neither, which makes the two of them that much more enticing.

Aziraphale looks over his shoulder and bites his lip as if he knows he’s being watched. Crowley eyes the dent his teeth make in his skin, lingering on it and licking his lips. If his heart were still beating in his chest, it would be racing out of control by now. “They were great. With any luck, we’ll be seeing them again.” Crowley puts a hand over the pocket with the business card hidden inside and smiles. “So,” he says, clapping his hands in front of him, “are you ready to give it another try?”

“Yes.” Warlock sounds confident, but he looks ready to puke. “It’s just … I’m not as good at it as you are.”

“It takes practice,” Crowley says, and with a snap of his fingers (which is entirely unnecessary - he does it solely for dramatic effect), he changes - shrinks down, sprouts wings, keeping only his serpentine eyes and a tuft of his red hair.

Crowley transforms effortlessly.

Warlock manages the feat with a little less finesse and a frantic snapping of fingers, but even though he’s only done it about a dozen times, he makes a handsome young bat. Father and son circle the neighborhood once to stretch their leathery wings and then rise high into the air. From this height, they can see everything, the whole of London stretched out beneath them. Crowley manages to spot Aziraphale and Adam one last time, then heads towards the ocean, disappearing into the night.

***

“Here we are, Adam,” Aziraphale says, opening the door to the Young house and ushering his charge inside. “If you hurry, get yourself washed up and into your nighttime clothes, you can sort your candy until your parents get home.”

“Can I have a piece or two?” Adam asks, gripping hard to the handles of his bags. “Or seven?”

“Three,” Aziraphale counters.

“Five?” Adam negotiates hopefully.

Aziraphale bobs his head back and forth, taking his time on purpose.

“Four,” he decides. “Final offer.”

“Deal!” Adam takes it. No need to tempt fate any further. He races off towards the staircase, burdened by roughly sixteen pounds of sugar weighing down his arms, but stops at the bottom step. He looks at Aziraphale thoughtfully for a moment before he speaks.

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Adam?”

“Warlock and his dad … they’re vampires, aren’t they?”

Aziraphale smiles to himself and nods. Crowley and Warlock are as much humans as he and Adam. Aziraphale is an angel, tasked by the Almighty Herself to care for the Antichrist, ensure he never comes into his power and brings about the end of the world. He’s been on the lookout for demons since Adam was born.

Which should make striking up a conversation with a vampire inadvisable.

But Aziraphale doesn’t believe Crowley meant to do them any harm. He didn’t come across as the dangerous sort of evil. For one thing, he didn’t seem to recognize Aziraphale and Adam for what they are at all. And a vampire adopting a son? Aziraphale has never heard of such a thing. Vampires tend to be opportunists. What could Crowley possibly have to gain by doing that? Still, Aziraphale can’t let his guard down, not for a minute. He isn’t sure what Crowley was trying to pull, but he hopes he gets the chance to find out. “Yes, I believe they are.”

“Cool,” Adam says with an awe-consumed grin. “I hope we see them again.”

Aziraphale pictures Crowley in his mind: his fair skin, his steep nose, his red hair, and his snake-ish eyes. Aziraphale has seen his share of demons, but they’ve all been wretched. Not Crowley. Crowley takes pride in his appearance, that’s for sure. It reminds Aziraphale of the sad state of his wings. He must groom them as soon as time permits.

“So do I, Adam,” he says, planning for later tonight when young Adam is asleep. Wing grooming is a messy business, one he’d prefer to do in private. “So do I.”

[marauder-exe]

AU list!

hi! These are a bunch of Au’s that i could write,and you could request! (reposting because it didnt work the first time)

General

Fake dating (My personal favourite)

Soulmates

Coffee shop

Modern Royalty

Rockstar

Running From The Police

Rebel Against The Goverment

High School

University

Law school

Delayed-Flights-And-Were-Stuck-In-The-Airport-And-Its-Like-2Am

Roommates

Road Trip

Arranged Marriage

Im-Arranged-To-Marry-Your-Brother-But-Were-In-Love

Amnesia

Tattoo-Artist-And-Coffee-Shop-Worker

Loved-Since-Childhood

Professor-Student (of age)

Met-On-Holiday

More detailed

21.You were singing/playing guitar/etc. in the park to protest the war and a policeman tried to dismiss you for 'disturbing the peace' but you argued that you were promoting peace and things got heated and next thing you know you're being arrested for assaulting an officer. You intrigue me, so I'm here to bail you out and maybe take you on a date?

22.the nice one who everybody loves with the grumpy and strict one that the students hate and the students wonder?????????how what the fuck

23.we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward

24. i sit at the rental booth at our local ice rink and watch you teach children how to skate

25. alternatively, i watch kids teach you how to skate because you’re a terrible skater

26. i’m running late to an important interview/meeting and you accidentally spill your hot cocoa all over my outfit

27. you’re my hot ski instructor and i’m failing the bunny hill

28. i slip on some ice and you’re the stranger who catches me

29.  i gave my winter coat to a homeless person and come into your store to warm up

30. our friends rent a cabin to go skiing and we’re the only ones who stay inside

31. you’re the asshole of our group and we don’t get along, but then i find out you make soup for the local shelter

32.we’re waiting in line for the club when you complain that your roommate stole your gloves so let me warm your hands up with mine

33.my family invites you to join our holiday meal as an obvious setup and i’m so sorry

34.the power goes out in our apartment building, but i’m not prepared for this, and you come to check on me

35.i’m having a snowball fight with my friend in the park and i hit you instead

36.a storm is delaying our flight home and i’m afraid of thunder, please talk to me while we wait

37. we’re both in small claims court and i got into a huge fight with the person suing me but you stepped in to hold me back before security got there

38. i drove two hours to the closest video rental store that’s still operating and you were checking out the only copy of the movie i was after

39. i hit you with my car but luckily you’re okay, but we should still exchange information i guess

40. i was worried about buying something off of someone creepy from craigslist but oh no you’re hot

41. my friend talked me into playing a drunken game of spin the bottle even though we’re all adults and now we have to make out

42. we both decided to take a [yoga/fencing/cooking etc] class and we’re the only two assholes not taking it seriously and everyone else is giving us dirty looks but we keep grinning over at each other

43. my date just made a scene in public and got arrested and now i’m stranded in a city without a ride home

44. sharing a cab together

45. you’re trying to get me to sign a petition and i have no idea what you’re talking about

46. you’re drunk at this festival and dancing on the table and when you eventually fell i caught you

47. we both play this stupid game online and you keep beating me every single goddamn time so i called you out and you are pretty cute but can you not

48. im a bartender and you just came in here without shoes sat down and ordered a chocolate volcano and idk what the fuck that is and im scared to ask

49. we are neighbours and every night at 3:14 am you start yodeling for no fucking reason??? why???? is that you yodeling??? its been 2 months???

50.im a pizza delivery person and i just delivered a pizza to someone in the middle of a satanic ritual and they gave me their number???

51. i woke up this morning to find you sitting in my living room with a goat in a poncho??? who are you??? why is the goat wearing a poncho??? how did you get the goat in here i live on the 12th floor???

52. we work out at the same gym and you always look super legit but i know you sing hannah montana in the shower and you know i know

53. im a cashier and i saw you stuffing you pants full of potatoes and i would stop you but you already have 27 and i want to see how many you can fit

54. its 4 am and im drunk as fuck in a mcdonalds and you have been watching my trying to eat this burger for 30 minutes

55. i was playing beer pong with a coin and i accidentally threw it right into your eye at a party

56. i’m at the beach and some kids thought it was funny to bury me in the sand when i dozed off can you please dig me out

57. it’s unbearably hot and we’re both fighting over the last handheld electrical fan at the shop at the amusement park

58. hey i just met you, and this is crazy, but i get sunburned really easily so can you please help me put sunscreen on my back?

59. thunderstorm after a menacing heatwave and we’re both getting weird looks for dancing in the rain

60.i have no idea who you are but you just fainted right in front of me holy shit dude you need to drink more in this heat

61. we both chased after the leaving ice cream van like ten-year-olds and now we’re both out of breath and a bit embarrassed

62.i clearly reserved this deck chair by putting a towel on it why on earth are you lying on it who the fuck do you think you are

63. My friends bet I wouldn’t buy these three weird and questionable items and you’re my cashier.

64.Once a week I go visit the pet store just to stare at the cute kittens and puppies and you’re the nice employee who always lets me hold them and wait I think I’m going to cry hold on.

