#and they stop and look shocked and taken aback and terrified. <3 <3 <3

[familyabolisher]

Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom, dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini

[featherandferns]

JJ smut with prompt 19 plsss

19. Make me.

Hi lovely! Sorry for the delay and thank you for your patience! This is a little short but I hope you like it <3

Content warnings: sexual content

storeroom - prompt 19

“You’re such an asshole!” you seethe at JJ.

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, petty to the max. “And you aren’t?”

“Why can’t you take your job seriously?” you hiss. “They’re actually paying a decent wage and folks here are paying a lotta money for a decent meal, and you’re slacking on the job.”

“You’re not my fucking manager, okay?” JJ snarls, stalking towards you. “You don’t getta tell me what to do and what not to do. You’re a waitress, alright? So you better pucker up princess and pull the stick from out of your ass.”

“Watch your fucking mouth blondie,” you spit.

You square up to him as if you could lay him out in a second on the storeroom floor. Clearly sending the two of you to top up on supplies for the function tomorrow, after hours, wasn’t the smartest move from your supervisor.

JJ Maybank was a dickhead. He seemed to know which buttons to push with you to have you foaming at the mouth and blowing steam out your ears. He seemed to enjoy pushing them too. Did so until you were at your breaking point with him and his stupid face.

“What? You want me to stop putting you in your place?”

“I want you to stop talking full-stop, so I can get maybe a moment of peace in this Goddamn restaurant,” you bite back.

JJ smirks, cold and cruel. “Oh yeah? Make me, princess.”

You glower at his face. His stupid, handsome, gorgeous face.

You can’t say why, or when, or even how, but you and JJ are suddenly kissing. He seems taken aback, stumbling forward, pushing your back against the precariously balanced boxes of napkins and tea lights. Pulling back, eyes wide and mouth somewhat agape in shock, you and JJ regard each other a moment. Eyes flicking over features; breathing heavy and disjointed. There’s a moment where you both seem to debate whether or not this is the right thing; debate saying this out loud; then simultaneously agree on one common thought. Fuck it. You’d always thought JJ was kind of attractive. Well, more than kind of, but there was no way in hell you’d ever tell him so.

The make-out that follows is filthy and messy and confusing. JJ ends up with his back against the wall with you pressing against him. You both groan as his hard-on rocks against your crotch.

“This is a bad idea,” JJ says. His hand creeps under your shirt, messing to undo your bra.

“Definitely,” you pant. Your eyes are fixated on his lips and you can’t help but kiss him again, sinking your teeth leisurely into his lower lip for just a second.

“Fuck,” JJ groans. He yanks your shirt over your head and you shuck off your unfastened bra. Impatient, JJ palms at your breasts. The fact that both of you are on the clock, in the restaurant’s storeroom seems to be of no concern to either of you. “We should probably stop.”

“Probably,” you mumble. You unzip the fly of his work pants (they’re so fucking tight on him it’s almost criminal how good they make him look) and slip a hand hastily into his boxers. JJ stammers out a moan as you rub at his erection. Something shoots through you, be it attraction or hate. The two lay on a thin line.

“I don’t even like you,” JJ stammers.

You look up at him with that. Hooded eyes and swollen lips, he’s rosy cheeked and overtly horny. Squeezing at the head, making him moan, you can’t help but smirk.

“You sure about that, blondie?”

JJ stares down at you. His white button-up is still fastened and it’s unfair. You want to see him – all of him. Nobody should be allowed to be this attractive and this much of an asshole. The world is full of cruelties.

You continue working him with your hand, grinning malevolently when you feel him throb under your hold, already getting close. Men are so fucking simple.

JJ sighs. There’s a twitch of a grin to his lips, mirroring yours, and there’s this thrilling, terrifying thought that comes to your mind as he takes you in, like a predator observing its prey.

He’s going to wreck me.

[boom-fanfic-a-latta]

Blur (Part 3) (THE FUN BEGINS)

[Fic under readmore]

This was obviously an Akuma.

That was Marinette’s first thought upon taking in the blue-and-yellow figure that had just crashed its way into her room.

Her second thought was that she needed to immediately get the fox, Tails, away from said Akuma—especially since he seemed to recognize them, from how shocked his reaction was.

“Sonic?!” he repeated with a gasp, reaching out toward the figure in confusion.

“Tails?! Is that you?!” the Akuma—Sonic?—exclaimed brightly, his face lighting up as he noticed the fox. “I was looking everywhere for you, buddy!”

Before Marinette could even blink, he’d suddenly zoomed across the floor in a visible blur—did he have super speed?!—and was holding Tails by the shoulders. Leaving behind a faint afterimage of where he’d been standing just prior.

“You’re not hurt or anything, are you?! Please tell me you’re alright, I was so worried—” As he spoke, he kept zipping around the fox, leaving more afterimages as he did. Each one would fade after a couple of seconds, but it was still enough to be a bit overwhelming to watch.

“I—I’m fine, Sonic, but—” Tails looked a little disturbed by the over-the-top way the other was acting (and Marinette couldn’t blame him, something about this almost felt creepy). “What happened to you?! Why do you look like…” 

“Oh, good…I was really worried, y’know? I just couldn’t stop myself from being afraid that you were—”

The fox shook himself free of the Akuma’s grip, taking a step back. “Seriously, Sonic, what happened?! You’re acting like you thought I was dead or something!”

“Sonic” chuckled, stepping back a little himself and waving off Tails’ concern. “I’m alright, little bro—after all, I found you!”

“That…that doesn’t answer the question, Sonic! What—“

The Akuma was suddenly right next to the fox again, and held up a finger, cutting him off. “Actually, my name’s Blur now,” he corrected, shaking his head. “Not Sonic. Not anymore.”

Tails looked taken aback by this, staring at “Blur” in fearful confusion.

“Sonic, what—what do you mean?!” he stammered, taking another shaky step backward. “Why are you—you’re not acting like—what happened?!”

“Well, this guy offered to help make me fast enough to get away and find you,” Blur explained, smiling as if nothing was wrong, still zipping around to another spot every time he paused and leaving another afterimage each time. “All I gotta do for him in return is get him some things called the ‘Miraculous’…seems simple enough, right?”

The fox gave a sharp inhale when the Akuma mentioned the Miraculous, and Marinette could see his expression change to one of horror as the realization seemed to slowly set in.

“The person who talked to you…Sonic, was his name Hawk Moth?” Tails asked, his voice shaky.

“Yeah! …Wait, how’d you know?” Blur looked a little taken aback by this, his brow furrowing. “Also, I told you, it’s Blur.”

The fox gave a terrified glance back at Marinette, obviously uncertain how to react to this information.

“Run,” she mouthed back to him, tilting her head in the direction of the broken window.

He looked unsure of this for a second, but another glance at Blur seemed to make up his mind, and he nodded. In one fluid motion, Tails suddenly curled up into a ball—how could he do that?!—and sped across the floor and out the opening in the glass.

Blur stared after him in shock, seemingly too stunned to react.

“…Tails, WAIT!” he finally managed to cry out, moving to try and follow the fox—but Marinette grabbed hold of the Akuma’s wrist before he could leave.

“LET GO OF ME!” he screamed, trying to wrench himself free. “He—he was right there, why—why is he—” Abruptly, he froze, a familiar butterfly-shaped glow now surrounding his face.

Marinette felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight. Hawk Moth.

Blur seemed to be listening intently to whatever the villainous Miraculous user was telling him, his expression morphing into something unreadable. It was only a few seconds before the mask of light faded, and then he turned to look up at the girl with disbelief.

“You…you don’t want me to find him, do you?” he accused, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “Well, I WON’T LET YOU STOP ME!” He suddenly pulled away with renewed vigor, and Marinette found that her hand was empty, another afterimage of “Blur” the only thing left where she’d just been gripping.

What had just…

She looked up at the Akuma, who was now glaring at her from the windowsill.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my little brother. Again.”

And with that, he zoomed off out the window, leaving a streak of blue light and a final afterimage behind him.

[nonamesoaname]

Uh probably gonna write something but this is just a convo. Spoilers probably for durge so like keep your eyes where you want them I guess.

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It was almost close to dawn, probably 2 or 3 in the morning. The light flickering from the fire was comforting but nothing seemed to calm her more than the cliff side as she dangled her feet over the waves below. With no one around her the dark thoughts and urges seemed to quiet down though the problem behind her eye was pressing. It didn't scare her as much as the joy she felt when her hands were covered in blood.

She looked down at her hands clean but the memory was seared into her mind. Alfira gouged and dead underneath her feet. The way she stood there motionless with her eyes nonexistent as Miv’s brain rattled with how pretty the corpse was. It was terrifying. She was scared of going to sleep and scared of what these thoughts meant for her. She didn’t even know who she was before all of this.

She shuddered before feeling cold fingers traced up her neck a familiar weight behind her.

“Well my blood thirsty friend, I was hoping to have a couple more tastes before you succumbed to the edge,”Astarion’s silky voice behind her as he sat further up next to her. Where there would be warmth was still as comfy as she sighed looking at the waters below.He gave a bottle of what seemed to be wine as he took a gulp of his own.

“You know we will have to be up in a couple of hours and I believe going on adventures with alcohol in our system is not a good look.” Miv said looking at the bottle before doing the opposite of what she just said,��But what the hell it’s not like we are making great impressions anyway.”

Astarion shrugged with a sly smile,”If anything it’ll loosen us up to be more forthcoming in our conversations. Who wants to live life barred by a sober mind. Plus you naive little thing with a little sleep wine isn’t going to stay in our systems for long and maybe even some fun between us.” He gave a mischievous side eye look to her as he moved his hand up her covered thigh.

“If it’s okay with you..as much as I want you to touch me. I’m quite frankly not in the right headspace.” Miv replied as Astarion quickly placed the hand that was on her thigh to his mouth in a playful shock.

“Oh my, my heart hurts from the rejection. How will I ever live a day without the loving embrace of you darling? But oh well another time.” He moved his hand down to grab his drink and take another sip seemingly a bit taken aback,”Well this wasn’t all the fun I was expecting but I’m glad I was able to snag a good fine red wine for my refined palate in our earlier escapade.”

Miv nodded, taking another swig. Astarion playfully poured at the lack of response. He nudged her wanting a reaction from his new plaything.

“Is what happened the other night bothering you? It’s not like we haven’t killed anyone before. What makes her death so different? Or is it the fact you didn’t even attempt to hide it and just aired out your dirty laundry in front of everyone? Not very sneaky of you.”

She sighed. He wasn’t going to stop talking was he? “Yes, I am bothered. She was innocent and I was asleep and I did something disturbing. I needed everyone to know because what’s the point of hiding it? Secrets won’t do any good.” She replied matter of factly to each question, “What if it happens again? What if it’s someone closer to me? I’ve been saying that I have these dark thoughts..these dark impulses. What if I can’t control myself?”

She looked to the water underneath her tears brimming in her eyes before looking the other way quickly wiping them away. Silence lingered between them as she dangled her legs again over the water. “Kill me if I were to hurt anyone. I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to our group and I couldn’t imagine if…” She cut herself short there was no reason to be specific. If anything happened to astarion because of her. It would be the end of her.

“Of course darling, I couldn’t have you ruin this pretty face. Though I may be a little late if you were to uh attack some members of our rag tag group of weirdos.” Astarion lifted a hand fancily, “I’ll make sure to make it quick and have a good nice drink as well. Wouldn’t want that good blood to go to waste.”

Miv covered her feelings. Of course he replied swiftly at the mention of killing her. It would be easy for him..she already knew that her feelings couldn’t be reciprocated but the reminder stung. “Good, at least something good will come out of it.”

He nodded quickly standing up as he drank the rest of the bottle. He offered a hand to her, “Since I made you promise. I’ll make sure to help you not fulfill your murderous sleepwalking. Will you be able to sleep now?”

Miv nodded, feeling the tiredness seeping in as she rubbed her eyes. It was a welcomed feeling that she hadn’t felt in days. She gently placed her hand in his pulling herself up. She picked up her empty bottle as she moved to put it away looking at it closely before sighing.

He let go of her hand now shooing her to bed as he followed along with a sly smile, “I need to do something real quick and I will follow suit.”

He made his way over to his tent looking at her as she moved the covers of her head. He retrieved a calming powder from his pocket placing it back among his things. A frown settled on his lips as he looked over to her now sleeping. He settled down on the front of his tent looking at the books he’s collected before pulling one out watching the sleeping members carefully as he stayed up.

[komoreangel]

𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐫𝐞𝐪)

pairing: scaramouche x secretly-badass!so

scenario: on the outside, you look like the most innocent person in the world. however, you are actually the last person anyone wants to piss off, but that’s why scaramouche likes you so much. 

request: AAA i saw that ur requests r open so!! can u write abt how scara has an s/o thats cute and innocent looking but is actually a scary person if u tick them off? they also like to protect him when they have the chance to and is very soft to him !!! hopefully this isnt too much to ask 😖 thank u if u do write it!

reply: oooo im actually thinking of making a separate work of this because a lot of people seem to like scara with a s/o that has an innocent facade....brain gears are going brrrr  

genre: people underestimating scara’s s/o and him being angry but thEN y/n looks at them and theyre like shit :) 

you considered yourself a pretty soft person

you liked things like flowers, sleepover dates, handholding (!!!!) 

if that made you ‘innocent’ then whatever

however

however 

if someone threatened you or your boyfriend

ahaha

run

that sweet demeanor of yours was gone 

oUT THE WINDOW

like for example

one sunny afternoon you two were on a date

it was one of the rare days he gets off from his harbinger duties

and he decided to take you to starsnatch cliff, in mondstatd

a bit far but he wanted to show you the cecilias because you’ve never been to an area where they naturally grow

so you’re walking with him, stopping to look at mondstatd’s natural life 

when suddenly you stumble upon a drunk 

you don’t know why someone would be all the way out here

drunk of all things

but suddenly they’re reaching for you and you back away 

basically they’re catcalling you so you make your way back to scara

unaware that the drunken man has followed you 

as you kneel down to pick another flower he tries to pull you back with the arm

you let out a yelp in surprise 

scaramouche turns, how dare this scum even touch you, he will make sure this man never sees the light of-

surprisingly, you start to laugh

scara is taken aback for a few seconds and then grins 

there it is

the man is also shocked, staggering 

“did you really think you were actually going to get away with that?” 

in a second you’ve grabbed his arm and are holding it against his back 

“go on. continue. what were you about to say to me?” 

he stutters on his words

“that’s what i thought.” you let him go and push his chest so he falls on the floor

“don’t let me catch you near me ever again. that’s a promise”

the look in your eyes terrifies him to his core 

the man runs for the hills in the opposite direction and you turn back to scara

meanwhile your boyfriend is just looking on with a shocked smile

he’s not one to simp on main

but he thought that was lowkey hot ngl 

“ah, y/n.” he laughs and places a hand on your waist 

“do that again for me sometime darling, hm?” 

of course as soon as you’re facing him your shy demeanor comes back with a vengeance 

your face turns beet red, his words the source of your flustered expression  

he loves how you go from deadly to absolutely adorable in seconds

although ofc you like to fluster him too 

he might start blushing just from you offering him a homecooked meal with that beautiful smile of yours 

or if you’re near him while he’s battling someone

his intention was to get you as far away as possible

but his opponent had caught him off guard and had him cornered

with a swift kick of your feet, scara’s enemy is on the floor, shirt pinned at the tip of your sword 

“run. now.” 

as soon as they’re gone you’ve knelt on the ground near scara, who sat in shock as he watched you body them 

“are you okay? are you injured anywhere? do you need me to heal you-” 

you’re cut off by him kissing you 

you break apart and stare at him

in his head hes like haha i kissed them speechless

and then you just-

KEEP ON BANDAGING HIS WOUNDS

like usually he would think it’s nice

BUT HE WAS IN THE MOOD TO KISS >:((

but overall

he just thinks you’re so amazing

10/10 keep doing what you’re doing 

a/n: heyoo i really enjoyed writing this one. it could be because im a scara simp but fdjghkndjgsl who knows- anyway congrats to all venti havers!!! i’m going to be wishing for venti later today and will post the results hehehe (plus good luck to childe savers and venti wanters ily <3) 

[smutty-ki113r]

🎠Laughing Jack🎠|| Carousel

Fluff one-shot x gn!reader— only warning is angst (2.6k)

Inspired by: Melanie Martinez

After months of endless nagging you finally convinced Laughing Jack to let you visit his amusement park. He had claimed it was too scary and you would get creeped out but you weren’t one to take no for an answer.

Giving you a piece of candy so the trans-dementional trip wouldn’t be too hard on you. Tasting the sour lemon taffy he gave you and making a tense face as the flavor pulled at your taste buds and stuck to your teeth.

Your head getting dizzy as your surroundings warped and his room became red and white vertical stripes. Blinking a couple times as he leaned into your face, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” You told him, almost falling back at how close he was. As soon as your perception adjusted you looked for the exit to the tent you were inside. “Onward!” You said excited, marching comedically to the entrance flap.

“This isn’t exactly the safest place”, he called from behind, catching up with ease because his legs were so long. “You need to stay close to me at all times” you smiled at him, it’s not like you were complaining, “got that?”

Giving him a keen nod you stepped out of the grand tent. Squinting at the sky, which was tainted a dusty gray, swirly clouds amber of scattered around in the background. The carnival was beautifully revolting, with littered attractions as far as the eye could see.

The place looked somewhat abandoned, if you get past the faint cries of children, from their souls stored in toys. Rides that once colored a vibrant red had paint chipped, specks of dull metal flaked over the bars.

Game stands broken down and leaning unsteadily, disturbing toys with eyes and limbs missing hanging from the top. It looked like it might fall down at any minute, but you couldn’t help but notice the newer looking boxes of supplies lying around next to the stands.

Fairy lights hung from the tilted signs, decorating the food court. A fresh trail had been made between the rides.

It warmed your heart that he had made subtle efforts to fix the place up, he certainly didn’t think you would notice.

Looking back at his nervous smile, Jack was terrified you would hate the place. You thought all but the opposite, giving him a big grin. Your expression relaxed him, assuring him that you wouldn’t think he was a freak and leave. His whole demeanor shifting, making him more comfortable and even enthusiastic.

Straightening out and giving you jazz hands, “what are you waiting for?” putting one hand on his hip to motion you to the park with the other “lets go have fun!”

Following behind you with a giggle as you approached the carnival games. The ring toss looking somewhat appealing in between the other activities, so you told him you wanted to play.

“Basically you get 5 rings, if you get at least 3 in the pins you win a prize” he explained.

“Alright alright lemme try” you waved him off, snatching the rings and giving one a toss. It missed, you brushed it off. The second one made it in and Jack gave a little cheer, it still wasn’t enough.

Hyperfocusing on the pin in the middle make a soft throw upward, the edge hitting the top of the pin and falling to the side. You gave a groan, calculating your last two throws.

Your forth throw made the pin to the side, and you only had one more try left. Aiming for another pin at the side to release, the ring clanging against it and falling to the floor.

You went to look at Jack with a frown but he wore a happy expression, “you won!” He exclaimed. Confused you turned back, finding the ring you had just tossed around the last pin. You were completely certain you had missed it, racking your mind for an explanation as jack handed you a small purple bunny that was missing an arm.

Realizing that Jack had manipulating the game so you could win, throwing him a knowing glance. He just happened to be looking away, whistling guiltily.

Squeezing the bunny you moved onto the next game, it was ballon dart toss. The stand had pale red and black balloons scattered across a board. Excitement was written all over his face, you cocked an eyebrow in question.

“It’s a two person game!” He said, “whoever pops more balloons wins!”

He handed you four darts and kept four for himself, “you can go first” he motioned with a grin. Pacing the dart in two fingers a couple times before throwing at a balloon. Giving a groan when you missed and waiting for him to go.

Being as skilled as he was he managed to land one in a bullseye. “Oh it’s on” you dared, getting one point yourself. LJ got the second one too, staring at you intensely as you evened out the score.

Giving him a small smile as the dart broke the surface of the balloon with a sharp noise “pop goes the weasel right?” You laughed, referring to his famous song.

He looked at you almost in shock, taken aback by your joke. Shaking himself into reality he broke out in a light blush, a part of him touched, as if you were accepting him for who he was.

Too distracted by your eyes on him to play the game with concentration. Missing the third one with a growl he waited for you to take your turn, which you lost. It was the last point and Jack was a shoe in, so obviously he took the victory.

You were happy for him, passing along a “good job!” as he retrieved the big brown teddy bear that was half his size, and all of yours. It was missing an eye, thin stands of makeshift fur pulled out and a silky red bow around it’s neck.

“Here” he said, dangling it in front of you.

“For me?” You asked, “but you won”, trying to look up at him but the bear blocked most of your view, only letting you see above his nose.

“Just take it” he practically pushed it into you, making you blow out an oof.

Holding it to the side at the torso with one hand you broke out in a grin “thank you for the plushie” you said, hugging him from the side and squeezing his torso “but I want you to be my teddy” you laughed. He looked incredibly flustered, frozen as you broke away.

“You’re big and tall” you tippy toed up to give his shoulder pad feathers a ruffle “and fluffy”

The man looked like he was about to faint so you decided to knock it off, laughing and telling him you wanted to go on the carousel next. Quickly, LJ happily led you too it, skipping in front of you (mostly to hide his blush).

Standing at the controls to cue a round, watching you walk around to find a pretty horse. Given, all of them had dark spots and chipped paint, but they worked all the same. Leaving the bear on another horse and climbing onto a white one that had a yellow saddle, intricate lacy designs patterned on the sides. Royal blue reigns across it’s chest and a lion on a crest.

It was beautiful, and you traced your fingers on the drawing. It must have been stunning, but the weathering of time and agony had gotten to it. A painful reminder of what was, a mere reflection of the chipping away of a joyful being.

Prying away from your thoughts as you felt the vibrations of Jack stepping onto the walkway- with one of his big smiles. Even after everything, he still wore a smile. It made you want to tear up, he really needed all the love he could get.

He was too tall to get on a horse, so he just stood by you. His big hand gracing the golden pole and holding on, watching as you peeked up at him. Even though his eyes were constantly bright he displayed something…deeper. It was a sort of shine, a sparkle if you will, luminosity glazed over in such a way that one can only get lost in its vastness.

The looped music in the background was secondary as you rose up and down with the horse, giving Jack a little smile and thanking him for bringing you here. “I’m having a lot of fun with you” you noted.

“Well of course you are! It’s a carnival” he said with joy.

“No I mean with you” you clarified “you’re pretty great Jack”. This time he didn’t avoid your gaze, his mouth open slightly, not knowing how to react to the sincerity of the compliment.

The ride slowly came to a stop, and you were feeling slightly tingly. Maybe it was the air, or the loss of focus. “How about a roller coaster?” You dared, to which he gave a tense face.

“Those are pretty broken, you’ll probably die riding one and that’s not what we want” he said, stepping off the carousel. “How about some cotton candy instead?”

You nodded your head vigorously, following him in the pursuit for the fairy floss, the bear falling behind forgotten. Passing by more unused rides that had long past rusted and a house of mirrors to get to the food court.

Jack humming happily as he dipped a paper cone into the bowl of revolving fibers of sugar. Whipping up a swirly pink and blue cotton candy and handing it to you with a proud smile.

He went to make another treat until you spoke, “I’m not that hungry so we can share” you proposed. “If you want”

“Are you sure?” He asked, concerned that you didn’t have much appetite. “Do you want some candy or maybe a funnel cake?”

You shook him off, taking a bite out of the cloud-like dessert. It was absolutely delicious, honeyed and saccharine on your tongue in a blend of flavor you had never tasted had before.

Soft as it disintegrated onto your mouth, leaving behind a remanence of something too sweet. Bringing it up to Jack, who was so tall you had to extend your arm fully to get it to his mouth.

He simply laughed at your struggle, taking a bite before giving you a thin smile and taking it from your hand. Sitting down at a bench so that you could both share comfortably.

By the time the candy had finished you noticed little bits of the silky texture stuck on his nose. Painfully stifling a laugh you turned away.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with a genuine smile.

When you didn’t answer his tone changed, “what’s so funny huh?” he sounded a bit angered.

Hiccuping through your laughter you faced him, leaning in real close to his face, enough so that you could feel the heat emanating from it; taking a bite of the pink woven candy on his nose and holding it in your teeth.

His face went red at the sight, embarrassed that he had cotton candy on his nose. Well, that and for a moment he thought you were going to kiss him.

Noticing your hands were all sticky you asked him if there was a sink somewhere. After both of you washed your hands you sat back down at the bench.

The sky was going dark, the poofs of dusty cloud fading in with the night but still managing to remain visible. You heard a whirr as Jack turned on all the rides at the carnival, lighting the whole thing up.

You sat in awe, a mere spectator in the empty yet live amusement park. Admiring the music that added to the ambiance, watching Jack approach you.

“Wanna take a walk?” He asked, but there was something…off. LJ seemed nervous as you got up and walked next to him.

He had been thinking about it for a while now, probably even before he brought you to the carnival. Even though he had washed the gooey candy from his hands they were still sticky, but it was from sweat. Giving you side glances as you paced the trail with him.

Debating to himself whether or not he should do it, if you would hate him for it. Telling himself that he would regret it if he didn’t, but thinking about the potential negative reactions you could give.

Passing the carousel once again as you noticed the usually loud and happy clown was silent, lost in thought as he stared into the distance, his lips forming a tensing line.

Wondering if he was ok, but brining up the topic might make him uneasy. Perhaps you being there at his haunted amusement park was ticking him off, or if you taking that cotton floss off his nose was too much, or if you were pushing your luck, or worse what if you triggered hi-

All thoughts faded from your mind the moment you felt a slow, shaky hand grasp onto yours. You had to look to where he held you because he was so gentile you thought it was the wind. Holding onto you softly enough that it felt like a feather, somehow still creating a little pocket of warmth between you.

A glowing thump of heat pulsing inside your chest, happiness digging into your cells and giving you the confidence to squeeze his hand.

He let out a sharp inhale at the feel, still avoiding your gaze as he relaxed into your touch. Not daring to move his hand too much or he might risk ruining the moment, afraid of hurting you with his claws.

Approaching the Ferris wheel he finally spoke, “this is probably the one ride that won’t break”, not a peep about holding you. “Do you want to go on?”

You finally caught his gaze, absolutely melting at the smile in his eyes. Responding with a ‘yes’ and letting him open the door for you. Sustaining his grip with you as he helped you on, not letting go even after you sat.

The cart wasn’t exactly small, but with a guy the size of Jack it was pretty compacted. It’s not like you minded, the lack of space gave you an excuse to bunch up alongside him. The feathers from his pads tickling your face as you rested on him.

Watching the view as the cart took you higher and higher, it was perfect. The evening set in the rich obscurity of the night, lights of the festival blinking as if they had a life of their own. The bulbs on the stands making z’s as they illuminated the red and white drapes of the far off tents.

Jack held your hand with such care and caress, you gave him a reassuring press to let him know it was ok. He was so enveloped with the passionate act that he squeezed as well. Letting you feel all the dips and curves of his hand. Clutching onto you, as if you might disappear too.

Facing him to cup his cheek with your free hand, caressing him and tucking a stand of hair behind his ear. Trailing your thumb across his skin and feeling him lean into your touch, swearing that between the lines on the pad of your finger there was a tear that you had wiped away.

Getting lost in the breaths you shared as you inched closer to his lips, giving him a second of warmth longer to prove that you weren’t going anywhere.

[mycoolwritingcorner]

Buried Feelings: Facing Love at Last   Chapter 3: The Confession

After hours of planning, tossing around ideas that involved flowers and chocolates and every other romantic gesture under the sun, Ami decided it would be better to keep things simple. After school she would simply go up to Makoto and tell her exactly how she felt. Just like ripping off a bandage.

"Real romantic, Ami." She thought to herself.

The day seemed to drag on for an eternity before the last bell finally rang and Ami went out into the hallway in search of Makoto. Due to them normally going home together anyway Ami knew that finding her shouldn't prove too difficult.

Once Ami found her they began their walk home as normal. Partly because Ami wanted to be a bit further away from others before she confessed her feelings, and partly because she was desperate to put this off, even if just for a few moments longer.

Once they had made their way to a relatively deserted sidewalk, however, Ami decided it was time to make her move.

"I have something to tell you." The two girls said simultaneously. Ami was a bit taken aback by this. What could Makoto possibly have to tell her?

"Y-you go first." The bluenette stammered out.

"Okay." Makoto began, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I know you weren't helping Rei with schoolwork last night." As if Ami's heart didn't already feel like it was about to burst out of her chest, this certainly didn't help. "And I know it's petty of me to be jealous of you wanting to talk through your problems with someone other than me but I just didn't understand why you wouldn't at the very least be honest with me and then I started thinking about, like, what if the reason you wanted to talk to Rei about it and not me was because the problem you were having was something to do with me and nothing to do with what happened with Galaxia and I got really worried because you're, like, my best friend and I can't think of what it is I could've possibly done that would have done this to you but I'm sorry and please tell me what it is so I can fix it."

After the run on sentence to end all run on sentences Makoto finally remembered to breathe. Ami was shocked. She didn't realize that she had made Makoto feel this way. Not to mention the fact that Makoto apparently considered Ami to be her best friend (Ami gave the same title to Makoto but neither one of them had ever properly verbalized it). Ami knew that she had to make this right.

"You're right, Mako." Ami started, "It does have something to do with you." Ami could see Makoto start to tense up upon hearing that. "But" Ami continued, "it is also partly related to what happened with Galaxia."

Makoto looked at Ami confused, "What do you mean?"

Ami took another deep breath before continuing, "There's been something I've wanted to tell you for a long time, Mako. But every time I stopped myself, I buried my feelings deeper and deeper, and I pressed forward. But… after what happened with Galaxia… after we… died, something in me snapped. I couldn't do it anymore. Dying, watching you die, and thinking that I would never get to tell you it just… it did something to me." Ami was avoiding eye contact with Makoto like her life depended on it, all the while her hands fidgeted more and more, "And so these last few weeks it's like I've been ripping myself in half. On the one hand I feel like I have to tell you because I'm terrified of losing the chance, but on the other I feel like I can't because I'm terrified of what will happen if I do."

Looking up at her tall friend, Ami could see that her anxious look had been replaced by a slightly different one, one of both intrigue and concern. She could tell her fellow soldier was gripping on to every word that she said, and so she continued.

"That's why I wanted to talk to Rei last night. To ask her what it is that I should do. And I'm going to follow her advice." Upon saying that, Ami stepped forward and took Makoto's hand in her own, still avoiding eye contact, however. "Mako I… I have been in love with you since we were both fourteen years old. And I know you probably don't feel the same but I just… I couldn't keep hiding it from you." Ami waited for a response, but one never came. She looked up at her friend to see her eyes welling up with tears. "Mako?" Ami asked, concerned for her friend. Before Ami could even process it, Makoto ripped her hand out of Ami's and bolted down the street away from her. "Mako, wait!" Was all Ami managed to say before her friend disappeared out of sight.

Ami simply stood there for a moment, the shock of what just happened holding her in place, before the reality of the situation slowly washed over her. And as it did, Ami felt tears begin to roll down from her eyes as she ran in the opposite direction towards her home and away from the rest of the world, cursing herself the whole way.

…

"Mako I… I have been in love with you since we were both fourteen years old. And I know you probably don't feel the same but I just… I couldn't keep hiding it from you."

Makoto couldn't believe what she was hearing. Ami was in love with her? Ami had been in love with her for years? And this whole time she'd just kept it hidden from her? The Guardian of Thunder felt a rush of emotions overwhelm her, her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest, the world around her started to get blurry. It took her a second to realize that was because she was tearing up after hearing Ami's confession. Her eyes were clear enough, however, for her to see Ami's own staring up at her after she hadn't responded to her friend yet. Eyes that betrayed a certain vulnerability, it was clear that Ami felt like she was putting everything on the line here, but Mako just couldn't give her a response, her mouth wouldn't move, and even if it could, Makoto wouldn't know what to say.