65.You’re the DJ of the University’s radio station and every time you give an opinion on a current event I have to call and argue with you because could you seriously be anymore wrong?

66.We both wait tables at the same restaurant and you’re always mad at me by the end of the night because I make more in tips

67.We have the same class and once a week you wear this graphic shirt I don’t understand and I really want to ask you about it.

68.We both work at the same craft store that literally has no customers so we have nothing to do and I’m always reading at the register but you always have to criticize my book choice what the hell?

69.I’m working the concession stand for this week’s home game and this is the fifth time you’ve come back for snacks wait are you flirting with me?

70. we’re at a bookstore and you and I seem to have similar taste in books have you read this one? How about this one?

71. you look like you need help and I’m a professional roller/ice skater but I don’t want you to feel bad about how much you suck but wow you suck

72. You ordered your food before me and they gave you a drink you didn’t want so you gave it to me

73. We’re sitting at adjacent computers in the library and I’m taking extra care not to look at your screen out of respect but what the fuck do you keep laughing at

74. as a joke I yelled out “happy birthday to someone!” in this store and you called back “thank you!” who are you

75. You heard me talking about a TV show in class the other day and now you’re passionately yelling at me about how good it is we’ve never actually spoken before

76. It’s 10:30 at night and I left my glasses at home so I can’t read any of these labels and you’re one of the only people in the grocery store and GODDAMMIT DO YOU HAVE ANY TOMATO SAUCE WITHOUT CHUNKS

77. We go to the same support group; I have social anxiety and you’re a kleptomaniac who sorta stole my heart

78. You thought you were alone at the bus stop so early in the morning so you started passionately singing Fall Out Boy but your Patrick Stump impression could use some work and I’m not really afraid to point that out

79. I’m an artist and you have a really nice face so would you mind if I drew you?

80. We’re rival up-and-coming singers and every time one of us releases a new single the other does a cover to try to make it better; we’re always trying to top each other and out-cute each other, but half our fans aggressively ship us; our agents use this to their advantage and decide we should do a duet because it’ll be popular; unfortunately now that we’re in the same studio and I’ve seen what you’re like I really wanna know what your lips feel like

81.PLEASE I REALLY CANNOT FIND MY CAT AND I KNOW IT’S THREE A.M. BUT NEIL CATRICK HARRIS AND I WOULD BOTH APPRECIATE THE HELP

82. We were both stood up for dates at the same nice restaurant so we decide to eat together and split the check but I dunno you’re pretty interesting aside from your distractingly enormous eyebrows

83. We met at a mutual friend’s cheesy masquerade party and we agree that the only good thing about this party is the masks so you can’t judge a book by its cover only now that we’ve been talking I want to see your face but I don’t know how to ask

84. You used to date my friend who absolutely hates your guts after a messy breakup and now you’re flirting with me and I really shouldn’t be so interested in you but I am

85.We pass each other every day while we’re biking on the same path so we’ve started smiling at each other and one day you’re stopped because you’re having an asthma attack so I offer you my extra water bottle and now we’re talking and now I’M the one who’s breathless

86.I lost my little sibling in IKEA and I need your help finding them

87.I'm a private detective hired to follow you, but you're endearingly boring and mostly I just like watching you and oops, I sort of find you adorable.

88. You've been sketching me for half an hour now, and just shuffled up to hand me the finished product and it's TERRIBLE but you just wanted an excuse to talk to me.

89.  I'm at an art exhibit and I just badmouthed the art, because I don't get it, okay? And it turns out you're the artist. I'm so sorry, maybe I could get you coffee and you could explain what it was supposed to be?

90. We're the only two people who turned up to an underground gig and it should be awkward, but the band is amazing and you asked me to dance and hey, there's nobody watching but us.

91.  You live in the apartment next to me. We're not supposed to have pets, but I KNOW you have a cat. I'll make you a deal, I won't tell, if you let me pet it.

92.  I punched you because I thought you were insulting my friend, but it turns out you know each other and it was an inside joke and I'm so sorry, let me drive you to the hospital?

93. We both wanted to rent a bike for an hour but the only one they have is a tandem bike

94. I’m on a terrible date and you’re my waitor please help me

95.Our dick landlord just evicted us both

96.I’m your neighbor and I can hear you fucking someone who  shares my name

97. You’re sort of famous and we vaguely know each other through bumping into each other all the time but the media thinks we’re dating

98. Your roommate cheated on me and I just threw your laptop out the window thinking it was his

99. It’s 2am on the night of my 21st birthday and we gotta fix this fucking mess by morning or else we’re fucked

100.Fuck you and your bee farm I’ve had enough

Feel free to use any of these as your own! If you wanna request you could drop an inbox saying ‘ could you do ____ AU with this character’!

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Summary: When Marinette has to cook for her family reunion, Adrien offers to help. Only one problem: he has no idea how to cook. With Plagg's help, Adrien proposes a Disney-inspired solution that will either keep him from making a fool of himself, or backfire terribly. (Spoiler alert: it backfires terribly.) A university-aged Adrinette reveal fic.

Word Count: 6437

XXX

“Plagg, what am I going to do?  I don’t know how to cook!”  Adrien pulled at his hair as he paced circles around his apartment.

Plagg, meanwhile, lazily hovered with his paws crossed behind his head.  “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you tried to swoop in like some kind of superhero.”

“I am a superhero.”  Not that it mattered, because his superpower was destruction. Maybe his Lady would’ve been able to help Marinette cook dinner for her family reunion, but Adrien was … well.  Even though the cat miraculous didn’t actually make him more disaster prone, he had enough bad luck in the kitchen on his own.  He’d survived on spaghetti and takeout since moving into his own apartment this semester.

“Why don’t you just tell her you can’t do it?  Something came up.  You fell headfirst into a pool of cream cheese.  You got zapped by an akuma and all your hair fell out.”

“That hasn’t happened in at least a month.  Besides, I can’t flake out on Marinette.  She needs me.”  He stood up straighter.

“What she needs is someone who won’t turn soup into an explosive.  What about your friend Alya?  Isn’t her mom some kind of chef?”

“She’s out of town for Christmas.  Nino too, or I’d ask him to help me.”  Did he know anyone else who could teach him how to cook in one night?  Kagami was back in Japan, Chloe wouldn’t touch an oven to save her life, Luka was on tour with XY… Ladybug was pretty much his only friend still in town.  She would probably be willing to teach him, but on their last patrol she’d mentioned she’d be busy the next few days with her own plans.

“You need to get some more friends, kid.”

“It’s kind of late for that,” Adrien murmured.  Too many people in his classes were more interested in the Gabriel name than in him.  Besides, he might not have made a lot of new friends, but he’d gotten much closer to Marinette and his old friends now that he had more control over his schedule.  

“Well, as your very first and best friend—”

“Chloe was technically my first friend.”

Plagg glared.  “As your first and best friend, I will help you for the low low price of two wheels of Camembert.”

Adrien stopped pacing.  He only realized he’d ended up in the bathroom when he caught a glimpse of his reflection.

“Wait.  You know how to cook?”

Plagg scoffed.  “I’ve been alive since the dawn of time.  I’ve picked up a thing or two.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow.  “You also thought that my blender was a jet tub for kwamis.”

“Okay, so you humans have invented some fancy new gadgets since I was last out, big deal.  I still know more about cooking than you.”

Unfortunately, he was probably right.

“Alright.  Deal.”  Adrien held out a finger, and he and Plagg shook on it.

“Alright, loverboy, let’s get cooking.”

XXX

“No, not like that!  What are you trying to do, knock someone out with that thing?”

“At least I wouldn’t do it with the smell!”  Adrien instinctively waved the frying pan in front of his nose, and the burned remnants of roux glopped out onto the tile.

“Coward.  It’ll taste good once you put it all together.”