"Mako?" Ami finally said upon looking up and seeing Makoto's clearly distressed face.

As if that was the magic word to break Makoto out of her petrification, she immediately ripped her hand out of Ami's and bolted down the street. She didn't know where she was running to, only that she was running away. Running away from Ami, and her own feelings. It didn't work, however, as she felt as though a storm were swirling inside her, appropriate given her title as the Guardian of Thunder. She knew she needed to talk to someone about this.

--

And that is where we will leave chapter 3. Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I promise the next one will make up for it.

But please, let me know what you guys think! Comments, likes, reblogs, etc. are of course all greatly appreciated.  

And come back next time for chapter 4: Intervention.

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[bex-la-get]

The Choices We Make (Ethan x f!MC): Part 4

Book: Open Heart (AU)  Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Natalie Cusack

Word count: 2200

Summary: Apologies are made, lives are changed, and little Ben learns the truth.

Rating: T

Author’s Note: I cannot thank you all enough for your wonderful words for this series as a whole. Thank you for your support, your encouragement, your feedback, and your love. I’m so grateful for all of you. Just the epilogue is left after this... it feels weird knowing this little series is coming to a close so soon. It’s been quite an adventure telling this story; I hope you’ve enjoyed it. 💙

And of course, my everlasting love and gratitude to @jerzwriter​ for pre-reading this for me. You’re amazing and I treasure you to the ends of the earth, my friend. Thank you. 💙

Elizabeth nearly burst into tears of relief when Ethan and Natalie told her they would take Ben in after her passing. She had barely slept the night before, anxious and terrified they would say no; that Ethan wouldn’t want to have anything to do with his son.

Instead, her fears were quelled quickly when Ethan pulled her into a reassuring hug, promising that everything would be okay.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as they pulled apart. “I’m sorry for my reaction yesterday and the things I said. And I’m sorry for ever making you think I wouldn’t want to be involved in Ben’s life.”

“I’m sorry too,” she repeated. “I’m sorry for not telling you and for the way you did end up finding out. And I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

He shook his head and smiled kindly. “All is long forgiven, Liz. Whatever you need for however long you have, we’re here for you.” Natalie matched his smile and nodded in agreement.

“Thank you, both of you,” Elizabeth said. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“He’s family,” Nat said matter-of-factly. “You both are.” She glanced up at Ethan and smiled as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “We take care of our family,” she said, looking back at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth sniffled and wiped some stray tears away then looked at Ethan apologetically. “I-- I haven’t told him you’re his father, yet. I wanted to wait until you were ready.”

Ethan’s face paled and he took a deep breath. Nat squeezed his hand that was resting on her shoulder for reassurance and he nodded. “I’m ready.”

Elizabeth smiled and led them further into the hotel room she and Ben had been staying in. They found the little boy playing with a rocket toy in his bedroom and Ethan’s heart tightened. Ben really did look just like him. God, please let him get through this without crying.

Natalie stood back and watched as Elizabeth led Ethan over to little Ben and the two of them sat on the ground, next to him. “Ben, darling,” Elizabeth said.

“Hi, Mama,” Ben said, still distracted by his toy.

“Hello, darling,” she replied, smiling. “Ben, you remember my friend Dr. Ramsey; you met him yesterday.”

“Hi Ben,” Ethan said, a gentle tone in his voice.

“Hi,” Ben replied, shyly. He had stopped playing with the toy and was watching Ethan curiously out of the corner of his eye.

“Darling,” Elizabeth continued, “Dr. Ramsey- Ethan… he’s not just an old friend, my love. He’s-” she glanced at Ethan one more time for confirmation and he nodded, resolutely, “-he’s your father, Ben.”

Little Ben looked at Ethan with growing curiosity. All three adults in the room watched with bated breath as Ben placed his rocket toy down and made his way over to Ethan. When he was standing in front of him, little Ben tentatively reached out towards Ethan, placing a small hand on his cheek, feeling the scratchiness of his beard beneath his little fingers. Ben’s bright blue eyes scanned Ethan’s face as if looking for answers to an unasked question, with Ethan’s heart pounding in his chest the entire time.

Finally, after what felt like forever, little Ben smiled at Ethan, then threw his arms around him in a hug. Ethan was taken aback by the young boy’s reaction but only for a brief moment; when the shock wore off, Ethan wrapped his arms tightly around the little boy and buried his face into his hair, tears slipping down his cheeks. 

Natalie and Elizabeth watched the scene in front of them, nearly bursting into tears themselves. They shared a glance and the two women left Ethan and Ben alone to bond while making themselves comfortable in the living room. Nat sniffled and took a steadying breath to keep herself from crying. “I can’t believe that went as well as it did,” she said.

Elizabeth chuckled in disbelief. “Neither can I.” She looked at Nat and took her hands in her own. “How are you doing?”

Natalie smiled. “I’m okay; Ethan and I had a long chat last night and I feel better about… you know, everything.” She sniffled and turned her body towards her new friend. “Liz, I want you to know, I would never try to replace you. You’re Ben’s mother, you always will be. I promise, I will do everything in my power to ensure Ben’s happiness and well-being, and I will make sure that he remembers you, always.”

Liz’s eyes welled with tears and she smiled. “Thank you, Natalie. That means more than I can say. And, if I may be so bold, if I were to have anyone be a mother figure to my son after I’m gone, you would be my first choice. Every time.”

Natalie pulled Elizabeth into a grateful hug and the two women held each other tightly as they cried. All the fears, and questions, and unpredictability with what was to come in the future hung over their heads. And with Elizabeth’s very real limited time left on earth, it felt almost impossible to handle it all. But Natalie knew they would make it work. They always did.

And as Ethan held his son tightly, he knew it too.

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

Things moved fast after Nat and Ethan agreed to take care of Ben. Elizabeth moved into an apartment close to Ethan and Nat’s so she wouldn’t have to travel far for Ben’s visits while Nat and Ethan moved into a bigger unit in their same building. They both agreed having more space would be beneficial with a near-five-year old in the house and it would give him room to grow.

Revealing Ben’s existence to their friends and family had been an interesting experience to say the least. Nat’s mother had been the only one who knew of little Ben, and her father, brother, sister-in-law and Ethan’s father, Alan, were all surprised upon hearing the news. But they were all quickly taken by little Ben and his friendly nature and welcomed him into the family without question.

Explaining the situation to their friends had been a different kind of complicated, considering how many questions everyone had and the surprise most of them felt. Nat and Ethan fielded what questions they could and wanted to answer; most of them relating to how their friends could help and support them, which they were grateful for. Upon meeting little Ben and Elizabeth, their friends welcomed them with open arms and immediately titled themselves as “Auntie” and “Uncle,” surrounding Ben with a huge extended family, much to Elizabeth’s relief and happiness.

Ethan and Natalie spent as much time as possible with little Ben, wanting to ensure that he knew them and was completely comfortable with them when the time came for him to stay with them full-time. Little Ben had taken to the Ramsey's like a duck to water; he loved spending time with them and was making fast friends with Jenner.

It was during one of these stays when Ben called Ethan “Daddy” for the first time. Little Ben and Ethan had been working on a puzzle of the solar system together at the dining table, Auntie Nat (as she had been affectionately named) working on some paperwork on the sofa nearby when Ben looked up at Ethan. “Daddy, have you ever been to space?”

Ethan felt his heart stop at the name. He looked into the bright blue eyes of his little boy, staring back at him in curiosity, unaware of the emotions swirling around in his father. Ethan swallowed hard, fighting back tears and shook his head. “N-no, I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Little Ben shrugged. “Can I go to space?”

Ethan smiled and ruffled Ben’s hair. “Maybe when you’re older. You’re a little too young right now.”

“Okay!” Ben said, happily. Then, without another word, he returned his attention back to the puzzle in front of him. Ethan watched his son, looking more and more like him with each passing day, and his heart swelled. Daddy. That was his name now. Not Dr. Ramsey, not Ethan: Daddy. 

It took him a minute to realize that it wasn’t fear he was feeling but happiness. Pure happiness. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and he swallowed, fighting to keep them at bay. Daddy. The word rang in his head over and over again. Wiping away an escaped tear, he leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Ben’s head.

Feeling a pair of hands rest on his shoulders and slide down his chest, he leaned back into Natalie who had come to stand behind him. She placed a soft kiss on his cheek and placed her lips against his ear. “I love you.”

He smiled and leaned his head against hers. “I love you too.”

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

As Elizabeth grew more ill, Ben began to spend more and more time at the Ramsey household, while Ethan and Nat alternated over checking on Elizabeth’s well-being at her apartment, as she had refused to spend her final months in a hospital. Finally, when she was beginning to grow too weak, she knew it was time to tell little Ben about what was going to happen to her.

Elizabeth, Nat, and Ethan all sat in Elizabeth’s living room, little Ben sitting on his mother’s lap. Elizabeth took a deep breath, then spoke. “Ben, darling,” she began, “there’s something I have to tell you. Do you remember when I told you I was sick?” Little Ben nodded. “Well, I’m afraid I never got better, my love. I only got more sick.”

“Do you need medicine?” he asked, innocently.

She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “I’m afraid medicine won’t help me, my love. The kind of sickness I have, it’s intense and painful and… I’m afraid it’s not something I can heal from, my love.” She took a shaky breath and willed herself to continue. “My love, I- I’m not going to be around much longer. I-- I’m dying, Ben. Which means one day, possibly one day very soon, I won’t be here to take care of you anymore.” 

She pointed to Ethan and Nat, who were sitting nearby, both fighting back tears. “But Daddy and Auntie Nat are going to take care of you, okay? They love you so much and they’re going to make sure you’re always safe and cared for.” She ran a hand over Ben’s head and kissed his forehead. “I love you so much, my son. I always will.”

“Don’t go, Mama,” Ben said, reaching out and placing a small hand on her face.

Elizabeth sniffled. “I don’t want to go, darling. But I don’t have a choice. But I’ll always be with you.” She pointed to his heart. “In here. I’ll always be in your heart, my love; just like you’ll always be in mine.”

Ben began to cry and he leaned into his mother’s embrace. Elizabeth cried silently as she held him, grateful when she felt two sets of arms circle around them. Elizabeth leaned into Natalie as Ethan ran a soothing hand up and down her back. She cursed silently, wishing life didn’t have to be so cruel. 

Just let me make it to his fifth birthday. Please, let me live to see him turn five.

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

Elizabeth’s wish was granted. Despite being incredibly weak, she had lived to see Ben’s fifth birthday. He had been living with Nat and Ethan full time for the last few weeks but the three of them had come over to spend time with Elizabeth, keeping the celebration small. Ben had had a great time and loved the presents he’d been given, all of which were space themed. 

Elizabeth had been all-smiles and laughs during the celebration. It was as if little Ben’s birthday had given her newfound energy and life. She had told Natalie embarrassing stories of Ethan during their university days, much to Ethan’s chagrin, and in return, Nat and Ethan told Elizabeth about the year they met and the journey they had endured that first year, from Naveen’s illness to Nat’s trial. Elizabeth had hung onto their every word. By all standards, Ben’s fifth birthday had been a raging success and everyone ended the night in high spirits.

Elizabeth died three days later.

Ethan had been with her when it happened. He had been monitoring her vitals and chatting idly with her when she spoke her last words. “I really like Natalie, Ethan. She’s incredible. I’m glad you found someone amazing to spend your life with.”

He smiled. “Me too; I only wish you had been given the same chance.”

She returned his smile weakly. “But I did; I spent it with my son. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.” Her eyes fluttered close then, and Ethan felt her pulse slow, slow, slow, and finally stop. His heart tightened as he watched his friend and mother of his son pass away, peacefully.

His eyes welled with tears and he leaned over, giving her a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Rest easy, Liz. Thank you for giving me my son. Thank you for changing my life. I promise, we’ll take good care of Ben. Always.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @paulfwesley @ethansdique @openheartfanfics @perriewinklenerdie @little-flowers-on-heaven @stateofgracious @coffeeheartaddict @liaromancewriter @potionsprefect @mm2305 @gryffindordaughterofathena @actuallybored @writer-ish @queencarb @takeharryandgo @lsvdw-blog @itsjustwinter @chaoticchopshopheart @ohchoices @maurine07 @oldminniemcg @parisa-kh @shanzay44 @uberamsey @izzyourresidentlawyer @adiehardfan @custaroonie @mia143 @a-crepusculo @takemyopenheart @toadfrog26 @quixoticdreamer16 @barbean @headoverheelsforramsey @natureblooms24 @jerzwriter @crazy-loca-blog @dorisz @thegreentwin​ @cryomyst​ @kalinahonore @choicesficwriterscreations @theblueestonedpendant @rookiemartin

[vsilas]

Okay.... hear me out. T4T post-war Snarry where substance use starts them on the path to cracking their eggs and meeting as new people who are ready to give each other a second chance. A sickeningly self-indulgent fic idea, pure rambling. Target audience: me and me alone.

Transfemme Snape is on probation after the Death Eater trials and is stripped of her magic. It's temporary and much better than Azkaban but it also means that Snape is essentially a Squib for three years following the sentence. One of the things that happens as a result of this is that all of the subtle "notice-me-not" charms on the area around Spinner's End wear off and the local authorities finally decide it's time to get rid of that slum. Snape is forced to move, which is probably for the best, all things considered. Living with your abusive parents' ghosts isn't conducive to healing... and there's a lot that Snape needs to heal from. As things stand Snape really doesn't want to have anything to do with the wizarding world so she moves to a muggle town somewhere on the coast. What with not being able to do magic she also turns to muggle solutions for a lot of her problems. She makes a living tending bar (she's basically nocturnal, doesn't drink, and can quell unruly customers with a look, so it's a good fit). She starts taking medical marijuana for the chronic pain caused by her encounter with Nagini and it stops her from feeling mildly suicidal for the first time in ages. It's nothing like her life was before and so she slowly starts shedding some of the fear and pain that kept her in line and an effective tool... basically her whole life.

Trans guy Harry goes a bit wild after the whole "I died to save the wizarding world" thing. He feels like he's been robbed of his childhood, his adolescence, and basically all the experiences that "normal kids" should have, so he lets go of his remaining impulse control and starts to spiral. The summer of 1998 is rough. There's the funerals, the trials, everybody trying to pick up the pieces of their life. Harry doesn't think he has any pieces of himself left to pick up. He didn't really plan for a future after the war... he could never see himself grown up. Harry breaks up with Ginny because the way they are together makes his skin crawl, even if he can't put a finger on why that is. Ron gets really mad at Harry for dumping his sister and even more so when Harry says that he doesn't want to be an Auror anymore. He briefly goes back for his 8th year with Hermione but drops out in November when he only manages to turn in two assignments and spends most of his time finding ways to sneak off the grounds to get drunk in London clubs. Harry's friends worry about him but there's only so much they can do to help somebody who really doesn't want to be helped. Harry moves into Grimmauld Place, cuts his hair really short, and spends his nights "living" which mostly just means doing party drugs and having a few ill-advised one-night stands. When there is no one to party with, Harry gets drunk alone in Grimmauld Place and punches mirrors. He doesn’t see a future for himself so he decides to just live in the present, however long that's going to last him. He can feel a break coming, something terrifying but necessary. It feels like the only way to forward is to spiral down.

Snape, who has known something was off since she was a kid, finally lets herself accept what that thing is. It isn’t an earth-shattering revelation, just part of slipping off the masks of professor and spy and Death Eater until all that's left underneath is her. How the fuck did she fool everybody into thinking that she was a man for all these years? Maybe that’s why she was such a good spy. Started young. Hid it even from herself. It’s not really an easy thing to accept, but inevitable. Snape is already grieving everything else about her life so what's another lie, another chance at happiness that slipped away before she even knew what it was? She spends a lot of time in her shabby little flat getting stoned but she also walks along the beach and starts planning the rest of her life.