Adrien wasn’t convinced.  But then again, he hadn’t followed Plagg’s instructions exactly.  Plagg never gave him quite enough time to pour the ingredients in the pan or measure the spices with the little spoons.  

“I wish you’d be able to help me while I’m there.”  Adrien sighed.  “I’m going to forget all of this as soon as I leave.”

“You can’t be good at everything, I guess.”  Plagg shrugged.  “You can still always call your girlfriend and say you gave up.”

“She’s a good friend.  We’ve been over this.”  He’d promised not to call Marinette ‘just a friend’ on the grounds that she deserved better than that.  But she still wasn’t his girlfriend.  Which was fine, so why did his stomach sink slightly?  Probably just nervousness about the task ahead of him.  

“And I’m not giving up.  What if you just … hid in my hair and whispered advice?”

Plagg tapped his chin.  “Maybe if you wear a hat …” A grin suddenly split his tiny face.  “Hey, what if you wore that ug—uh, that beret Ladybug gave you?  You know, from your fan club?”

“Great idea!”  Adrien bolted out of the bathroom and towards his closet.  He wore the hat every once in a while—its ridiculous energy was too good to leave hidden like it had been in lycée.  He made a special point of wearing it to every meeting with his dad, though he did feel a little bit nervous of wearing it around Marinette.  She was in their university’s design program; she’d probably think it was tacky.

Oh well.  He’d probably been tackier around her before.

“You sure you’ll fit in here?”  Adrien squinted at the underside of the beret before pulling it over his hair.

“Looks cozy enough to me.”  Plagg slipped under, and Adrien felt him shuffle around. Unfortunately, his voice was too muffled for Adrien to make out after that.

“Plagg?”

“Blegh.”  The kwami scrambled back out and scraped his tongue with his paws.  “Your hair tastes like shampoo.  I can’t talk without getting a mouthful of it.”

“Guess that isn’t going to work …” He pursed his lips as he adjusted the beret.  “It’s too bad real life isn’t like Ratatouille. You could just tug on my hair and do all the cooking for me.”

Unless …?

“Oh no, don’t give me that look.”  Plagg crossed his arms.  “That’s just a movie.  Though it would be nice to show you what it feels like to get dragged around for a change …”

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”  Adrien didn’t really think it would work either, but Plagg was magic.  

“Fine.  But I’m upping my price to three wheels.”

Plagg slipped back under the beret, and Adrien felt a tugging sensation on his scalp.  But nothing seemed to happen.

“Guess that was a pretty dumb idea,” he admitted sheepishly.

Then green light crackled from his ring.  

His arms flung into the air.

“Ack!  Plagg, did you do that?”  

Adrien heard a muffled cackle from under the hat.  Then his legs started walking towards the refrigerator.

“Okay, so this is … working?  This is working!”

Plagg missed a few times before guiding his hand to pull open the fridge.  Of course, his next step was to reach for a wedge of Camembert and hold it up to his head.

“The sweet taste of victory,” Plagg said while popping out to swallow the wedge whole.

“More like the rotten taste of old cheese.”

But Adrien still grinned.  However Plagg had pulled off his puppeteer trick, Adrien wasn’t going to make a fool of himself tomorrow.

XXX

“Adrien!”  Marinette threw her arms around him as soon as she opened the door.  “Thank goodness you’re here. My parents just called and they got a last-minute order and—eep!”  She sprung back, her eyes wide as she stared at his beret.

“Come on, it’s not that bad.”  He rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to feel embarrassed.  Marinette wouldn’t judge him based on what he wore.  “It was an old gift.  I like that it drives my father crazy.”

Plus, Ladybug had hand-delivered it, but she probably didn’t care about that.

“W-well then, it’s perfect.”  She grinned too wide.  “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a hat before.”

“You’ve definitely—”

“Anyway, no time for that!  There’s only five hours before Uncle Wang gets here. Nonna is already at my parent’s, and my other grandma and grandpa are coming for the first time since Mom moved here.  Not to mention fourteen of my cousins I’ve never met and their parents!”  Marinette rushed towards the small kitchen, which was already full of steaming pots and used pans. She threw on her pink oven mitts and pulled a tray of golden-brown pastries out of the oven.

Adrien swallowed.  Marinette’s kitchen might look like a war zone, but she clearly knew what she was doing.  What if he just got in the way?

“How did you end up in charge of the food?”  he asked while throwing on a mint-green apron from inside the pantry door.  Her great-uncle was a world-class chef, and her parents owned a bakery.  Her grandpa Rolland had even taught mice how to bake.  

“I’m not in charge.  I just need to help a little since Uncle Wang is running late, and the reunion starts tonight, and Grandpa won’t bake anything in bulk because ‘that’s not how it’s done’’—she used a gruff imitation of his voice—“and my parents have so much bakery work to do. I’m just trying to do what I can.”

She sighed as she stirred a pot of wonton soup.  “Unfortunately, I can’t do a lot.”

“What are you talking about?  It looks like you could feed an army with all this.”  

He carefully dodged Marinette as she scrambled in a drawer for a fork.  She tested the rice noodles boiling behind the soup, then grimaced and slumped against the counter, fork nearly slipping from her fingers. Her hair was falling out of her bun, and flour smudged her pink apron, contrasting with the splatters of dark sauce.

“I hope so.  There’s just … so much to live up to, you know?  Everyone on both sides of my family cooks.  And now I have to merge styles from two different cultures in a way that will please everyone …”

Her gaze swept across the counter, where dumplings and quiches, brothy soups and thin crêpes—even ratatouille, ironically—lay in various stages of completion. The savory and sweet fragrances somehow melded together in harmony.

“I know I can’t understand how hard that must be. About trying to bridge two different sides of your family, I mean.  But you’re amazing, Marinette.” He stepped closer to her and brushed a streak of flour off of her cheek. “You’ve already worked so hard on all this; I can’t see how anyone wouldn’t love it.  May I?”

He gestured to a spoon sitting in one of the soups, and she nodded.  He raised it to his lips and sipped the tangy broth.  A bit of crunchy bamboo shoot added texture to the savory liquid.  He didn’t want to eat too much—it was for her family, not him—but if it weren’t for that, he could’ve downed the whole bowl.  He could practically taste the love and care she’d put into it.

“See? Amazing.”  He grinned.  “Just like the rest of the food we’re going to make.”

At least, the food she made would be amazing.  He just hoped that what he made with Plagg’s help would be edible.  And not offend her family.

Her lips parted before curving into a smile.  “Right.  Thank you, Adrien.”

She paused, staring for a moment, until one of the shallow pots started bubbling over.

“Ack!  The filling!”

She rushed to switch off the burner and remove the lid before sighing loudly.  “I think it’s still alright.  Now I just need to fold this into the dough …”

“Can I help with that?”  he asked, feeling like a rock in the middle of a river as Marinette flowed between the cooking stations around him.

“Huh?  Oh—um, why don’t you work on filling the crêpes instead?  This baozi is a Chinese dish, and it’s my first time making it by myself.  Not that I don’t appreciate the offer!  You were so sweet to come at all, and—”

“Marinette.”  He squeezed her shoulder gently, wishing he could relieve some ot the tension there.  “I’ll do the crêpes.” 

She let out a breath.  “Thanks.  I was going to do a pear-hazelnut filling, if you’re okay with that?  The pears are in the bottom right drawer of the fridge, and the hazelnuts are on the middle shelf in the panty.  All the spices are up there.”  She pointed to the cabinet above the sink.

“Sounds perfect,” he said with the fake confidence he usually saved for his modeling jobs.

Before he could ask for a recipe, she went back to work, leaving him to his own devices in front of a stack of unfilled crêpes.  A mixture of the rich smells and his own nerves started to turn his stomach.

“Are you ready, Plagg?”  he whispered, adjusting his beret.

In response, his scalp twinged, and then his hand rose and formed a thumbs-up.

“Well, here we go.”  He cracked his knuckles.  

He rinsed out a pan that it looked like Marinette had previously used for some kind of stir fry.  That wouldn’t be a problem, would it?  It looked like every other pan in the apartment was in use already.  

Marinette didn’t stop to correct him.  Then again, she seemed to be in ten places at once, adding spices and stirring and adjusting dials and rummaging through cupboards, all in between filling her baozi.  Watching her work was so mesmerizing it was almost too easy to ignore his own job.

Until Plagg started tugging his hair again, anyway.

This is going to be weird, he thought while Plagg directed his hands to chop the pears.  He was pretty sure he could’ve done that himself—he didn’t want his kwami chopping off one of his fingers.  But resisting at this point would just increase his chances of accidentally getting stabbed.

Besides, Plagg was fast. He diced the five pears in the time it probably would’ve taken Adrien to cut up one.  Granted, he also left a juicy mess on the counter, but it sounded like they were on too much of a deadline to worry about that.

Plagg tossed them into the pan, cores and all.  Adrien frowned at that.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.

“What?”  Marinette asked from where she was stretching out dough.

“Um, nothing!  I just, uh, talk to myself while I cook.”

“Oh, me too.  I was just trying not to do it in front of you.  You know, in case I sounded crazy.”  She laughed, seeming to release a little bit of tension. “I think I picked it up from my mom.  She always says the steps out loud as she does them so she doesn’t forget which one she’s on.”

He smiled at the image of her doing this with Mrs. Cheng.  “Did you cook with your mom a lot?”

“I don’t think I’d say a lot.  I was pretty busy in lycée, and I didn’t appreciate her culture as much as I do now.  I wish I would’ve learned more.”

“It looks like you learned a lot if you can put all this together.”

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  “Thanks.  That means a lot.”

He retrieved the hazelnuts and tossed them into the pan.  She still had her back to him, the baozi taking up most of her attention.  Should he ask her to check his work so far?  Plagg didn’t hesitate to nab some spices from the high cabinet and start sprinkling them into the pan.

“Wait—not that one!” he hissed, trying to drop the shaker that read chili powder before Plagg could add it.

“Adrien?  Is something wrong?”

He spun, quickly shoving the container behind his back.  “No!  Everything’s just peachy—er, pear-y.”

She giggled at his joke, even though it had to be one of his lamest puns yet.

“Okay, but you can let me know if you need help.  Sorry I just kind of threw you into this.”  Her arm gently brushed his as she dialed back the heat on the noodles.  “Um—is there a reason you’re holding chili powder?” 

“I was just moving it so I could reach the, uh…”

Plagg helpfully directed his arm towards a different spice.

“... garlic salt?”

Marinette blinked, and he hastily shoved the garlic salt back, selecting cinnamon instead.  He should’ve known that trusting the kwami who liked eating rotten cheese would be a mistake.

“You’re so funny, Adrien.”  She laughed again.  “But, um, you might want to double check your pears.  I think some of those still have the cores in them.”

His face flushed.  Thanks a lot, Plagg.

He picked out the cores with a pair of tongs, hoping that his kwami wouldn’t try to take over again.  Adrien might be bad at cooking, but at least he wasn’t going to try and poison Marinette’s family.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have much idea of what to do next.  He’d turned the burner on high, and the pears were starting to sizzle.  How did nuts cook?  That didn’t make a lot of sense to him.  He probably needed something liquidy to go with them, right?

Aaaand the pears already smelled like they were burning.  He quickly flipped back the knob while he searched for something to turn into a sauce.  Milk?  That would make it nice and creamy, right?

He grabbed the half-gallon from the fridge and splashed a bit into the pan.  Drops splattered the counter, and he winced.

That was when Plagg again decided to take over.  Adrien grit his teeth as he selected the block of muenster from the cheese drawer.  That definitely didn’t belong in the crêpe filling, but Adrien couldn’t get him to stop without making a scene in front of Marinette.  Who would then wonder why he was yelling at himself, and either think he was insane or find out his secret identity.  Both of which would be unacceptable.

He growled, hoping Plagg would get the message.  If he did, he didn’t show it.  At least Marinette didn’t hear over her own soft humming.

The sliced cheese went into the pan, plopping wetly in the milk.  Maybe the finished product would surprise him, and cheese and pears would create a tasty sweet-savory combo, and Marinette would be super impressed by his originality, and she’d invite him over to cook with him again, and they’d make a cute romantic dinner together …

He banished that daydream before he could think too much of it.

By that point Plagg was using his arm to whisk the milk and melting cheese together.  The pears and hazelnuts had settled to the bottom of the pan.  He frowned as the whisk failed to unstick them.

“This isn’t working,” he said under his breath.  “We might need to start over.”

He swore he could hear Plagg’s irritated sigh.  But the kwami jerked the pan up, taking it towards the sink.

“Hey, what are you—Plagg!”  he shouted before he could stop himself.

Plagg dropped the pan in the sink, spraying hot milk-cheese-pear slime all over the backsplash.  And all over Adrien’s apron.  

And, most importantly, all over his face.

“Adrien!”  Marinette dropped her unfinished dumpling back on the counter.  Filling spilled out as she rushed to his side.  “Are you okay?  What happened?”

He hurriedly tried to splash cold water on his face, but spilled it more down his shirt than anything.  She offered him a damp hand towel, which was much more helpful.

“I’m so sorry.”  His face still burned, but not from the hot food.

“It’s okay!  Accidents happen—trust me, I would know.”  She smiled before her eyes widened.  “Oh no, your beret!”

“What?”  He slapped his hands to his head, prompting a tiny yelp from Plagg.  So he was still there.  Under his hat.  Which was still on his head. Phew.

“It’s got milk on it.” Marinette reached up like she intended to take it off.

“No!”  he shouted, and she stepped back, startled.

“S-sorry!  I just thought I’d help you clean it off, since it seems so, um, important to you.”

“I like it with the milk on it.  It adds, uh, character?”

He heard Plagg snicker from beneath the beret.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”  she asked.  “If you need to take a break, or, um, get a new shirt … n-not that I want you to take off your shirt!  Uh—forget I said that.”

She shook her head, and more strands fell out of her bun.

He frowned down at his shirt.  Unfortunately, the splatter had made it under his apron, and his shirt was pretty gross.  He even felt a slimy pear sliding down under his collar.

“I’m okay,” he said.  “Finishing all the food for your reunion is more important.”

“No, don’t worry.  I can handle it.  Just having you here to keep me from freaking out has helped more than you know.”

She took the towel back from him with a smile.  Frankly, he was still surprised she wasn’t angry with him.  He’d come to help, and all he’d done so far was waste her time.

“I’m really not bothering you?”  he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.  Bad idea.  His hands were still a bit wet and sticky.

“You could never bother me, Adrien.”  Her cheeks pinked before she turned back to fiddle with the soup.  

“Really?  I thought …”  He bit his lip, remembering how many times he’d startled Marinette before.  How many times he’d seemed to make her uncomfortable, or awkward, or … he wasn’t really sure what.  There had always been something keeping them apart, no matter how close they became.

Maybe it’s just your little crush, Plagg would’ve teased.  Thankfully, he wasn’t going to talk while trapped under the beret.

“Thought what?”  she asked once she’d added some seasonings to the soup.  

“I thought I’d be your last pick for cooking help,” he said, which wasn’t quite a lie.  “I didn’t want to tell you, but I … well, I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Best to just admit it now, rather than after he’d ruined her family reunion.  

Marinette blinked before covering her mouth.  “I’m so sorry.  I should’ve known you probably never cooked at your house.  And here I am just asking you to throw together a crêpe filling!”

“It’s okay!  I’m the one who’s sorry.  I should’ve told you, I just … I wanted to impress you.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have admitted that much.  He was sure he heard Plagg laughing from under his hat.

“You … wanted to impress … me?”  She pointed to herself, as if there was anyone else in the kitchen he might have been talking about.

“Is that really so surprising?”

“Uh—yeah, actually.” Marinette stared at him like he’d grown a second head.  Plagg hadn’t peeked out, had he?  “I might be able to cook, but you’re good at everything.  Fencing, basketball, Mandarin—which took me ages to get halfway decent at—not to mention you’re drop-dead gorgeous—”

His heart stopped.  Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head.  

“I mean—you’re a model; of course you’re gorgeous!  It’s literally your job.  I bet people call you gorgeous all the time.” 

“Not when I’m covered in slimy food, though.”  He grinned.  She thought he was drop-dead gorgeous!  Maybe he hadn’t made too much of a mess after all.