Harry cracks on another of his drunken nights out to some rather unpleasant consequences, including ministry officials having to obliviate dozens of muggles in a Camden club and a hangover so bad even potions don't help with it. Most of it gets hushed up but the yellow press takes the opportunity to start saying how the "Girl-Who-Lived" finally went off the rails, complete with an unflattering picture of Harry's new haircut (granted Harry was about to throw up when the picture was taken...). Harry lays low for a while but he is also a man of action and so he begins to research ways he could transition. St. Mungo's doesn't provide that kind of healthcare so if he wants to go the magical route he would have to figure it out himself or find an expert in gender magic... who doesn't seem to exist. There are references to a witch who brewed a potion to change her gender, but she lived in the 18th century. Being trans is stigmatized in the wizarding world so he assumes that wixen who have transitioned probably don't advertise the fact. Harry doesn't trust himself to do any magic or potion work that advanced without killing himself, so he decides to keep searching. He swears Madam Pomfrey to secrecy and asks her if she can help him. She's taken aback and tells him this kind of magic is not well studied and she doesn't know if there's a potioneer alive, other than Severus Snape maybe, who would even try working on something like that. However, even if Snape wasn't a squib and unable to brew anymore, Harry certainly isn't planning to have anything to do with his old potions professor. He decides that maybe he should just try muggle means.

Meanwhile Snape has been doing theoretical research on magical transition but hits a dead end. She needs access to a magical library, she needs to be able to actually experiment... Not to mention that she still has years of her probation left, which means years before she can even attempt transition. The only thing to do is turn to muggle means to both manage her dysphoria and maybe inspire the next stage of her research. It takes a while to secure an appointment, but one fateful day Snape walks into the reception area of a London clinic... right as Harry Potter is exiting the doctor's office after his check-in for being 3 months on T. To say that there is a moment of shocked silence would be an understatement.

They meet up for coffee and cautiously become a two-person support group for trans wixen who got fucked over by fate (and Dumbledore) and miraculously survived a war. Harry lets Snape use the library at Grimmauld Place and Snape promises to expand her research to try and develop something for him too. Harry apprentices to a curse-breaker and weathers the press dragging him through the mud every chance they get. Snape might have mellowed out a bit but she still gets on Harry's case about the drinking and not finishing school. They bicker a lot and sometimes Harry overcompensates on the machismo and acts like James, or Snape feeling a blinding rage that Harry is so fucking young and has his whole life ahead of him... but they end up coming around to each other every time. On some level, they are the only people in the world who can really understand each other.

Over the course of the next year and a half, they slowly get their lives sorted. And through that process, they become the most important people in each others' lives. What started out as reluctant solidarity grows until one day Harry can't imagine a future that doesn't have Snape in it, and Snape starts thinking of "home" as being wherever Harry is. It's not easy, considering how many issues both of them have, but it's the easiest thing in the world compared to the alternative. Cue resolution of them both magically transitioning, dealing with public perceptions, and leaning into being a scandalous power couple who doesn't take shit from anybody.

Now, if only I could write this as an actual story....

[marjansmarwani]

sleep is never coming

2.8k || ao3

Owen has been having the same dream for months now. Every few nights he falls asleep and is returned to one of the worst moments of his life in vivid technicolor. After one of these nights, he finds himself in the kitchen: seeking some tea in pursuit of sleep when he is suddenly not alone. But maybe the young officer who just stumbled into his kitchen from his son's bedroom is the best person he could talk to about this. Maybe it takes someone who loves his son as much as he does to truly understand the fear that is keeping him up at night. ----- Angst Week Day 1: "How do we fix this?" + Anon request: "It's just a nightmare."

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

The bang is sudden, unexpected, and earth-shattering. Owen whips around, searching for the source of the sound but stops mid-turn, frozen in horror at the sight before him. His son slumping over; clutching his collarbone, gasping in pain, and slowly falling to the ground. He tries to move towards him but he feels as if he is trying to move through molasses, too slow to reach him in time. Too slow to help him; just like he was too slow to prevent it. 

It’s the same, every time. He can trace the movements, he knows the script by heart. First, TK falls; then comes the blood. Far, far too much of it oozing from the entry wound, spreading across the ground beneath him and sliding down the wall behind them. There’s more blood too, in a place it should never be: coming out of TK’s mouth as he struggles to breathe, as his wide and terrified eyes seek Owen’s. 

He wants to reassure him, he wants to tell him it’ll be okay, but he doesn’t want to lie. He made a promise many years ago to never lie to his child, no matter what. And as much as he wants it to be a truth, it may not be. He doesn’t know that everything will be okay and that terrifies him. 

There is movement and commotion and voices shouting instructions and updates but all Owen knows for sure is the sensation of watching TK’s eyes close, or seeing the moment he stops breathing. He knows for certain the exact moment he watches his son die because it is the moment his heart shatters. 

There is deadly silence then, for a beat. And in the breath after, he wakes up. 

He shots upright in bed, sucking in a harsh breath before running a weary and shaking hand across his face. “It’s just a nightmare,” he reminded himself, “it’s not real.” He knew this: he’d been having that dream for months now. 

While true, the reminder did nothing to quell the racing of his heart. He sighed and threw the blankets back, climbing out of bed and heading towards the bedroom door. There was no use trying to go back to sleep; past experience had shown him that much. His only hope was to head to the kitchen, make some tea, and hope for the best. Just like he had every few nights in the month since the accident. 

He suppressed a yawn as he walked into the kitchen before checking that the kettle still had water in it and turning on the burner. He leaned against the counter as it heated, rubbing at his tired eyes. He couldn’t keep going on like this. He needed to sleep through the night, he needed to make sure he was on the top of his game. He owed it to his team. 

But every time he tried, he got a front-row seat to one of the worst moments of his life. Nothing — no fire, no accident, not even 9/11 — would compare to the fear he had felt watching his son collapse after being shot. He knew worrying about him was normal, he knew dwelling on it was to be expected. He just hadn’t banked on reliving it every other night. 

He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t notice the sound of footsteps coming down the hall until a sound of surprise had him looking up to see a tousled, shirtless, and embarrassed Officer Reyes standing at the threshold of his kitchen. 

“I’m sorry Sir, I didn’t know…” 

Owen waved off his stammered apology, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Carlos. And please, it’s 3 am and you’re in my kitchen—I think you can call me Owen.” 

Carlos gave a nervous laugh but walked further into the kitchen. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Owen, “It is 3 am so if you don’t mind me asking Sir...Owen, what are you doing?” 

Owen gestured at the kettle that was just starting to steam, “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to see if some tea would help. Would you like some? I could use the company.” 

“Oh,” Carlos looked taken aback, “um, sure. Thank you.” 

Owen turned to the cupboard to pull out two mugs and the box of chamomile tea. He held it up to Carlos, who nodded. “So,” he began, setting everything down on the counter next to the stove, “any particular reason you are in my kitchen at 3 am?” 

Carlos chuckled and stepped closer, settling onto one of the stools on the other side of the counter, “I just woke up and wanted a glass of water. I figured you wouldn’t mind and I had no idea I’d run into anyone.” 

“Normally you’d be right, but I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately.” 

Carlos was quiet then and Owen could see the dilemma playing out in his head through his expression. It was in Carlos Reyes’s nature to fix things, and he was trying to decide whether or not prying into his boyfriend’s father’s insomnia over 3 am tea was crossing a line. Owen decided to make the decision for him. 

“I’ve been having some dreams that are keeping me up. Well, a dream I guess. The same one, every time.”

Carlos studied him as Owen paused to pull the whistling kettle off the burner, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Owen shook his head, “Thanks, but one of us losing sleep over it is enough. No reason to keep you up too.” 

“I’m already up and after the shock of finding you in the kitchen I am wide awake,” Carlos pointed out dryly. “We’re both here so you may as well talk about it, if you want to.” 

Owen considered as he poured the water over the teabags in the mugs. Did he want to? Keeping it to himself clearly wasn’t working. He didn’t want to burden anyone else with this; a part of him wondered how anyone else could possibly understand. The fear and pain of watching your child almost die was unlike anything else. Still, he conceded, in this particular situation, who was better suited to understand this fear than Carlos? He knew how hard the accident had been hard on him too, despite trying as hard as he had to keep up a brave front. If anyone could understand where he was coming from, it would be the young man sitting at the counter with him. 

“I keep reliving that night.” 

He stole a glance at Carlos to see if he needed to be more specific but the newly clenched jaw told Owen that he knew exactly what night he was talking about. He slid the other mug across the counter before wrapping his hands around his own, “sometimes it feels like it’s every time I try to sleep. I close my eyes and I’m just there again.” 

Carlos let out a shuddering breath and tightened his grip on his mug, “I know what you mean. I...had a similar problem, right after it happened. I don’t think I got much sleep at all while he was in the hospital. I would wake up afraid, not remembering that he was okay, that it had all turned out fine. I just had this fear that I couldn’t shake. Sometimes I don’t think I ever will, not completely. The only thing that helped with the dreams, at least, was the fact that TK was lying next to me, alive and okay, eventually.” 

“Well I’m sure neither of you would appreciate me coming to check on him every time I have that dream, would make for some awkward encounters,” Owen retorted, trying for a joke that fell flat, judging by Carlos’s forced smile. He sighed and ran a weary hand over his face, “How do we fix this?” 

“Time, I guess,” Carlos responded with a shrug. “I wish I had a better answer, but I think that’s the only one there is.” 

Owen took a sip of his tea, rolling the idea around in his mind before he shook his head, “I don’t know if time is going to be enough. I don’t think time will ever completely erase the guilt.” 

“The guilt?” There was genuine surprise in the young officer’s voice and Owen snorted. 

“I’m not only his father, but his captain. I told him to breach the door. I gave the order, and I was standing right there. I had all the information but I didn’t put it together fast enough to stop it, to save him. There is not a single way of looking at this that doesn’t make me responsible.” 

Owen isn’t sure what reaction he expected out of his son’s boyfriend, but it certainly wasn’t what he got. He didn’t expect him to scoff and counter his claim with one of his own: “How do you think I feel? I’m a cop and I was on the scene. We knew there was a gun and yet it slipped through the cracks. It’s more my fault than anyone’s if anything.” 

Owen blinked for a second, processing everything that Carlos had just said. “That’s insane,” he retorted incredulously, “you had two civilians in your care and the logical assumption to make was that once the grandfather collapsed the gun was no longer an issue. “Besides,” he added wryly, “whoever heard of anyone shooting at the fire dept? Everyone loves us.” 

Carlos snorted at that before his expression turned serious again, “The same goes for you: how did you have any way of knowing that things were any different than any other time? You followed protocol, you did everything you should have. TK did everything he should have; he did the job he was trained to do. Chances are, nothing could have prevented what happened.” 

Owen considered his words as he swished the tea in his cup, watching as the leaves that had settled at the bottom rose upwards into the warm liquid again. “You might be right,” he allowed, “but I don’t like it.” 

“No one likes feeling helpless, Owen,” Carlos pointed out wryly. “But sometimes that’s all we can be.”

Owen looked up from his tea to study the younger man, who met his gaze and held it. “You’re pretty wise for someone so young, you know that?” he said after a few moments. 

“That’s just your sleep-deprived brain talking.” 

Owen chuckled at that and Carlos grinned in response. “What do you think TK would say if he knew we were both up at an ungodly hour worrying about him?”

“He would be very against it,” Owen said with certainty, and Carlos hummed in agreement. 

“Unfortunately for him, I don’t think either of us is going to stop anytime soon.” 

“No,” Owen agreed, “but that’s what happens when you love someone.” 

Carlos froze, choking on his tea mid-sip before setting the cup down as he coughed and stared at Owen, who chuckled. 

“It’s okay Carlos, I don’t know if you’ve said it yet, but it doesn’t matter. I know you love him and if I know my son, he feels the same way. I’m just happy you two found each other. It makes me feel a lot better knowing that he has someone else who cares about him as much as I do looking out for him.”

“But not enough to help you sleep at night, huh?” 

“Apparently not,” Owen agreed wearily. 

Carlos gave him a smile, “What about the fact that he has both of us looking after him now? Does that make you feel any better?” Carlos paused a moment and met Owen’s eyes before continuing, “Because you’re not alone in this Owen, and neither is he. You have a family here in Austin. I may have only been around for a few months but it doesn’t take long to see. You, TK, the rest of the crew: you all look out for each other. Does that help at all?” 

Owen looked down at the counter, overwhelmed by the truth of the statement. It wasn’t that he didn’t know that, it was more that sometimes it was hard to remember. It didn’t seem like so long ago that he had arrived in Austin, that they had all met. Yet he knew what Carlos said was true. He did have a family here in Austin now, and it was growing to include a certain officer more and more each day. 

“As long as we’re clear that you’re included in that too, Carlos,” he said, after a beat. 

The younger man opened his mouth but Owen held up a hand, “Nope, no arguments. You’re just as much a part of this as anyone else. It was already true, but this whole tea thing has really sealed the deal, no backing out now.” 

There was another beat of silence, and then Carlos smiled. “Thank you, Owen,” he said softly. 

They trailed off into comfortable silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts and sipping their tea. It was some time before Owen happened to catch a glimpse of the clock over the stove. He swore, breaking the reverie they had been in and causing Carlos to startle ever so slightly. 

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I just hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. Or early, maybe?” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair before turning and looking at Carlos whose eyebrows rose when he saw the time. 

“Do we even bother trying to go back to bed at this point?” he asked, and Owen chuckled. 

“How do you feel about breakfast?” he asked instead. 

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan,” Carlos agreed, pulling himself off of his stool and crossing into the kitchen, “anything particular you had in mind?” 

It was shortly after that that a groggy TK stumbled into the kitchen, taking in the scene before him between blinks as he fought to clear the last remnants of sleep from his eyes. “What are you two doing?” he asked, voice still slightly raspy with sleep but filled with confusion. “Am I dreaming?” 

Carlos grinned and stepped around the counter, pressing a light kiss on TK’s cheek as Owen spoke, “Can’t say that you are, no. I can say though that I am surprised to see you up — it’s pretty early.” 

“Which is why I was confused when I woke up to an empty bed,” he retorted pointedly, glancing at Carlos. “So I figured I should see where you’d gotten to.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you,” Carlos told him sincerely, “I just woke up and came out for a drink and ran into your dad in the kitchen. We got to talking and realized neither of us could go back to sleep, so we made breakfast.” 

He turned as he spoke, gesturing to the counter which held a platter of eggs and pancakes. “I was just going to come and wake you up in a bit, to see if you wanted any.” 

TK glanced from the counter to Owen and back to Carlos, eyebrows raised, “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” he asked eventually. 

“Pretty sure,” Owen said with a shrug, and TK nodded. 

“That makes sense,” he agreed, “I don’t think I could even dream up something this strange.” 

“I don’t know son,” Owen said lightly as he poured himself a cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot, “the mind can be a pretty interesting place. But the food is getting cold, come on.” 

TK glanced at Carlos again who smiled at him and pulled him forward to one of the stools. He slid onto it and accepted the plate passed to him by his father with his baffled expression still in place, though it seemed to be morphing to something closer to fondness with each passing second. 

“So,” he said softly, leaning closer to Carlos as Owen busied himself at the stove, flipping the last batch of pancakes, “you and my dad get along now, do you?” 

“We do,” Carlos confirmed confidently, shooting Owen a grin. 

TK looked between them, “I don’t know if I should be happy or worried about this.” 

“Probably a bit of both,” Owen told him lightly as he slid the last pancakes onto the tray and set it down before them.” 

“That sounds right,” TK agreed. “What did you guys talk about?” 

There was quiet for a second as Carlos and Owen glanced at each other. “Just stuff,” Owen said lightly, “general things, everyday stuff; you know.” 

TK didn’t look convinced but he didn’t press, reaching instead for the plate of pancakes and serving them onto the plates before them. “That’s fine,” he said lightly, “keep your secrets. Since you’re friends now, I guess.” 

Carlo shook his head fondly as he accepted the pancakes placed on his plate and Owen smiled. Maybe it was just morning optimism, but things looked better in the dim dawn light leaking through the kitchen windows. Maybe this talk, this reminder that his family was so much more than just him and TK now, would be the thing that would help him to put this behind him. 

Maybe tonight he would have a dreamless sleep — maybe this had been just what he needed.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 2

This chapter runs a little long so I'm sorry about that, but it's all essential I promise!

Also, I want to thank (again) those who messaged me like two months ago to give me insight on maternal instincts and emotions. You have no idea how much I appreciate each and every one of you who'd reached out to help. This is the final result of that, and I sincerely hope I brought justice to your advice! <3

chapter index

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“Sota.” God, she seemed so crushed, so unstable. To him, somehow, seeing her this way always made her appear so small and fragile, and it was on one hand that he could count the amount of times he’d actually seen her like this. Her head was hanging and she wasn’t making eye contact. Like, she felt shame on top of her anguish.

“Kagome, climb. I’ll be right behind you.” He promised as reassuringly as possible.

Finally, she moved. Kagome pulled her sleeve over her wounded palm and then grabbed the ladder, her shaking fingers gripping tighter than normal to prevent her from incidentally falling with her current, unsteady state. She went as fast as she could to get to the top, ignoring the adrenaline-dulled sting on her left hand until she reached the sturdy, wooden flooring of the treehouse, and crawled inside. Sota was quick to follow her up as soon as he was clear, always faster than she’d been up the damned thing.

He was cautious as he approached, watching her as she stared at the ground she sat on between her parted thighs. Kagome’s back was against the wall, but her shoulders were slumped forward, defeated.

“I’m fine now.” She softly mentioned. “You don’t have to worry.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Sota returned.

“I’m just a in a bit of shock is all.”

“It’s not your fault.” He said after a brief moment of silence. Kagome hung her head a little lower. “It’s not, Kagome. You can’t control everything, especially what you don’t know. You can’t hold yourself responsible for another conjurer getting killed.”

“Sota, stop. Please.” Kagome was beginning to cry, he could hear the wetness as she spoke, though she continued to hide her face and hold her breath.

“You put too much on your own shoulders, sometimes. It’s not right.”

“I didn’t choose this.” She whispered tremblingly.

“No, you didn’t. So, you’re allowed to not know what’s going on, and you’re allowed to not know how to fix things, and you’re allowed to make mistakes, and you’re allowed to not be the hero. That doesn’t make you a villain, though. And, it doesn’t put you at fault.”

Kagome broke then, sobbing as she folded forward, her arms clutching over her chest to hold herself securely. Slowly, Sota scooted himself closer, gently unfurling his older sister just enough to have her rest against him, her head on his shoulder while he held her and provided warmth. She cried so hard she coughed, shook, and nearly hyperventilated, but Sota did as their parents had done with them when they cried. He stayed still, didn’t budge, rubbed the length of her back with his fingers, and waited patiently for the stress to filter out of her system.

“You know,” Kagome spoke between trembling breaths that rocked her chest, a lingering affect from the hard cry. “I think we’ve got the roles reversed here.”

“What do you mean?” Sota asked.

“I’m the big sibling. I’m the one that’s supposed to be comforting you.” She lightly giggled, shaking her head and sitting upright as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

“You’re also the crybaby of the two of us.” Sota shrugged.

“Says the sissy.”

“You call it being a sissy, I call it not getting my butt kicked in the middle of town.” He teased. “Those are also referred to as, survival skills.”

Kagome chuckled, her throat cursing her for the slight aggravation even that had caused, but she ignored it. It wasn’t all that bad. Not in comparison to the headache she was now sporting. Feeling a little crusty on her face, she took her sleeve and wiped again, noticing a good helping of dirt come off on her shirt.

“Oh, god.” She groaned, continuing the motion to clean off her face of what she knew were the remnants of somewhat-dried mud. “How bad do I look right now?”

Sota frowned slightly, shaking his head. “I don’t feel like you want the answer to that.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Awful.”

“Nice.” She shrugged her brows, giving up on any further attempt at cleaning her face. She could feel the filth on her clothes, in her hair, on her forehead. It was taking extreme effort not to look at her stained sleeves and her soiled hands. At this point, she didn’t even feel the cut on her palm anymore, completely muted by everything else.

“I can’t -“ The serious expression was back on her face, brown eyes drifting to the far, low wall as she receded back into her guilt-riddled mind. “I can’t believe that I ever thought that just by being present, I would be able to prevent another’s death when all I did was stand there.”

“What are you talking about? You were never prepared for something like this.” Sota countered.

“No. I guess I wasn’t, was I? I always thought if someone was falsely accused, I would immediately stop it. But, there was actually another conjurer all along. I had no idea. And, I just - it happened so fast.”

She noticed her little brother flinch minutely, his own eyes falling to the floorboards they sat on. It must have been so hard for him to watch, too. It was terrible, and he had to witness it all from the sidelines, no doubt holding their mom back while watching his sister get yanked away by the hair and thrown against the wall, only making matters worse. Knowing him, he was probably holding his breath the whole time, hoping she wasn’t found out as a conjurer, herself. And yet, here he was comforting her because he knew she was scared. He must have been terrified.

Reaching over with her non-wounded hand, Kagome softly ruffled his dark hair, waiting until his attention wandered up to her.

“Sorry.” She whispered.

“It’s okay.” Sota shrugged. “I’m just glad it wasn’t worse.”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, I - I just had to try something. You understand, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You wouldn’t really be Kagome if you didn’t.”

“What?”

“Well, you’re kind of notorious for never minding your business and sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re also a little reckless, extremely impulsive, and have a bad habit of not thinking of the consequences of your actions until after you’ve already done the thing.”

Kagome’s mouth hung agape, taken aback by her apparent reputation. “Hey.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

The thing was, she couldn’t. She knew these details about herself, it was just a hard pill to swallow when it was all bundled into one. So, she huffed in defeat instead, nudging his head away.

“Just, next time, can you fight back? At least a little?” Sota asked, chuckling. “How are you supposed to help bring Naraku down if you can’t even manage to throw a punch?”

“Why are you harping on me so much? Aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

“Just because you’re my sister doesn’t mean you get my support by default.”

“That’s exactly what I’m supposed to get.” Kagome argued.

“It’s kind of embarrassing actually. The name, ‘conjurer,’ alone, is intimidating, but on you it’s like -“

“Finish that sentence and I will flatten you.” She threatened.

“How?” Sota laughed. “That’s that problem, sis! You can’t fight! Your power move is your backtalk, and you can’t even speak without your voice cracking right now, so what the hell are you gonna do?”

Without missing a beat, Kagome shoved the heel of her palm into the center of Sota’s forehead. It wasn’t strong enough to push him back or hurt him by any means, but it was definitely the perfect amount of force to shock her brother and shut him up, the pre-teen now too busy laughing and rubbing the spot of his head she’d just offended.

“Punk ass.” She huffed.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry, I was just kidding!” Sota smiled, the expression slowly fading to one of interest. “So, mind if I ask you something?”

“Hm?” Kagome couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the question on his tongue, given he was just teasing. She could tell, though, with the change in tone and the look in his brown eyes, that his curiosity had been curbed for long enough now.

“How’d you do it? The test, I mean. How’d you manage to hide that you were a conjurer?”

“I hide it every time.” She reminded him, kind of dismissively.

“Yeah, but no other time was like this? They narrowed the age group, and I don’t think they’ve ever strategized to this degree. It was like a foolproof plan; they seemed so confident. I mean, they even got…” He stopped there, unable to finish that sentence. “I just don’t really understand what happened.”

Kagome sighed, giving in what she felt was too easily but also justified, crossing her legs to sit a little more comfortably as she braced her elbows on her thighs. It’d been a secret for a while, and though she’d hoped it’d stay that way for a while more, she wasn’t about to attempt to lie to Sota when he would not only be able to see right through her, but also deserved the truth. “They were going for our receptors to stress. They typically do that every time, except not to this extreme. By cutting us, with our fight-or-flight response already revving, the pain and undeniable evidence of physical danger is kind of like a kick to our adrenaline levels. Throw in their darkness against our natural instinct for light, and you’ve got yourself a mess. To be honest, I don’t know the exact science behind it; this is just the only explanation that makes sense to me. So, when I saw them go about it with the first girl and figured out exactly what they were trying to do, I knew how to counter.”

“Wait, what? How?” Sota asked, almost more confused than before.

“I’ve - um - I’ve been practicing.”

“Practicing what, exactly? What’s there to practice?”

“A multitude of things.” Kagome stated. “Like, sensing demons, how much power is necessary to kill one, how to purify, how much is too much and how much is too little - because situations vary, how to channel my power into my arrows, and in this case, how not to react at all.”

Sota’s lips slowly parted in slight awe. “You can do all that?”

“Sort of.” She replied, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “I struggle with a few things still, but I’m not helpless.”

“Who were you training with? You know someone who can help?”

“No, not necessarily.” She shook her head. “It’s just been Miroku, Sango, and I.”

“What?” Sota’s brows furrowed considerably, appearing upset as he processed her admittance. “You guys were - since when!? You guys have been training and I was never a part of it!?”

Kagome sighed, head falling back for a split second in exasperation as she received the exact reaction she’d been expecting. “Sota, I’m sorry, okay? We couldn’t get you involved, though.”

“Why the hell not!? You know how badly I want to learn how to use a sword, and I never got to train with papa and uncle like you guys did!”

“Because, we’re doing this for a reason. It’s not just to keep up with what papa was teaching me, it’s to get way better than I was ever expected to become. Papa was teaching me basic skills, and yes, he really helped ground me when it came to channeling my spiritual power into my arrows as I shot them, but that was it. I wanted - no, needed - to get better, and develop my conjurer abilities for the sake of myself, you guys, and everything happening around us. Would you rather me be defenseless?”

“No, of course not, but -“

“Then, okay!” She cut him off. “Now I’m not. You weren’t included because we didn’t want you to know, Sota. We didn’t want anyone to know. Mama doesn’t know, Sango’s dad doesn’t know, no one knows.”

“That doesn’t make sense, Kagome! This isn’t fair!” He argued, cheeks hued with an angry pink.

“You want to talk to me about unfair!?” Kagome shouted, her own face growing hot with frustration. “You don’t know the half of it!”

“Hey, you’ve at least got some powers to work with! Throw in your bow and arrow, and you’re set! I don’t have crap! Papa died before I was old enough to learn a damn thing, and Sango’s dad’s too much of a stickler to train boys younger than fifteen!”

“First of all, watch your language! You’re still a kid!” He huffed at her stern tone, and she could literally see the annoyed rebuttal on his lips, so she continued before giving him the chance. “Second, I like how one minute you pity me for my powers, and now all of a sudden I’m lucky to have them because you somehow think you’ve gotten the short end of the stick!? Pick a side, you selfish brat! You should enjoy the fact that you don’t need to know how to use a weapon, Sota!”

“You had your first lesson when you were eight!”

“Is this about me, or is this about papa?”

“It’s about the fact that I feel useless!”

“You don’t need to know how to fight to be useful!”

“I might have been able to save you today if I did!”

Oh. Oh.

Kagome took a moment to compose herself, exhaling heat from her tightly-clenched throat as she re-evaluated her younger brother’s reasoning for being so mad. She’s known how badly he’s wanted to learn how to fight, and she’s known that he would resent her for multiple reasons when and if he found out the three of them had kept up the training their fathers had started them on. As much as she would have enjoyed including him, it was for his own safety that she hadn’t. They were doing something dangerous, and truthfully, it was only in preparation of something even more dangerous. Sota didn’t need to be involved in that mess. He deserved to be free of that stress and responsibility. She’d even said Miroku and Sango shouldn’t be involved, but that easily went ignored as if she’d never brought up the argument in the first place. Her cousin and she were incredibly close, he was as protective of her as an older brother would be, and Sango was, admittedly, the biggest help of all, being the most skilled in combat, demon knowledge, and with weapons. Without them, their patience, their observations and constructive criticism of how she could better her techniques, and even their willingness to learn alongside her and offer suggestions, she most likely wouldn’t have gotten this far. Not on her own.

She felt like a total ass for calling Sota a selfish brat. She’d assumed his point of view was more superficial, when all he really wanted to do was contribute. All he wanted to do was help her when she’d gone and gotten herself into trouble. She knew better than anyone how entrapping it was to feel so helpless in dire situations.

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Sota was defiantly staring at the wall behind her, his arms crossed over his chest to silently communicate that he was peeved. Which wasn’t at all necessary. She got the point.

“Alright, I’m with you.” Kagome tried. “I understand where you’re coming from now.”

Sota looked further away.

“I was only trying to keep you safe by excluding you.”

Still no response. Knowing she was clear to make an aggravated expression, Kagome slowly and dramatically rolled her eyes, leaning away so her back and head rested against the wooden wall.

“I don’t think you’re a selfish brat.”

“I don’t really care whether you do or don’t.” He finally spoke, but his attention remained diverted. “You always try to dismiss me by calling me names, and it’s just your way of neglecting to see my side of things.”

Big words for a twelve year-old, Kagome had to admit. And, as much as she wanted to fight him on his statement, to deny his half-true accusation, she bit her tongue.

“You had your first lesson when you were eight.” Sota repeated, this time steadier. “I didn’t get that. I didn’t get that time with papa, the skill training, the confidence, the knowledge, none of it. By the time you were my age, you had something to work with. You weren’t really supposed to use your power, and the training papa gave you was more to manage it than anything, I get that. But, even if you take that away, you could still shoot straight. I don’t even know the right way to hold a sword. I don’t know the first thing about a blade. I don’t have the slightest idea how to pull an arrow through a bow and make sure my shot counts. You know what I know how to do? Stand back, stay quiet, and hold mom’s hand.” He finally looked at his sister, his brown eyes, a degree lighter than hers, deep with animosity. “You don’t know the first thing about what I felt today, and you want to call me selfish? You promised not to do anything stupid, and you ran out blindly, started talking about Kikyo like it was a casual topic, and got manhandled by a demon three times the size as you. As if it wasn’t traumatizing enough to watch a girl get murdered just a few feet away from me, I almost had to watch the same happen to my own sister within the same timeframe. You talk about feeling horrible for just standing there and watching a stranger get killed, well think about having to stand there while your family is the one being threatened. I understand that you didn’t ask for the circumstances that you have no choice but to deal with, but we’re riding the waves alongside you, sis, and just because I’m the youngest doesn’t mean I don’t deserve some consideration.”

“I’m not saying you don’t.” Kagome softly said. “My intentions for keeping you out of it weren’t to belittle or disregard you by any means, Sota. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it as many times as I need to: I only wanted to keep you safe. You’re my little brother. That’s my job. And, what I’m doing is dangerous. And, crazy. But, it’s something I have to do. You don’t. So, that’s why I never wanted you mixed up in it. Yes, you’re involved in the mayhem of these inspections, and I can understand how it’s frustrating to feel so powerless, but I’m going to be honest with you, no matter how much experience you have, that’ll never change. Even the demon slayers can’t stop them; you’ve heard what Sango’s dad has said. Miroku can fight, but you watched him take a beating, too. He got it worse than I did, all because he was trying to stop them from hurting me. What would have happened to you?” Kagome shook her head as the idea of her younger sibling getting kicked in the side and pummeled into the wet dirt filtered through her mind. She blinked her eyes shut as if to block the images from coming again. “No. Sota, I can’t have you getting hurt like that. I’m sorry that you feel it’s unfair that you don’t know how to protect yourself, but that’s just the way things have to be for now.”

Sota had calmed some, she could see it in his face. He was never really the kind to stay mad. Not for long, at least. Sota was the sort who got it out of his system in one swing, and was level-headed enough to see another’s point of view thereafter. He took after their mom. Kagome, on the other hand, constantly had her temper pointed out to her. She was definitely more passionate, more dramatic, more hot-headed, and held the thrown for sass in their family. She was her father’s daughter.

Kagome scooted an inch or two closer to her little brother, nudging his arm. “You aren’t useless. A weapon doesn’t define your worth.”

“Easy for you to say. You can fight. Apparently, better than I thought you could.”

“I mean, just look at what you did for me today. Look at what you did for mama. You’re so patient and kind, and you brought me all the way here as quick as you could so I could cry in private. And, I’m positive you did your best to keep mama as calm as possible. You think the act of holding someone’s hand through something difficult is simple, but it’s not. It’s grounding and supportive. Sota, that’s a lot to offer. Not everyone has the heart that you do.”