“Well—you would be a lot more gorgeous if you took off that stupid beret!”  She pointed at his head.

“W-what?”  He pulled it down over his ears.  “This is my emotional support beret.  I can’t take it off or I’ll cry.”

“Why did you have to pick that one, though?  It’s so—I don’t know!” She gestured vaguely.  “It looks like a fourteen-year-old made it!”

He pouted at her.  “Hey, be nice.  It was probably fashionable in Brazil at the time.”

It did look pretty silly, but that was its appeal.  Fashion-savvy Marinette probably wouldn’t understand that.

“R-right.  In Brazil.”  She shook her head.  “Why do you like it though?”

He blushed.  Aside from spitting in the face of the Gabriel brand, it also reminded him of the day Ladybug had appeared in his room.  That serendipitous event had never happened before or since.

“How embarrassing does it sound if I say my old crush delivered it to me?”

“Your—your crush?”  She blinked.  “But then—you had a crush on Ladybug?”

The soup started bubbling again, but she made no move to quiet it.

“Of course I have a crush on Ladybug.  I’m pretty sure all of Paris has a crush on—wait, how did you know Ladybug was the one to deliver it?”

Marinette’s face went pale.  “I—um, well, I … I think the soup is burning!”

She rushed to stir it again, but Adrien caught her hand.

“Wait, Marinette, please.”  His heart beat faster.  He’d never told anyone about Ladybug’s visit.  She hadn’t been surprised when he mentioned Brazil, either.

But what could he say?  Come out and ask her if she was Ladybug?  That would be too good to be true, right?  Marinette couldn’t be Ladybug; he’d seen them together once.  But he’d pulled crazy stunts to protect his identity too.

She bit her lip, but didn’t pull her hand from his.  

“I can’t answer that question, Adrien.”

It wasn’t a confirmation.  But it wasn’t a denial either.

It had been five years.  Five years, and he still didn’t know who his partner was.  If she was here, in front of him, after all this time …

… he’d still respect her choice not to tell him.  As much as it hurt, he’d do it.

“Alright.”  He sighed.  “I get it.”

An uncomfortable silence pushed between them, punctured only by the bubbling soup and beeping oven.  The first batch of Marinette’s baozi was done; she removed them without speaking.

Why couldn’t they go back to five minutes ago, when she’d called him gorgeous?  He was already thrilled to hear Marinette say that.  But if she was his Lady too?  He’d melt just like that cheese in the pan.

It was going to drive him crazy if he thought about it too long.  He turned on the faucet, hoping that the loud water would drown out his thoughts as he did the dishes.  At least that was one task he could accomplish without ruining any more of Marinette’s food.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, barely audible over the running tap.

“What for?”  He was the one pushing the boundaries between them.  If she was even Ladybug at all.  Maybe he’d managed to misinterpret everything, but he couldn’t see how.

“For not being honest with you.  I wish I could, I swear.”  Her hands squeezed her dough, and it oozed out between her fingers.

“I’m sure you have your reasons,” he said with resignation.  Ladybug was the Guardian.  She couldn’t risk revealing her identity.  Even if it felt unfair, he should be used to it by now.

But before, you didn’t think Ladybug was one of your best friends.

Even more than that, if he was honest with himself.  He’d wanted to be closer to Marinette for a  long time now.  What if he was just deluding himself with wishful thinking?

“I wish I didn’t, sometimes,” she murmured.

He switched off the faucet and turned to face her.  Maybe some things needed to stay secret, but not everything.

“Marinette?”  He swallowed.

She looked up from where she’d been absently rolling the dough again.  So much for not wasting her time.

“Y-yeah?”

He didn’t expect to confess to her while standing in her kitchen, with Plagg hiding under his old beret, with his clothes covered in the ruined crêpe filling.  But it was important, and if he could finally admit it to himself, the least he could do was admit it to her.

“I don’t just have a crush on Ladybug.”

“You—you don’t?”  

Was it just his imagination, or did she deflate a little?

“She’s still very important to me.  I know she always will be.  But I’ve come to realize how important you are to me, too.”  He watched her face as he spoke, but her wide eyes were impossible to read.  Hopefully he wasn’t ruining everything with what he was about to say.

“I like you, Marinette.  As more than a friend.  And I would never want to make you uncomfortable.  All I’ve ever wanted is to be closer to you.”

For a moment, her face didn’t change.  She just stood there, staring blankly, like someone had pressed a pause button.  He would’ve thought Bunnyx had stopped time to reset his screw-up if it weren’t for the soup continuing to boil over.

“Marinette?”  he prodded, his stomach beginning to bubble as nervously as that soup.  

She jumped.  “Yes, I—comfort you me make—yike lou—”

A stream of incoherent noises followed that.  Oh no, he’d broken her!  Why couldn’t Plagg have taken over and stopped him from talking?  

“—ugh!  I thought I dopped stewing this years ago!”  She dropped her burning face into her hands.

Adrien reached out to touch her shoulder and then thought better of it.  His arm fell limply to his side.

“I’m so sorry.  You can just forget I said anything.  I’ll—I’ll let you finish up the food and get out of your way—”

“No!”  She waved her hands, startling him so bad he stepped back—and slipped in a puddle of spilled dishwater.

“Adrien!”  She caught the front of his apron as he fell, but that just meant she was pulled down on top of him.

He yelped as his head cracked against the linoleum.  At least she landed on his chest, his arms cradling her.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry—AAAAAH!”

“What, what!?”  He sat up as she scrambled off of him.

That was when he caught sight of the striped beret lying in the puddle next to him.

Oh no.

Plagg laughed nervously from where he was tangled in Adrien’s hair.  “Hey, Pigtails.”

“Chat?”  Marinette smacked her hands to her cheeks.  “You’re—you’re Chat Noir?” 

“Surprise!”  Plagg wasn’t in Adrien’s line of sight, but he could hear the grin in his kwami’s voice.

“Where’s Bunnyx when you need her?”  Adrien groaned.  Not only was his confession a total bust, but he also ended up giving away his most important secret.

And he still didn’t know for sure that she was Ladybug.

“You’re Chat Noir.”  Marinette plopped down into the puddle beside him.  “Adrien is Chat Noir.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got that,” Plagg said.  “Are you gonna put the poor kid out of his misery or not?”

“Huh?”  She blinked.

“He’s in love with you.  Hopelessly, stupidly in love with you.  He loves you almost as much as I love cheese.”

That was a pretty big point in favor of Marinette being Ladybug. He guessed he should count himself lucky, but that also meant he’d just slipped and fallen in dirty dishwater in front of not only Marinette, but Ladybug.

He closed his eyes.  “Plagg, please let me die in peace.”  

“... Adrien?”

He felt her breath fan over his face, and his eyes back snapped open.

Her gray-blue eyes were hovering right above him.  Well, he had said he wanted to be closer to her.

“Y-yeah?”

“Please don’t die,” she said softly.  Her hand came up to cradle the side of his face—or maybe she was just trying to make sure he hadn’t bruised himself. “I l-love you too.”

Every one of his brain cells fizzled out.  She.  Loved him?

“I think I am dead.”  He smiled, reaching his arms around her.  “I’m pretty sure I just went to heaven.”

Her face flushed.  “You’re always going to be that cheesy, aren’t you?”

“Are you really surprised, Princess?”

“No.”  She leaned in, brushing her nose against his.  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Ew, gross.”  Plagg gagged.  “This isn’t the kind of cheese I signed up for.”

“You’re the one who said she should put me out of my misery.”

“Yeah, well I think you both need to put this food out of its misery.  The soup’s burning.”

Marinette sprung up, eyes wide.  “Oh no!  We still have to get everything ready!  And the crêpe filling isn’t done and I haven’t finished the baozi—” 

“It’s okay!  We can still get it all done … somehow.”  Adrien winced as he stood up.  Now they were both covered in a mix of dishwater and crêpe filling.  “Just keep Plagg away from it all.  He’s the reason I ruined the pears.  Oh, and he’s the reason I was wearing that beret, too.”

She went back to work as if nothing had changed between them.  It was honestly kind of amazing how quickly she had the noodles and soup under control, like she hadn’t just been freaking out moments before.  