“You’re corny.” He murmured, leaning against her shoulder.

“Alright, I’m done being nice to you.” Kagome dully remarked, her attitude quickly shifting, though she was unable to fight her own, small grin. Neither of them moved away, and she allowed him to rest against her, thankful that he didn’t mind the mud she was covered in. It was a little late to think about it, anyway; he’d held her earlier, which got some on his own clothing.

The silence between them was comfortable. The thunder was oddly soothing. Her mind was relaxing finally, her nerves returning to their normal state. What once was cushioned with epinephrine and numbness was now beginning to ache and burn. Still, she made no move to head home just yet. Kagome was in no rush to go back to reality.

“You said this was something you have to do. Training.” Sota mentioned, his voice somewhat hushed. “Why?”

Kagome didn’t answer; not immediately.

“Why, Kagome?”

“You know why. I can’t be expected to help fight against Naraku if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Wait, but you’re -“

Kagome nodded.

“So, you’re really gonna fight?” Sota breathed.

“Yeah.”

“When?”

She didn’t answer, which was basically all the answer he needed.

“Kagome, are you about to do something insane?”

“I - I am.” She confirmed.

Sota sat upright, brown eyes meeting brown eyes. He took a moment, waiting to see if she would explain herself, but as her plush lips remained closed, and her stare held steadfast, he read what was on her mind. He’d been in the room during her countless retellings of this phantom Kikyo telling her the responsibility was theirs. He knew there was a possibility that Kagome would take that to heart. He knew that she wanted to help defeat Naraku. That all entailed the same result. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

Kagome took in a slow, deep inhale, nodding as she exhaled. “Yes.”

“Is there any way I can talk you out of it?”

“No.”

He sighed, hanging his head for a moment in a defeat that came much easier than she would have ever predicted. “So, when do you guys go?”

“It’s actually just me.” Kagome admitted, sitting up to match his body language. The ache in her hand was growing, so she unconsciously switched back and forth between twiddling her fingers and clenching her fist to distract herself from the cut that no longer bled. “I know I said the three of us were training for a reason, but Miroku’s hurt. And, Sango’s not going to want to leave Kohaku on his own. She’ll want to wait until her dad gets back. So, I’m leaving tonight. On my own.”

Just as she finished her sentence, a huge rumble of thunder roared overhead, shaking the little treehouse they resided in. Sota’s attention shot out the door by instinct, drifting back to her as the noise died down. “Of course, you are. At least wait out the storm, will you?”

“Alright, yeah.” Kagome scrunched her nose slightly. “I’ll wait it out as long as I can.”

“You’ll come back?”

“I’ll come back.”

“You promise?” Sota held out his pinky to her.

She couldn’t help the warmth that flooded over her, a small smile curving at her lips as she stared at his finger. Finally, she took it with her own. “I promise. In return, you have to promise not to tell anyone. You’re the only person who knows I’m going. Keep it that way.”

“Gonna be hard to keep it a secret if you’re literally missing, sis.” He mentioned.

“I meant, until morning.” Kagome rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell them until I’m gone.”

“Deal.” Sota begrudgingly obliged, pulling his pinky free. “Come on. We should get back before it starts raining again. Mom’s probably doing that thing where she’s going crazy with worry so she’s smothering Miroku. By the way, he’s gonna kick your ass when he finds out.”

“Language.” Kagome tiredly reminded him, following him over to the edge.

“What are you gonna do? Fight me?” He jokingly mocked, beginning his climb down the rope ladder. Once he was far enough away, knowing she couldn’t do anything to him even if she wanted to, he continued his mindless taunting. “I don’t care what you say, or how much training you swear you’ve done, I still watched you get your shit rocked today.”

“I’m gonna spit on you, you freaking dweeb.” Kagome threatened, inching over the siding of the floorboards as she watched him sway slightly on the rope to hurry down. He knew she was serious, and she liked seeing the panic on his face.

When his feet met the ground, Kagome positioned herself for her own climb down, having to be more careful than before with her hand. She figured, in fact, that climbing up the way she had didn’t help her situation any. She may not have felt it in the moment, but it was easy to tell now that the gash was swollen and highly irritated. Kagome had to move slow, hooking her left forearm through the rope instead of grasping it with her fist.

“Don’t fall, okay? Be careful. I’m right here to catch you.” Sota assured from below. Kagome appreciated the protective offer, but she knew damn well that Sota would be more of a cushion to break the fall since he lacked the muscle - and size - necessary to prevent it.

“You know, your mood swings give me whiplash.” She said through stressed breath. “One minute you’re nice, the next you’re teasing me, the next you’re nice, and the next you’re yelling at me.”

“Yeah, and you’re mood swings give me a migraine. So, I guess we’re even.” Sota countered. It was actually a fair response that Kagome couldn’t even argue against, instead bobbing her head back and forth in agreement.

Her boots reached for the ground, and she felt Sota’s hands instinctually grasp her low back as she gained her footing. As a silent thank you, she ruffled her brother’s hair, notching her head in the direction of their home.

“Will you teach me how to use a sword when you get back?” Sota asked, walking beside his sister. “At least the basics? Please?”

“I don’t know what ‘bow and arrow’ mean to you, Sota, but I’m crap with a sword.” She replied.

“But, you have a knife.”

“Hate to break it to you, but this is definitely a scenario where size does, in fact, matter.”

“What - wow.” He laughed.

“I can teach you how to shoot. Or, maybe I’ll be able to convince Sango to teach you how to use a sword. She’s awesome with one.”

“Miroku may be better off convincing her since his tongue is always down her throat.”

Kagome was the one to laugh that time, cringing slightly. “You’re probably right. Either way, this is only when I get back and if things have calmed down.”

“It’s you. You’re the most stubborn person I know. I know for a fact things will be better when you get back.” He said, approaching the front door of their home and stomping the mud off his boots.

“You do?” Kagome smiled, feeling encouraged.

“Well, yeah. You literally won’t have it any other way. I’m assuming if anyone tries to stop you, you’ll just claw their face off with your unyielding temper.” Sota replied, looking at her with a grin as he made a clawing gesture with his furled fingers.

Kagome deadpanned, entirely unsurprised by the last jab he served her. She raised her fist, quickly jerking it back in an empty threat to hit him, and he threw the door open to run inside.

“Oh, thank goodness. You’re back.” Their mother breathed as soon as they’d appeared, rushing over to them from Miroku’s side on the couch.

“Sorry.” Sota spoke for the both of them, his serious demeanor returning. “We just needed a moment. I know it was a bad time to run off, but -“

“Sota, honey, don’t worry. I understand.” Their mom assured. “Are you two okay.”

“Yeah.” He answered, and their mother’s attention diverted to Kagome.

“Yeah.” Kagome echoed, giving a curt nod.

“Come here.” She walked over, her cold, gentle hands cradling Kagome’s jaw as she turned her face about to check for damage. Kagome knew it was fruitless, though. She was filthy. Still, she looked at her as if her vision could see through thick, dried dirt. Her hands glided down Kagome’s left arm and to her hand, inspecting the cut on her palm. “Let’s get you cleaned up, love.”

“But, Miroku.” Kagome mentioned, peeking over her mom’s shoulder at him. He laid on the couch, his arm planted over his eyes with a light blanket covering most of his body. He was shirtless, looked clean, and seemed almost comfortable, though she could see that a mass of deep red and purple had made home on his ribs.

“I’m on drugs. Leave me alone.” He grunted, not even peeking over at them.

“I gave him some herbs so he would be more comfortable.” Her mother smiled.

“The strong stuff?” Sota asked, taking a seat at their circular, dining table.

“The good shit.” Miroku said.

“Where’s Sango?” Kagome asked.

“Well, she wanted to take Kohaku home and get cleaned up, herself. I invited them to stay, especially for dinner, but you know Sango. She’s as independent as ever.”

“She’s fucking hot.” Miroku murmured.

Kagome cringed and groaned, eyeing her cousin. His perverted grin was unmistakable, even from behind his forearm. “You’re on drugs. Shut up.”

“Come on, dear. I just drew up a fresh bath; you’re timing couldn’t have been more perfect.” Her mom pulled her, guiding her to the bathroom where she shut the door behind them.

Carefully, her mother helped Kagome undress, peeling the muddy clothes off of her, overly cautious not to hurt her since she wasn’t sure what state her body was in. Kagome, knowing this provided a sense of comfort for her mom - caring for her in her vulnerable state - allowed her to do as she pleased, taking things just as slowly. Truthfully, her aching muscles, now more noticeable than ever, were as grateful for it as she was.

The water was hot as she sunk into the tub, plugging her nose and dunking her head entirely. She took the rag that was offered, gently cleaning off her face and body as her mom took to washing her hair.

“Mama, I’m sorry.” Kagome softly spoke through the silence.

“Shh.”

“I didn’t -“

“Shh.” Her mother hushed her again, gently massaging her scalp with her fingers. “All that matters to me is that you’re okay. Nothing else, Kagome.”

Kagome sighed, leaning back into her mom’s touch. “I am.”

She bundled up in a towel after drying off, her long, raven hair, though still dripping, beginning to wave as it fell over the front of her shoulders. Her mother once again gently tilted her head back and forth to inspect the damage, running her thumb over her cheek. When she extended Kagome’s neck, Kagome couldn’t help but wince slightly, the swallow she’d unintentionally done at that exact moment sliding down her swollen throat uncomfortably.

“We’re lucky he didn’t crush your trachea.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Kagome whispered with a wry grimace as her mom released her to look at her hand. Kagome tried to swallow her hiss, but couldn’t stop it from sliding off her tongue, her mouth hanging open as her mother stretched out her palm to observe it closely.

“Sorry.” She breathed sympathetically. “It looks irritated. Definitely inflamed. I’ve got the salve out on the table. Let’s get you dressed so I can clean and bandage it up.”

“Are you gonna have to amputate it, doc?”

“Unfortunately, that is a possibility.”

“What?” Kagome’s expression shifted to fearful shock, studying the red cut on her hand as her mother giggled.

“I’m kidding.”

“You said it with a straight face and everything.” She whined.

Her mother merely kept her smile, her fingers finding the ends of her daughter’s hair and running them through. During the silence, she couldn’t stop herself from traveling higher, twisting the waving locks, fixing her messy bangs, and then combing her now-trembling fingers all the way through the length of her hair again. She’d realized she was fidgeting in a sense, losing her composure, but the fight was no match. Her chin quivered and her bottom lip jutted out slightly as she pulled Kagome into a tight hug and pinched her eyes shut, trying everything she could to keep the terrifying image of her daughter in that little girl’s place at bay.

“Mama? What’s wrong?” Kagome gently asked, holding her in return.

“Nothing.” She lied, though she convincingly held her tone steadier than she felt.

Kagome could feel her fear, her anguish, and the relief that they were together right now. She could understand, much like Sota’s disturbance, how difficult it must have been for her mother to witness everything that had happened today. None of it was easy for anyone, so Kagome tightened her grip, sullenly resting her chin on her mom’s shoulder.

“Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so brave.” She finally caved, openly crying, shaking into her firming hold.

It only took that one sentence to bring Kagome to crumble, herself. Her expression twisted sadly and hot tears washed to her eyes, spilling over as she hid her face in her mom’s shoulder.

“It doesn’t always feel like I need to protect you from the world, Kagome. It sometimes feels like I need to protect you from yourself. How can I do that? You’re always ready to sacrifice yourself for others, always ready to fight battles that aren’t yours when your own is hard enough. I don’t know how to save you from this. Any of this.” Her mom sobbed. “I had no choice but to stand there and watch you get hurt, and I just… I can’t do that again, Kagome. I can’t - I won’t…”

“I’m sorry.” Kagome cried, voice faltering worse than ever.

“If I could take your place, I would in a heartbeat.”

Kagome fervently shook her head against her mother’s shoulder.

“I would.” She nodded, leaning back and taking her daughter’s face in her hands. “I would be able to protect you then. You’re my little girl. You’re good, and you’re pure, and you’re feisty, and you’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’re beautiful, and you’re resilient, and you’re kind, and the world has no business hating you.” She wiped her thumbs back and forth over Kagome’s cheeks, clearing the fresh tears that streamed down her face while her bottom lip quivered.

Kagome’s mother took a deep, unsteady breath, pulling her closer to place a sweet kiss on her forehead before looking into her glossy eyes again. “I know I can’t, though.” She whispered. “And, I will never ask you to be less than what you are. So long as you stay alive. Please.”

Kagome nodded, sniffling, hardly able to see her mother’s face through her tears. She could feel the heat building, and no amount of swallowing helped, a dense lump growing in her swollen throat and air clogging in her lungs as if she’d lost the ability to properly breathe. Her fingers quaked and her muscles felt weak, her legs slowly folding to bring Kagome’s pitiful figure to the ground. Her mom followed, shushing her, pulling her close and petting her hair to provide as much comfort as possible, but nothing helped pull Kagome out of it. She was lost to the darkness in her mind, the burning in her veins, the image of the young girl still on the ground, cold, bleeding engrained behind her eyelids for her to vividly see.

“I just - I just wanted to save her, mama.” She brokenly sobbed.

“I know, baby. I know, you did.”

“She deserved to live.”

Her mother rocked her back and forth as soothingly as possible, lulling her with a gentle shush as her daughter got the pain out of her system. It tore her apart to know her daughter’s innocence could never be spared. She felt nauseous just knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it, or make it better, or heal her broken heart.

“I tried. I - I tried. I tried.” Kagome kept repeating, her brain on loop and unable to filter anymore words free. Like a broken record skipping, scratching, on its last leg before the music is shut off.

Kagome’s mother wasn’t aware of how much time had passed. Quite frankly, it was irrelevant. Her daughter was quiet now, resting her head on her thighs, her towel-draped body curled on the bathroom floor, eyes blinking drowsily as she zoned out. Every now and then, she’d see a tear escape from Kagome’s eye and glide over the bridge of her nose. Her own tears had stopped, her cheeks dry, lips tingling from the hum of the melody she continued to comfort her daughter with. She knew and accepted, as difficult as it may be, that there was no physically protecting Kagome from a thing. Not Naraku, not demons, not the world, not fate, and not herself. Kagome was a fighter, and Kagome was the light that made your day better. Kagome was an angel and a beast all in one. And, if all she could offer was her lap, her solace, her arms, and her song to bring her daughter some form of peace, then nothing in the universe could stop her from providing it.

“I am so proud of you, little bird.” She whispered, raking her fingers through Kagome’s almost-dry hair, thick and wavy and neatly pulled away from her face. “You always try to do the right thing, no matter what. Your bravery may scare me, but that’s only because I’m your mother. Your bravery also amazes me. You’ve grown from this little girl afraid of spiders to a woman still afraid of spiders that will challenge demons without so much as a second thought.”

Kagome gave a weak giggle, snuggling just a little closer to her mom. It wasn’t often that her mother used her father’s nickname for her, but when she did, it was one of the most comforting things that seemingly quieted the world around. The thunder didn’t even stand a chance. With the heavy droplets of rain spilling from the edging of their roof to splash in the puddles on the ground, the pitter-patter hitting above them to create a continuous white noise, Kagome was finally stabilizing and grounding down to actuality.

“Spiders are gross.” Kagome muttered.

“I agree.” Her mom giggled. “Eight legs is just excessive.”

Kagome groaned, muffling her laugh. “And, don’t even get me started on centipedes.”

“The worst of all multi-legged insects.”

Slowly, Kagome lifted herself off of her mom, smiling slightly as her mother continued to comb her dark locks from her face.

“Your bangs are getting a little long.” She mentioned. “Want me to spruce them up tonight?”

“Please?” Kagome asked, nodding.

She grinned, caressing her daughter’s soft cheek. “Let’s get your hand wrapped and some food in your belly first.”