“He’s got as awful taste in fashion as he does in food?”  she asked.

“No—well, probably, but that’s not important.  The beret was to hide him so he could help me cook.  Like in Ratatouille.”

She blinked.  “That works?”

“It would work better if my kwami knew how to cook, but yeah.”

“Hmm …”  She tapped her lips—lips he would hopefully be able to kiss once all this was taken care of, he thought with a giddy grin—before snapping her fingers.  “That’s it!  I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“What’s it?  Wait—Marinette, where are you going?”

“You’ll see!”  She winked before disappearing behind her bedroom door.

He gave the soup a careful stir while waiting for her to come back.

“You’re welcome.”  Plagg crossed his arms and smirked irritatingly.

“For what?” Adrien scowled.  “All you did was give away my identity and embarrass me in front of the love of my life!”

“Love of your life?”  Marinette appeared behind him.

He nearly knocked over the pot of soup.  It was what he deserved for startling her so much back in lycée, he guessed.

Plagg snickered.  “Bold words coming from the guy who called her a good friend earlier.”

“She is a good friend!  And the love of my life!  She’s Ladybug, Plagg!”

He pointed to the giant red-and-black egg in Marinette’s arms.  The Miracle Box.  She was Ladybug!

“You didn’t know that when you said it five seconds ago,” Plagg pointed out.

“Yeah, well—I guessed it,” he huffed.  

It had been the only answer that made sense.  And it was true.  Hopefully he could blame the tears pricking his eyes on the onion in the soup.  If not, though, crying over his amazing partner (who loved him!) was probably still the least embarrassing thing he’d done today.

Tikki poked her head out of a cookie jar.  By now he’d been startled so many times that her presence hardly registered.

“Don’t worry, Adrien.  Marinette has said way more embarrassing stuff than that.”

“Which we won’t repeat in front of him,” Marinette said dangerously.

His head was still spinning from all the revelations.  Of course, he wasn’t too surprised—who else but Marinette was amazing enough to be Ladybug?—but it was still a lot to take in at once.

“While I definitely want to hear about that later, what’s the Miracle Box out for?  Is there a kwami of cooking?  Or do you think Sass could give us a Second Chance on all this mess?”  he asked, trying to bring his focus back to the problem at hand.

“What you said about Plagg gave me an idea.”  She punched in a code on the spots, and the egg cracked open to reveal the miraculouses.  “He might not know how to cook, but I’m sure some of the other kwamis do.  And if not, I’m sure they can follow directions.”

“Great idea, Marinette!”  Tikki clapped.  “Wayzz and Pollen are pretty good at cooking, from what I remember.  Orikko is too, but you shouldn’t cook chicken in front of him.”

“Makes sense.”  Adrien nodded before turning to Marinette.  “You think they’ll be enough to make up for how badly I messed up?”

“Of course they will.  We’re Ladybug and Chat Noir; there’s no mess we can’t fix.”  She smiled as she equipped the bracelet and hair comb, then passed the Miracle Box to him.  “Have Tikki help you pick out a few more kwamis.  Together we’ll get this done in time. I know it.”

Relief washed over him, and he smiled back.

“As you wish, My Lady.”

XXX

“You’re sure I won’t be intruding?”  Adrien asked as they pulled up to her parents’ bakery.

“Of course not.  There’s no way my family would leave out my boyfriend.”  She shifted her tupperware to her other arm and reached up to adjust his (newly cleaned) beret.  “Even if he has terrible fashion sense.”

“It’s a Marinette original!  There’s nothing more fashionable than that!”

“An original from when I was fourteen!”  she pouted.

“It’s too late, Bugaboo. I’m never taking it off.”  He kissed her forehead.

“I’ll make you a new one.  Anything would be better than mixing lacy hearts and stripes.”

“I guess that’s fair.  But I’ll still treasure this one forever.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately as she pushed open the bakery door.

Not long after, Adrien, Marinette, and her family were settled around the dining room table, a feast of French and Chinese cuisine in front of them. The two sides of her family mingled, mixing as seamlessly as the dishes.  Rolland was deep in conversation with Wang about traditional cooking techniques in France versus China.  Gina (who’d insisted he just call ‘Grandma’) was regaling two of Marinette’s cousins with tales from her travels.  More of her younger cousins ran around the table, barefoot soles slapping against the hardwood floor, their hands occasionally reaching up to snag a dumpling or croissant.  It was a tight fit, but Adrien didn’t mind.  He was thrilled to be included at all.

While they ate dinner, he kept catching her looking at the hat.  But every time she did, he’d make eye contact with her, and then she’d blush and smile bright enough that it was worth every glare.

“So, what are you up to these days, son?”  Tom asked over his bowl of wonton soup.

Son.  Already, Marinette’s parents felt more like family than his own.  He would love to be part of her family for as long as she would let him.

Hopefully forever.

“Oh, not much.”  He put an arm around Marinette.  “Just learning how to cook from your amazing daughter.”

He winked, and she blushed again.  Red was her color in and out of the suit, it seemed.

“He needs all the help he can get.  You should’ve seen what he almost put in the crêpes today.”

Tom laughed.  “Well, it looks like it all turned out perfect.  Thanks for your help, both of you.”

Under the table, Adrien and Marinette shared a fistbump.  This wasn’t the first adventure they tackled together, and it wouldn’t be the last.

[popwasabi]

Why I don’t give a fuck about canon

Recently, after randomly coming across some dope pictures of Transformer toys on Instagram that gave me a strong case of nostalgia, I was inspired to revisit an old childhood favorite in “Beast Wars.”

“Beast Wars,” in case you never watched or heard of it as a kid, is the continuation of the Transformer’s story set in the future as descendants of the Auotobots and Decepticons, the Maximals and Predacons, respectively, accidentally travel to prehistoric Earth to continue a centuries long battle between the two opposing factions.

There’s a lot of to digest there, so I’m not going to go into extreme detail over the plot, but the cast features colorful characters such as Optimus Primal, Cheetor, Rattrap, Dinobot and Megatron to name a few. They all have interesting and distinct personalities and generally play well off each other. It was a big part of my childhood and I collected an ungodly amount of their toys back in the day.

(This was my first ever Beast Wars toy and I think it’s beautiful.)

My rewatch though was…a mixed bag to say the least. The graphics have not aged well. The adventure of the week setup of the plot was repetitive and lacked real character development at times. There were characters that were added in last minute to the show clearly to promote a new action figure over the story on numerous occasions. Though I found the humor to still be pretty good, the action was stale and just lacked high stakes most of the time, save for a few episodes.

I was not shocked it didn’t land terribly well on my rewatch but you know what did? “Beast Machines!”

“Beast Machines” was the follow-up to Beast Wars that had the Maximals fighting on Cybertron where Megatron has taken control of the whole planet using a virus that changes Transformers into mindless drones to do his bidding. The remaining Maximals manage to survive however after Optimus discovers The Oracle which reformats them into animal robot hybrids that are both mechanical and biological. This sets them on a quest to stop Megatron and bring biological and mechanical balance to Cybertron once and for all.

The series is much more narrative based than the previous as it follows a steady trajectory to its epic conclusion. The animation is much sharper, and the soundtrack is fun as hell to listen to still. The pacing is much faster as the stakes couldn’t be higher for the Maximals and all the old characters from the previous grow in interesting ways and develop into more organic people (literally in some ways). Optimus is a more hardcore and emotionally damaged leader and Megatron goes from being something of a punchline in the previous series to a far more menacing and calculating nemesis. The story touches on themes of balance, authoritarianism, PTSD, love and reunion to name a few and for a kids’ show it is, dare I say…more than meets the eye.

I absolutely loved it as a kid and I might actually love it even more as an adult, so it was shocking for me, to say the least, when I read further into the history of the show, that a lot of fans straight up rejected it back in the day.

Common complaints I came across were they didn’t like how characters, such as Ratrap especially, “changed.” They didn’t like the new bio/mechanical Maximals and couldn’t believe that Cybertron was once an organic world.

Their big reason (in just about every forum and video I saw about it)? It didn’t adhere to “canon.”

Now, I’ll start this by saying there is no objective way to critique or even not critique a story. People can like or hate something for a variety of reasons that don’t follow a strict logical pattern. Gods know I have a few questionable/divisive favorites in my catalogue that I have written about here that are based on abstract ideas and personal experiences.

(The Matrix Reloaded is still great btw)

But I will say, if you judge a mega franchise’s latest entry on how well it is supported by established canon it is, in my opinion, a flawed way to critique a work of fiction.

Canon, sometimes referred to as “lore” by fans, is most often applied and used to describe the long running back stories of franchises that stretch beyond just the main books, movies or series, or even the original narrative of the plot. Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, and to a certain extent Harry Potter, all fall into this camp of series with so many interconnected parts, with more than one main character featured in each, that fans follow along this canon like ancient monks studying scripture and history books.

And they can be just as fanatical and over zealous about it.

(I wish they were more fanatical about proper hygiene or at least deodorant...)

My problem with the ways fans often view canon is that their conceptions of what a new story should be is based entirely on the past rather than what is happening right now with the story and what themes the writer is trying express with it this time. 

They base their impressions of the story on external continuity more than the internal continuity.

Yea, the changes in a series like “Beast Machines” are jarring to say the least. Cybertron was formally an organic world like Earth? Rattrap doesn’t have confidence in himself and actually at one point sells out his comrades? Transformers can be biological now? It’s a lot to take in but when watching the story play out it’s not like these elements aren’t explained through the text of the new story.

Cybertron lost balance between its robot inhabitants and its biological life forms and its why it’s out of balance now, and Megatron is the logical progression of that inbalance. Rattrap is struggling to understand his new form, half his friends on the Maximals have been turned into drones, and the remaining team out loud say they don’t have confidence in him. He has PTSD from both the events of this story and the Beast Wars and feels insecure because of how others view him and that’s perfectly logical to not just the story but also the canon. If a fan is willing to give a story a chance they will see that the canon hasn’t actually been destroyed in much of any way and the logical progression is actually there if they simply listen to what’s going on.

(Seriously, it’s not that deep.)

Fans need to stop confusing a character achieving a franchise long arc with being “suddenly different.” In this way, criticisms of canon in new entries in long running series reveal that fans really just lack imagination to connect the dots. It would be like complaining that Luke Skywalker can’t become paranoid and make a grave mistake in judgment because people never change, nevermind the character already has changed a lot from his origins in “A New Hope” to where he was in “Return of the Jedi.”

(Oh wait, people did do that…)

But that’s not to say you have to like the new direction either. You can understand these changes and still be like “well, it’s not for me. I don’t care for a PSTD angle or a new origin for Cybertron,” but that’s whole lot different than saying the new series “rapes your childhood” or “Bastardizes the canon.” All the old canon you hold nostalgia for still exists. My love for “Beast Machines” is not harmed by the existence of newer Transformers properties that don’t meet what I look for in the series.

Too often, fans take changes to established “lore” very personally because it doesn’t fit their expectations or have the same nostalgic feelings they had before. When new entries in mega franchises occur fans often try to judge it by how much it is like what they watched before, rather what makes it different and what it is saying now. Again, you don’t have to like new directions in tone or character but consistency to established work DOES NOT equal good storytelling.

I have not been immune to this myself in the past, of course. Back in the day I wrote a 2500-plus word diatribe on “The Amazing Spider-man 2” that mostly went after how it changed the character I grew up with in a bad way and butchered the established back story I knew him by.

You know what other story doesn’t follow canon very well though? “Spider-man: Homecoming.”

(Now, hear me out...)

Spider-man in the MCU is generally agreed upon to be a good thing by fans. Both movies were big hits both critically and financially and fans often go as far as to say Tom Holland is the “definitive” Peter Parker. 

But Holland’s Spider-man differs quite a bit from the comic-book webslinger. This Spider-man does not have a spidey sense. His best friend is not Harry Osbourne but in fact a retcon of a Mile Morales character. His father figure is Tony Stark, something that never happened in the comics, instead of Uncle Ben, which no matter what way you spin it is arguably his most important relationship in the series.

His character is a reverse of traditional Peter Parker too. Where comics Peter is a reluctant hero, who if anything hates being Spider-man and the burden of his responsibility, “Homecoming” Spider-man actively seeks out responsibility and in many ways enjoys his role as the famous webslinger. In fact, his whole arc is about him earning a spot as an Avenger. He wants to be THE hero and be worthy of it. It’s completely different from what we know of Spider-man.

(He just wants Tony sempai to notice him uWu)

Now I know some fans actually do complain about this Spidey from a “canon” standpoint, but most don’t. So why did this Spider-man get a pass for many but not “The Amazing” one? Quite simply it’s because stories, as cheesy as it sounds, are about feelings and stories like “Homecoming” tell a good story that effectively make those feelings connect with the audience.

We root for this Peter Parker and his journey to becoming an Avenger and successor to Iron Man because the story is told well, the emotions feel earned, and frankly both films are fun and enjoyable.

It’s easy to complain about canon for many nerds because it’s something tangible that they can point to and make a big stink about when they don’t understand why a movie isn’t reaching them. I don’t doubt that many neckbeards genuinely hate a film like “The Last Jedi” (Hell, I’m not a big fan myself) but when those same nerds enjoy something like “The Mandalorian,” a series that has its own loose relationship with canon and establishing new rules in the series, it tells me it’s not about the “lore” to them.

(Easy, fanboys...)

I have come to understand, in my growth as a nerd, that my problems with a lot of movies and TV shows in my favorite series rarely, if ever, have anything to do with the story not meeting some arbitrary guidelines regarding canon. It has more to with the story simply not connecting with me emotionally. The story isn’t drawing me in and keeping me on its narrative path. I’m not feeling the same magic that someone else might feel enjoying it because either a) it doesn’t feel earned to me or b) it just stylistically isn’t for me.

To paraphrase a line from another mega franchise, also owned by Disney, the canon is more like guidelines than actual rules.

(Didn’t expect to see ol’ Barbosa in this write up, did ye?)

It can show you where a story comes from but it isn’t law that you strictly adhere to it. Of course, when writing a new work in a popular series you should consider what came before it but I would like writer’s the freedom to try something new and most importantly fans to be open to it. You don’t have to like it but the idea that new entries in a story MUST remain strict to the canon is bull shit. Not even the original Star Wars trilogy adhered to its own canon perfectly, as clearly the writers were in fact making it up to a certain extent as they were going along.

(hmmmm...)

And that’s ok, because some of those changes were great! Made the story better and made the conclusion stronger.

Again, you don’t have to like every new entry that tries something bold or confrontational in your favorite franchise but if writers strictly followed canon to the T we wouldn’t have things like “Homecoming,” we wouldn’t have “The Mandalorian,” and we certainly wouldn’t have my favorite Transformers series “Beast Machines.”

Canon shouldn’t be a trap for writers and it shouldn’t be a litmus test for fans digesting it. There are so many better ways to judge a story than whether or not it fits neatly into established lore. A good story is a good story, regardless of whether or not it’s supported by something as static as canon.

“Beast Machines” has its flaws here and there, but canon isn’t one of them, at least not for me. Again, if you feel that the lore is important, that’s fine, you don’t have to ignore it but I would ask you to look beyond what came before when critiquing a new story.

Otherwise, you might miss something special that comes next…

Now then... 

[carewyncromwell]

5, 13, and 20 for the potter asks?

Pro or anti Marauders?