Kagome finally picked herself off the floor, following her mother out of the bathroom and parting in the small hall where she insisted she was well enough to dress herself. As soon as she shut the door to her room, Kagome released a deep and dreadful sigh, resisting the loud groan that could have easily accompanied it as she braced her weight on the wood of her door. Her decision was easy to make in the moment, while she was pinned to a wall, angry, and horrified, but after watching her mother breakdown, she struggled with it now. Leaving everyone behind for an undetermined amount of time would be extremely difficult. Leaving her mama behind to hurt and worry was the worst feeling in the world.

Because, truth be told, despite the promise she’d made her younger brother, there was no telling if she’d actually succeed.

There was no telling what she’d encounter beyond her village’s limits.

There was no telling anything.

Kagome wasn’t naive. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew she had no idea what she was getting herself into, that there was no direct path to her objective, that there was no given timeframe to count on. Hell, she didn’t even know what Naraku looked like.

Overall, she knew that she knew nothing. Other than she had to try.

As heavy as the guilt weighed to upset her mother, her family, in this way, Kagome wouldn’t be able to forgive herself for not trying. It was like rolling over, belly up, surrendering to more deaths, more chaos, more abuse and oppression. It made her stomach churn and her heart race. It made her blood boil from the fire building up in her abdomen.

She wouldn’t say she didn’t care about what happened to herself, because that wasn’t true. There were plenty of reasons to tend to her well-being, and no matter how reckless she naturally was, she vowed then and there to be as careful as she could. Leaving didn’t mean she was going to parade her powers about, nor openly proclaim that she was a conjurer. She was bold, not stupid. She would be cautious, watch her step, mind her P’s and Q’s, but take no shit when it came down to it.

Fine line, thin line, grey area and all, this was the best Kagome could offer right now.

How was it possible to be so dead set and confident on a decision while second-guessing yourself? Kagome could feel these negative thoughts slithering through her mind, reminding her that she wasn’t as physically strong as Sango, and she wasn’t as clever as Miroku. Running aimlessly through a region of unknown was idiotic, and she would be lucky if she wasn’t killed within two days. The loudest voice of all told her that she would never be able to take down Naraku on her own. And, she was a fool to think otherwise.

Kagome took a deep, steady breath, sighing out even slower as she tried to ease those thoughts away. She busied herself, lighting the candle on her nightstand for some extra light and dressing in some comfortable pajamas.

“Is this what you want?” She quietly asked herself, staring at an empty bag she’d splayed on her bed. When she pictured herself putting the bag away, saying no, and walking out of the room, she felt wrong. It felt wrong. When she pictured herself packing it with some clothes and necessities that could only be saved for last minute, she felt terrified. But, it felt right. “Yes.”

So, she discreetly went about her room, collecting a few items of clothing to alternate through, especially undergarments, little things she may want along the way, like something to tie her hair back with, a brush, and the fresh box of matches in her drawer. Her bag had plenty of room leftover, which was planned, and she tucked it under her bed - next to which she placed a pair of dark pants, a green blouse, and her most comfortable, short bodice. As far as materials were concerned, Kagome was ready to go.

She stopped as her fingers gripped the handle of the door. Her decision, though right, was nerve wracking. She felt sick, scared, discouraged, and she wasn’t even on her way yet. The thoughts, the plaguing negativity, like a flashing, red light going off and distracting her from her objective, were what was deterring her strength. She needed to silence them, needed to sway them for good.

You aren’t as strong as Sango.

No. She wasn’t. That was a straight fact and there was no competition. Sango was a badass, came from a line of badasses, and lived by the motto, “kicking ass and taking names.” She was fast, though. Kagome was nimble and reacted almost as well as Sango would. She deserved credit in that area.

You aren’t as clever as Miroku.

That was only somewhat true. Miroku was sixty percent brains and forty percent brawn. Sure, he was smart. Kagome, on the other hand, was resourceful. Miroku was cunning, and Kagome was witty. Miroku could talk others into doing something, while Kagome could talk herself and others out of trouble. Together, they were a pretty good team, but they could still survive apart.

You’re going to get yourself killed. You don’t even know where you’re going.

If she was meant to do this, then she’d pull through. But, she’d rather die trying than accept life as it is. Kagome could figure this out. By no means did she believe any part of this would be easy, but she refused to believe it wasn’t possible.

You will never be able to take down Naraku on your own.

Kagome let that one sit for a moment. It wasn’t to let it eat at her, it was more to feel it out. Would she? Honestly, when she pictured it happening, the scene was a blur. Naraku was there, he just didn’t have a face or a body. Kagome could feel it though, the sensation overwhelming in her gut. She would, no doubt, meet Naraku at some point or another. The only thing was, peculiar as it may be, she wasn’t alone. Her intuition was showing her not just one, but a number of people at her side. All of them ready to end things with this horrible, wretched demon. It may be the conjurers, but something told Kagome to wait and see. So, she gripped the knob of her door a little tighter, a little more confident. The thought gradually became impertinent. She wasn’t worried about facing Naraku alone, because she wouldn’t be alone. From what she’d like to guess, to hope, far from it.

“Don’t touch it, Sota.” Kagome heard her mom say as she wandered out toward the living room.

“But, he said he couldn’t feel it.” Sota responded.

“For real, Auntie! I can’t feel a thing.” Miroku declared. “It’s like magic.”

“No, it’s like medicine. Eat your soup.”

“How much did you give him?” Kagome asked skeptically as she joined her family, side-eyeing her cousin as he smiled goofily from his spot on the couch. She was surprised to see him sitting up, and even more surprised from his apparent bleary state that he hadn’t dropped his bowl yet.

“Well, I might have given him a dash more than what’s recommended.” Her mother sheepishly replied, hiding her face as she scooped stew into a bowl with her ladle.

“A dash?”

“A pinch.”

“How much is a serving?”

“A - um - tablespoon?”

“Mama, why was that a question?”

“Mom, how much did you give him!?” Sota guffawed, leaning forward over one of the chairs at the table.

“Look, he doesn’t feel any pain, so as far as I’m concerned, I gave him enough.” She defended, cheeks a deep shade of pink.

Both Sota and Kagome failed at biting back their humor, doubling over from laughing so hard. She glanced at her cousin, her complacent, happy, clueless-looking cousin and sauntered his way.

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” She sweetly asked, giggling.

“Pretty good.” He nodded, grinning wider. “Definitely can’t complain. This stew is delightful.”

Kagome bit her lip, bating her breath as she turned on her heel to look at her mom. “Mama, he said ‘delightful.’”

“Yes, I heard him.”

“To die for.” Miroku dramatically added.

Kagome resisted her knee-jerk reaction to take the loosely-gripped bowl from his one-handed grip, seeing he was clutching it just tight enough to keep it from spilling. She bit down on her bottom lip harder, trying as hard as she could not to laugh as Miroku took a long and loud slurp of food off of his spoon. Behind her, she heard her little brother snort into his arm, trying to stifle himself, too.

“How you feeling? A little high?” Kagome queried.

“High? No, I’m sitting.”

She lost it then, laughing so hard she wheezed, clutching her sides and folding over again.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” Kagome’s mother sighed as she set two bowls of soup on the table. “Yes, your cousin is heavily medicated but at least he’s comfortable. Now, come eat, please.”

“Hey, mom, can I have a pinch over a serving of whatever was on his menu?” Sota asked, taking his seat and gesturing to Miroku by pointing his thumb over his shoulder behind him.

“You may not.” She said, unamused.

“It’s for science.”

“Yeah? Tell me one scientific thing you know.” She tested, her level expression holding strong.

Sota froze, mouth hanging agape as he pondered, his brown eyes drifting away from his mother as he grew nervous. “Uh, rain - rain comes from clouds.”

“Mhm, good job. Eat your food.” She dismissed. She pulled out the chair next to Kagome as she sat at the table, bringing the disinfectant, salve, cotton balls, and bandage wrappings closer. Once Kagome got situated, swallowing what remained of her laughter and pulling her bowl of stew closer, she ushered for her left hand.

“It can wait, mama.” Kagome said. “You should eat, too.”

“I would feel much better knowing this was taken care of first.”

“Then, I’ll do it myself. You don’t have to worry.” She stated sincerely, but with the slightly sad slant of her mother’s eyes, she regretted the innocent suggestion immediately.

Who was Kagome to deny her mother a simple, tender, and loving act that would most likely, in turn, provide her with a sense of comfort? As much as Kagome didn’t want to think of the circumstances of their evening, or the happenings of their day, it played a significant role in the lack of glimmer in her mom’s eyes. She couldn’t prevent the harm that Kagome endured today, but she wanted to clean up the mess.

Steadily, Kagome turned her wrist palm-up and slid it over the wood of the table toward her mother. She let her do as she pleased, once more studying the inflamed wound while Kagome minded her own and blew on the spoonful of stew in front of her mouth. She was lucky that she hadn’t choked as she gasped at the same time she’d taken a bite, hearing the sizzle from the disinfectant while her mom continued to use a generous amount on her cut.

“I hope they don’t make this sort of inspection a habit.” Her mother grumbled.

Kagome kept her mouth shut, feeling like her mom was passed the sad and disturbed stages of the incident, and had transitioned to the angry phase. Her mom wasn’t the type to outright express her frustration. It was more visible in her body language and the deeper set tone she’d carry. She often busied herself with something, like cleaning or cooking, in an attempt to either distract herself or keep from coming off harsh in any manner. It was a classic way to dissipate her anxiety so she could come out of it calm and collected. Kagome figured tending to her hand was a two-birds-one-stone sort of deal.

She swallowed the stew on her tongue, allowing the heat from the meal to glide down her throat. It was slightly painful, but simultaneously soothing. She knew it wouldn’t be a comfort like hot liquid to a sore throat would be when you’re down with a cold, but it was still mildly satisfying to feel it go down. She avoided the large chunks of meat for the time being. She knew her mom would be happier if she ate everything in her bowl, but swallowing anything more than liquid right now just wasn’t appetizing.

Kagome peeked over at her little brother, not at all surprised to find him looking back. He held a wary look in his eyes, a brow slightly cocked, and she knew it was due to the way their mother had leaned her face just inches away from Kagome’s wound, little huffs of agitation coming from her nostrils as she paid close attention to clean every little centimeter of the surface. It wasn’t big by any means. Sure, it was larger than Sango’s, but her hand, itself, was relatively small as it was, and the gash went from the center toward the side. Maybe two inches at most, and angled crookedly. There was no way into their mother’s head, but Kagome was willing to bet she was being diligent for her own peace of mind as well as the fact that Kagome had not only gotten a good helping of mud in the cut, but also another’s blood. It was important to be thorough, and Kagome wasn’t about to complain. Not with the life of her palm in her mother’s hands.

Sota made a very subtle gesture at Kagome, one that wouldn’t catch their mom’s peripheral vision. He pointed in her direction then made the “OK” sign with his fingers, asking if she was alright. Kagome responded with a tiny nod, fighting back a wince when her mom tightly wrapped up her hand from the base of her fingers to her wrist after slathering it in ointment.

“Not too tight?” Her mom inquired, giving Kagome her hand back.

“Nope. It’s perfect. Thanks, mama.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little, but it’s bearable.”

“Okay, love.” She stood, kissing the top of Kagome’s head. “Eat as much as you can. At least some of the vegetables, please. I’ll make some tea. I want you all in bed soon.”

No one had an argument for her. Not even Sota. It was typical of him to want to stay up, but tonight, no matter what the time actually was, it felt exceptionally later. Again, Kagome found herself looking over at him, unsurprised to find him returning the stare. The end of their night also meant their goodbye. And, she could see the uneasiness in his eyes. How could she convince him that everything would be alright? How could she make him drop the obvious concern so the rest of their family wouldn’t notice and ask what was wrong? The only thing she could think to do to rest his anxiety was to smile. So, she did. Kagome gave her brother a small, reassuring grin, but all it worked to do was make his eyes fall away. Much like their mother, he busied himself to hide his emotions, bringing his bowl up to his face to drink the remainder of his broth.

The tea was like heaven, the hints of chamomile and honey the most comforting to her throat. The house had grown quiet, the tension from outside beginning to trickle in. Miroku rested his back against the arm of the couch, still seemingly pain-free. He’d only taken a couple of sips of his tea before closing his eyes and releasing an unsteady sigh, and Kagome wondered if there was a bit of discomfort he wasn’t showing, if the medicine was making him drowsy, if he couldn’t stomach anything more, or all of the above. Sota, Kagome, and their mother all continued to sit at the small table, embracing the silence. Much like she’d expected the moment the demons left their village, there wasn’t always going to be something that could be said. There wasn’t always going to be something that could make them forget, because there was no possible way to do that. What had happened - the terror, agony, heartbreak, and failure - it all was going to demand to be recognized.

The thunder had calmed momentarily, the rain still falling, though not quite as hard. And, as if the universe was working to solidly confirm that Kagome’s initial assumption was correct, a dreadful, broken, gut wrenching cry was heard from several homes over.

Kagome’s attention shot toward their door, her heart dropping into her pelvis. It was the mother of the conjurer grieving, releasing her sorrow, and Kagome could only imagine the horrible feeling of having to inhabit a house where her daughter could no longer dance around, and play, and laugh, and bring the joy a nine year-old girl naturally does.

She missed the thunder immediately. She missed her cousin’s natural instincts to lighten the mood with terribly-timed and inappropriate jokes. She missed yesterday when this misery had yet to exist.

“Oh, your bangs.” Kagome’s mom said, louder than her typically soft tone, as if to both busy herself and distract them all from listening to the crying. She decidedly spoke every word that came to mind, announcing her thoughts and letting them fumble off her tongue to keep her children’s attention as she stood from her seat and wandered about the room. “Now, where did I put those scissors? You know, when Miroku still trusted me to cut his hair, I thought it’d be a good idea to use a bowl to shape it. I honestly don’t know what I was thinking. I pictured it coming out as this neatly-tousled look since his hair naturally holds some waves, but that was certainly not the case. Miroku, you remember this, right?” She paused for his answer, turning around from the little drawer she rummaged through to find her nephew giving her this distasteful grimace.

“Do you realize we almost went fifteen years without mentioning that?” He muttered.

“Oh, hush. It wasn’t that bad.” She dismissed with a meager wave of her hand, going back to shifting about as she sought out the scissors.

“You gave him a bowl cut!?” Sota chuckled. “No wonder he doesn’t trust you to cut his hair anymore.”

“No, no, that wasn’t the kicker. Tell them, Auntie. Tell them what you did to me.” Miroku grumbled. He was groggy, his body feeling stiff and heavy as he melted further into the couch, the medicine leaving his head and flowing through the muscles of his arms, torso, hips, and legs. But, he knew what his aunt was trying to do, and this was all he could offer to contribute to the conversation and keep words flowing to help drown out the crying that haunted their town.

“I - uh - oh! Here they are!” She said brightly, presenting the scissors. “I accidentally missed.”

“Missed?” Kagome asked.

“I missed.” Her mom nodded.

“She missed.” Miroku confirmed.

“What did you miss?” Sota asked skeptically.

“The hair - his hair. I missed - I missed his hair. Um, you know how I take the strands in between my fingers and trim the ends beneath? Well, instead of that, I went above. Above my fingers. By a lot.”

“Wh- how!?” Kagome pressed.

“I was a little distracted. And, apparently, your cousin knows how to hold a grudge.”

“Well, Auntie, how about I give your hair a trim and we call it even? No pun intended.”

“Hah! How about not.”

“What were you so distracted by?” Sota asked.

“Your father. He was - uh - talking to me.”

“He was shirtless, you heathen!” Miroku shouted, his voice cracking from the emphatics.

Kagome stifled her snort, her attention landing on her mother’s reddened face, who could only give an awkward grin. She started laughing at both the embarrassment on her mom's cheeks and the fact that something like that had ruined Miroku’s hair and trust.

“Oh my god, is that why you wore that hat for, like, two months straight!?” Kagome asked, her mouth hanging agape.

“She had to even it out the best she could while both of our dad’s laughed, and let me tell you, the style did not suit me.” Miroku replied.

“I thought it was cute.” His aunt shrugged.

“Well, you would. It was your handiwork.”

“It was more that your cheeks were so round, and your head was so big, so super short hair really helped make it pop.”

“Hey! I did not have a big head!”