Pro overall, but let’s break this down by characters --

Remus Lupin is my favorite male character in the entire book series. He not only reminded me of my best teachers growing up, but I felt so, so much for him as a character too. I always felt kind of marginalized and different from my peers growing up, so it’s kind of unsurprising that I’ve had a soft spot for “outcast” characters since I was very little, and Remus is no exception. I completely understood why his friends meant so much to him and therefore felt SO much for him that, in the end, he had to lose all three of them and end up alone. Even his flaws, showcased best in the Snape’s Worst Memory chapter of OOTP and especially in Deathly Hallows, only serve to make him more real and human -- it broke my heart when he considered leaving Tonks and Teddy to help the Trio with their Horcrux hunt, but Remus wanting to “bury himself in his work” (which, honestly, this was -- he was a member of the Order, after all!) rather than face his worst fear of possibly dooming another person (namely, his son) to live a life like his made perfect sense with the characterization established, however horrible and wrong of a choice it was. It made me side with Harry so much in scolding Remus, yet I also felt compassion for the feelings behind Remus’s initial impulse. And of course, I was so proud of him when he overcame that fear and stood by Tonks and got to know his son before he died. I’m still not over the fact that my bb Remus had to die, AUUUUUGH, he and Sirius and Harry should’ve lived together as one happy makeshift family togetherrrrr. DX

Peter Pettigrew...that bloody rat. >> I’m sure just about everyone feels a lot of justified resentment toward Peter for what he did to the Potters, and I definitely agree with that sentiment...but at the same time, there’s still a part of me that finds him very interesting. Mainly because...I’d love to see him at his best, now that we’ve seen him at his worst! He was a Marauder, same as Sirius, Remus, and James, and we should never forget that -- he might have been a bit of a tag-along, but none of the other three, Lily, or anyone else thought that Peter would ever have been the type to turn on his friends. McGonagall disparaged Peter for his magical talent, but she openly grieved for him when she thought Sirius had killed him. Everyone was ready to believe Sirius -- who clearly adored James -- could be the traitor, before suspecting Peter. Sirius even suspected Remus before Peter...and this is when their connection in the books is so strong that HP fans have shipped Wolfstar since POA was first published back in 1999! Even when you read the books, you can see flickers of remorse in Peter at points, if you’re reading carefully. In Goblet of Fire, Peter seems noticeably uncomfortable around the rest of Voldemort’s supporters -- his efforts to bring Voldemort back to his body really seem to be out of obligation rather than any kind of enthusiasm. And of course, as we see in Deathly Hallows, Peter even as a Death Eater still retains enough honor to hesitate when Harry reminds him that he owes him his life. Gryffindor house does preach chivalry as well as courage, and in a twisted way, one could read Peter’s “loyalty” to Voldemort not just being about desperation as his friends now want nothing to do with him, but also because Peter’s standing by the choice he made...not unlike how Percy stood by the Ministry as long as he did, rather than by his family. This doesn’t justify what Peter did at all -- he is a despicable coward who destroyed so many lives and is responsible for bringing back the Dark Wizard whose return resulted in even more deaths -- but it does give his characterization as a villain interesting nuance. There’s a well-established internal logic to how Peter behaves, one I would frankly LOVE to see more of in a future Marauders-centric property.

Sirius is arguably the most polarizing of the Marauders, but honestly? I love him to pieces. He is a very, VERY flawed character -- he’s got a real mean streak, a hot temper, and more aggression than the average person. Him encouraging Snape to “go after Remus” was an indisputably terrible, stupid, callous thing to do, not just because of the endangerment to Snape’s life, but the flagrant betrayal of Remus’s friendship. The way Sirius treated Kreacher was completely uncalled for, regardless of how much the elf reminded him of his terrible home life. Sirius also can be really immature and can get really surly and passive-aggressive when he’s upset. But despite all of this, I love Sirius anyway. In a lot of ways, Sirius reminds me of my father, who I also love a lot despite his many flaws. Sirius lacks empathy for those different from him, but he’s also the only member of his immediate family who rejected the idea of pureblood superiority and fought in the Order of the Phoenix against Voldemort. Sirius was a bully and even as an adult could be incredibly petty and mean-spirited, but he also was the first person in Harry’s life who really felt like family to him -- who he could write to for help when he was sad, afraid, or insecure. Sirius was a hot-tempered, rash person who rarely thought through the consequences of his actions, but he also would’ve done absolutely anything to protect the people he loved. He without question loved James, Lily, and Harry more than his own life. Despite being raised in a cold, hate-filled, prejudiced, unaffectionate, abusive home, Sirius understood unconditional love, and he understood his godson in a way no one else could, not just because he was such close friends with the parents he’d lost at such a young age, but because he’d lived Harry’s experience as a neglected, unloved child himself.

And now we come to the often maligned James Potter. Honestly, this guy gets such a bad rap in the fandom, almost exclusively based on Snape’s memories, and I don’t think it’s really fair. Snape is really the only person who has a sour image of James, and even if we disregard the testimonials of fellow Marauders like Sirius and Remus, people like McGonagall, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, and even Cornelius Fudge had nothing but nice things to say about James, and those people don’t have reason to speak well of James at Snape’s expense. And of course, even Snape’s perceptions are bound to have their own slant to them. Pensieve memories are just that: memories. A Pensieve is not a pocket dimension that perfectly recreates the past, hence why Slughorn was able to badly modify his memory, Hokey the house elf’s memories were tampered with by Riddle, and even in Snape’s own memory, we follow Snape throughout the memory and we’re only able to hear what the Marauders are saying because he was close by. And if we judge James solely based on his no-doubt worst moment in Snape’s Worst Memory, we’re bound to get an incomplete picture -- just as we did for Hagrid, after seeing Tom Riddle’s memory of him confronting Hagrid for supposedly opening the Chamber of Secrets. Would we judge Harry solely for Malfoy’s recollection of the Sectumsempra incident, or Hermione solely for Marietta’s recollection of the time Hermione hexed her face to read “SNEAK” across it? Of course not. James was a bully and what he did in Snape’s Worst Memory was no doubt horrible -- but this is also a young man who without hesitation gave Sirius a home after he ran away from his terrible family, who supported Remus financially when he couldn’t find work, and who selflessly put himself between Voldemort and his family just to give them a chance to escape, even though he didn’t even have his wand on him. I would frankly love to learn more about James and see more of the arc he must’ve gone through as a character for someone like Lily to have fallen in love with him and for people like Remus and Sirius to feel such strong platonic love for him themselves, if a Marauders-centric property was ever created.

Who was the bravest character in Harry Potter and why?

Oh gosh...hm...that is a real challenge. There are a lot of very brave characters! Harry, Ron, Hermione, Remus, Sirius, McGonagall, Hagrid, Dobby, Cedric...but I think I’m going to nominate Neville. While Hogwarts was taken over by Snape and the Carrows and the students were no doubt being brainwashed a la the Hitler Youth to regurgitate blood-purist talking points rather than learning anything that could defend themselves against the Dark Arts or that was even remotely true about Muggles, Neville decided to face that undeniable hopelessness -- worsened all the more by the students’ lack of independence and freedom while being housed in the castle’s walls without their families and the threat of losing both their families and all hope for a future constantly dangled over their heads -- head-on and reform Dumbledore’s Army with Ginny and Luna to stand against it. Then, even as his group’s members got picked off one by one and were forced to hide in the Room of Requirement, he stuck to his guns and kept resisting because he knew -- as a Pureblood -- he was in a position he could use to fight for others and wasn’t afraid to stand up for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves and others. It was only when his grandmother was forced to flee and the Carrows realized that Neville was too much of a threat to keep in check that he went into hiding himself. Then, when everyone thought Harry was dead and many others would’ve despaired, Neville fearlessly and fiercely stuck both by Harry, his parents’ memory, and his own convictions and refused Voldemort’s offer to join him, even keeping his head enough after getting burned by the flaming Sorting Hat to fulfill his promise to Harry and kill Nagini. And this was the kid who people said shouldn’t have been Sorted into Gryffindor at all, in his first year! What a beautiful transformation.

Favourite Death Eater?

*cringes* Mmm...well, character-wise, I’d say I’ve always found Lucius a very compelling character, in the books. The Malfoy family in general struck me as interesting anti-villains, since they are indisputably unpleasant, prejudiced, awful people, but their one silver lining to me is how deeply and sincerely they love each other. That aspect is really lost in movie!Lucius, since the films try to portray him much more two-dimensionally bad and that interpretation has since colored the fandom’s view of Lucius as an abusive father when there is NO textual evidence of that in the books. And I kind of find it a shame, because as much as I adore Jason Isaacs in his role, it did serve to make Lucius a bit less complex and interesting in the films than he was in the books. Admittedly as well I have a bit more of a soft spot for Lucius after taking on the challenge of writing the guy and his family a redemption arc in my way-too-long AU fic Harry Potter and the Lack of Lamb Sauce. XD

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