“Yeah, you did.” Both Kagome and her mother chimed synchronously.

“Awe, man. No fair. I don’t remember any of that stuff.” Sota groaned.

“Sorry, Sota. I think that happened when Miroku was, what? Seven?” His mom said, unsure.

“Eight.” Miroku corrected.

“Right. So, Kagome would have been five or six, and you would have just been born.”

“Actually, I think you were still pregnant with the munchkin. Explains why you were so thirsty for -“

“Ah! Okay, no! I was not thirsty, first of all! Second, how are you still so inappropriate right now? Go to sleep! Kagome, let me see your bangs.” Her mother directed, clearly flustered and ending the subject there.

Kagome couldn’t help but back her seat away as her mama approached to sit beside her, the wooden chair legs scraping against the wooden floor. “I’m gonna have to ask you to calm down first, thank you very much. Considering how easily distracted you’ve been proven to be, I’m not sure this is such a good idea with your current state.”

“Fine. Sota, would you do the honors?” Her mother sarcastically asked, sliding the scissors across the table.

“Gladly.” He grinned.

“Wait! No! Why would he do it!? Why would your first suggestion be to hand the scissors to him!?”

“Would you like me to trim your bangs?” Her mother cocked a brow, a slightly proud smile curving her lips.

“Yes, please.” Kagome grumbled in defeat, scooting her chair back to where it was and presenting the hair at the front of her brow.

“That’s what I thought.” Her mom giggled, taking the scissors back from her son and kissing Kagome’s forehead. “Sota, go hop in the bath, please. I want you clean and warm before bed.”

He nodded, rising from his seat, and as he went to walk by, she stopped him, pulled him down by his arms, and planted a sweet kiss to his head, as well.

Steadily, she spruced up Kagome’s bangs, even going so far as to shorten up the little layers she’d given her a while ago at the sides of her face to frame her jaw. Her daughter was serene beneath her touch, fully trusting, and she thanked the tea and the loudening rain for soothing Kagome’s nerves from what they were in the bathroom.

The crying from the mourning mother was, once again, drowned out for the most part. Now and again she could be heard, and quite frankly, she felt the mother should be heard. She should be heard all over the country, the world, and her cries should echo in the ears of the demons who had the gall to take her baby from her. Her wailing should be the only thing they’re sentenced to listen to for the rest of their days, and if they have ever done this to another, all those mothers should play over each other. Like an infinite ringing of misery for only the assailants to hear. She could imagine their prideful smiles at first, but like anybody else, they would eventually fall to their knees and beg for the agony to end.

They had the audacity to call humans selfish. Humans, at least, had hearts.

“There. All done.” She grinned, placing the scissors on the table and dusting the trimmings of dark hair from Kagome’s shirt. Gently, she cupped her daughter’s cheeks, staring into her big, brown eyes for a moment before leaning forward and kissing her forehead again. “Let’s get Miroku into bed.”

“Don’t worry about it, mama. I’ll get him. I can handle it.” Kagome said, turning around to glimpse at her resting cousin.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Alright. I’ll make him a little mixture that’ll help him sleep through the night. I’ll be in the room in a moment.”

Kagome stood from her seat, sauntering over to the couch were she softly rubbed her fingers over Miroku’s sternum. He didn’t move, so she tried again, whispering his name. When he didn’t rouse that time, she tapped his collarbone, knowing, for whatever reason, that he hated being touched there. Miroku cringed, like a shiver was running down his spine, and squished his shoulder up closer to his ear to stop the weird sensation.

“Hm?” He grumbled.

“Come on, time for bed.” Kagome continued to whisper.

“Why can’t you ever wake me up a normal way?” He asked as he very slowly began to sit up, his voice raspy.

“Because, I don’t want to.” She replied simply, noticing his slight flinch. “Are you in pain?”

“Don’t ask.”

“Too late.”

“It’s not that bad. It comes and goes because of the medicine.”

“All depending on your positioning, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Alright, let me help.” Kagome extended her hand to him, and when he took it, she gripped it tight, pulling it closer to her chest for stability, and firmly grasped his elbow with her other. “Ready?”

He nodded, taking a deep breath and holding it in as he pushed his legs to stand and she yanked him up the rest of the way. It was all he could do to swallow the gasp of pain his throat went to release by reaction, only allowing an airy hiss to glide from his lips. He wrapped his arm over Kagome’s shoulders once his feet got situated beneath him, knowing she could handle the weight he braced on her. His muscles just weren’t working with him - whether it be due to discomfort or just a lack of mobility. He blamed the medicine for the latter. He felt lightheaded as soon as he was vertical and had to really take a moment to shut his eyes and gain his bearings. His cousin was patient though, standing still, holding him up with only minor swaying, and waiting for him to initiate the walk forward.

With only a few stumbles here and there, Kagome managed to get Miroku into his and Sota’s shared room in one piece, slowly and carefully lowering him onto his bed at the far end. She helped him get situated beneath the covers, making sure he was comfortable as he allowed his body to sink into his mattress.

“Mama’s gonna come in with more medicine for you.” She said softly. “Bet you miss your high now, huh?”

“It was short-lived, I’ll admit.” He chuckled.

She giggled in return, taking a moment to find the matches and light a candle in the corner of the room for just a little extra light.

“Hey,” Miroku spoke. “Come here.”

“I wasn’t leaving yet.” She mentioned, shaking the fire of her match out, setting it in the trash, and walking back over to him. Cautiously, Kagome sat on the edge of the bed beside him, giving a meager smile.

“How are you?” He asked with sincerity, and it was clear he was referring to what had happened earlier that day.

“Don’t ask.” She said.

“Too late.” He bounced her own reply off of her.

Kagome couldn’t find it in her to give an answer to that question. She felt an immense amount of guilt for everything going through her head, for her decision to head out on her own, and especially for the beating he’d taken earlier. He was down for the count, while she was the one who’d gotten him into that trouble. Yet, she was perfectly fine, walking around, with only a soreness in and on her neck and a throbbing headache that would, no doubt, go away quicker than the ache in his ribs.

“Are they broken?” She asked, avoiding his own question.

“Don’t know. I don’t think so, but we gotta wait for the doc to determine whether they are or not.”

Kagome nodded in acknowledgment, bowing her head and eyes for a small moment before looking back into his dark blue irises. “I’m sorry.”

“I knew that was coming.” Miroku chuckled. “Shut up. You know I don’t blame you.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” She shakily replied.

“So, you were the one who kicked me repeatedly?”

Kagome winced at the visual.

“You were the one who ordered the demons to attack me?”

“Miroku -“

“You were the one -“

“I get it. No.” She interjected, stopping him from taking her mind back to the scene.

“But, it was because you ran out in the first place that the whole thing happened, right? That what you were gonna say? And, also because you mentioned Kikyo, which was how the whole thing escalated so drastically?”

“Is it wrong?”

“Yes and no.” He stated with a shrug of his brow. “I mean, would I have gotten my ass kicked if you’d stayed in line? Maybe not. But, that’s much worse, in my opinion. That means we all would have just stood by and watched. It’s almost as bad as the culprits if you think about it. And, you mentioning Kikyo isn’t that out of pocket. I probably would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes. Saying something like that, as impulsive as it may have been, and as dangerous as it had proven to be, doesn’t put you in the wrong. You had solid and good intentions. You didn’t expect anything that had happened today, so get your head out of the toxic mindset that I know it’s sitting in. Focus on what I’m saying, okay? I ran in to try to get him off of you because you’re my family. I’m going to protect you the best that I can. Not once did I think, ‘Oh man, there goes Kagome, getting herself into trouble again.’ My thought process was, and still stands, that they had no fucking right to touch you. The only thing going through my head was to make sure he didn’t kill you. And, I took an ass whooping because I wasn’t strong enough to handle them. Apparently, brute strength isn’t my forte.”

Kagome couldn’t stop her little laugh from escaping. She shook her head, her little grin remaining as she bowed down to rest on her cousin’s chest, not quite placing much of her weight on him.

“You know damn well that if I felt something was your fault, I’d tell you. Bluntly.” Miroku mentioned, rubbing her arm.

“I know.” She giggled again. “But, I still feel bad.”

“Well, stop.”

“On it.” She grunted sarcastically. As if it were that easy.

“One more thing, and this is the most important part, okay?”

“What?” Kagome asked into his chest, feeling it was safe enough to place a little more weight on him when he hugged her, pulling her closer so he could whisper in her ear.

“Not a single one of us knew there was another conjurer nearby. Don’t you dare begin to think that there was anything you could have done to prevent her death.”

Slowly, very slowly, Kagome pushed herself to sit up. It probably wasn’t the hardest thing to do to guess one of the most plaguing thoughts on her mind - she really wasn’t a difficult person to read - but it was still a thing Miroku could easily point out, even in the most difficult of moments.

“You and your frankness.” She sighed.

“You’re gonna be fine, Kagome.” He reassured her, noticing the way her brown eyes couldn’t meet his. “We all are. This won’t last forever.”

Kagome nodded, not able to respond before her mother came in with his next serving of medicine. She used the moment to lighten the mood a little, giving her cousin a side glance.

“Have fun in your coma.”

“Ha - haha - ha. So funny.” He remarked, cringing at the ill-tasting mixture of ground herbs coming his way.

She wished him goodnight then slipped out of the room, sauntering to her own and getting comfortable on her bed. It wasn’t too long before her mom came in to turn things down and make sure she was comfortable. Kagome had to put valiant effort into not making her emotions obvious when she was hugged close. She had to remind herself not to hold on for longer than normal, or cling tighter, or become the least bit shaky, knowing this was the last time she’d see her for a while.

If not the last time ever.

Kagome took a steadying breath, forcing that negative thought from her mind, and when her mama looked at her, she was as composed as ever. Those bad thoughts had no place seeping through. If she was going to do this, which she was, she was going to have to be as strong as possible.

“Goodnight, Kagome. I love you.”

“Love you too, mama.” She smiled, enjoying her warm touch before she left the room, leaving the door cracked.

It was only moments later that a small knock on her door greeted her, bringing her attention back over as her younger brother snuck through, quietly closing it all the way.

“Hey.” Sota whispered, seeming uncertain where he lingered. Kagome knew what he’d shown up for though, so she crawled out of bed. It’s almost like her welcome served as his initiative, and he moved forward, somewhat hurriedly, meeting her halfway and colliding straight into a hug.

His arms wrapped firmly around her sides, fingers gripping into the back of her shirt as his cheek pushed uncomfortably into the bone of her shoulder. He didn’t care. Sota only pulled his sister closer, unable to take a full breath from the frazzled nerves that kept him from letting her go just yet.

“Come back.”

“I will.” Kagome responded softly.

“Be safe.”

“You, too.”

Sota somehow managed to pull her even closer, holding her as tight as his arms would allow. “I mean it, Kagome. I know you can do it. So, prove it.”

Kagome appreciated the challenge. He knew it was something that got her heart sparking and the gears in her mind turning to find solutions.

He felt the nod she gave, her own arms matching his fervor as they wrapped snuggly around his shoulders. “And, you’re sure there’s no way I can talk you out of this?”

Kagome giggled lightly, shaking her head. “Come on, you’re really gonna say that after giving me encouragement?”

Sota chuckled, himself. “Worth a shot.” He said, finally releasing his sister and taking a step back. “Do you have everything you’ll need?”

“I think so. I should be good.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Isn’t that the question of the century.” She stated more than asked, the sarcasm clear on her tongue. Broadening her shoulders, Kagome leveled her expression, her brown eyes locking with Sota’s. “Look, I need you to do some things while I’m gone. You’re going to have to be strong. Don’t worry about having to be strong enough for the both of us in my absence; I don’t want that pressure on your shoulders. But, you’ll still need to amp it up a bit, buddy. Keep mama safe, and help Miroku with the heavy duty stuff - he won’t be able to lift things for a while. Things are going to be tense when they find out I’m gone, so expect a spike in stress levels, okay?”

“Okay.” He gave a curt nod.

“Help mama. I know this is going to be hard on her. Tell her I love her. Please.”

“I will.”

“When and if Naraku’s men come back, whatever you do, do not bring attention to the fact that I’m missing. Hopefully, they won’t even notice, but I made the mistake of standing out today so there is a possibility. If they do happen to notice, make something up. Tell them I’m out at the market or something. You know the drill. And, lastly, I need you to take care of yourself. You can’t help if you’re sick or hurt. Mama would be devastated if anything happened to you, and I’m not going to be around to protect you. So, here’s your first lesson in fighting: prioritize your safety and wellbeing. Can you do that?”

“Yeah.” Sota appeared to have stood up taller as he said that, nodding again as his brows twitched with determination. “What about Miroku?”

“He can’t do much in his current condition. Hopefully, he’ll be back on his feet soon, but as of right now, he’s out. We’re covered with wood and food for a while, and Sango and Kohaku will be more than happy to help out - and most likely will without even being asked - but that still means you’ll have to compensate here and there. When it comes to Naraku’s men, he can take care of himself, but he can’t step in for anyone at the moment. Just - I don’t know - do whatever you feel is the smartest thing depending on the situation. You’re pretty clever, so I have faith in you. I’m assuming once Miroku’s back to normal, or close enough, he’ll be on my tail.”

“I figured that, too. Good luck whenever that happens.”

Kagome let out an overwhelmed snicker. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

“Anything else?” He asked, seemingly taking mental notes on everything she tasked him with.

Kagome took a moment to rack her brain, unable to come up with something off the top of her head. She kept opening her mouth to say something, her tongue clicking, but she’d stop herself every time because she’d realized she’d only be repeating herself. Resolutely, she shook her head.

“Right. Well, I’ve got things covered here, sis. You don’t have to worry about it. Just focus on your goal.”

“Big words.” Kagome grinned, admiring her younger sibling. “I’m not worried about a thing. I trust you.” She saw his shoulders widen at the confidence she presented him with, observing how his smile was one of pride. “Remember what I said, okay? This is officially your first bit of training.”

“Right.”

“Good. Now, go back to bed. Mama’s still awake, and she might notice you’re up soon.” Kagome said, ruffling her brother’s hair.

“Okay. I guess this is goodbye.” There was a slight waver in his lips, in his tone.

“No.” Kagome gave a scrunch of her nose. “I’ll see you later.”

“See ya.” He mouthed, the whisper of his tongue hardly notable. Sota gave her one last glance before slipping from her bedroom, shutting the door on his way out.

Kagome listened to the rain with as much contentment as was possible in the anticipating moment, the thunder never returning from it’s earlier pause. She felt they were on the latter half of the storm that would soon calm and clear away, and figured it would only be another couple of hours before she could slip out and begin her unnerving adventure. Laying her head against her pillow, she got comfortable, eyes on the dancing flame of her candle as she busied her efforts to keep the nervous thoughts at bay. She wondered where she was meant to go and what, exactly, she was meant to do out there. What did Kikyo mean by this being their responsibility? Were other conjurers actually in the mix? Would she meet them soon after leaving here? Or, was she bound to be alone until joining the group immediately before their fight with Naraku? Additionally, how soon was that fight going to be? Tomorrow? Next week? Months from now? Sometimes, Kagome felt that not knowing the answers was the worst form of lack of control to exist.

But, then the earlier thought returned to her mind. What if there were no other conjurers? It didn’t mean that there were no other surviving conjurers out there, it was more like she was the only conjurer Kikyo was in communication with. Was that the case? For some horrible reason, Kagome had the gut wrenching feeling that it was true. When Kikyo said “ours,” she meant Kagome and herself. It didn’t make sense, though. Why? What about Kagome attracted Kikyo’s undivided attention?

It was an idea that Kagome told herself over and over to put to rest. There was no use in figuring out someone else’s thought process. There was no use fighting for control over something she didn’t even know how to gain control over. There was only flowing with the process, trusting it, and figuring things out along the way. What was stronger than the gut feeling that she may potentially be the only conjurer Kikyo was referring to, was that things would eventually sort themselves out. Things would be okay. She just had to take it all one step at a time.

As soon as she’d closed her eyes, Kagome found herself at the base of the tree line at the back of their house. It was dark, barely drizzling, the mud beneath her feet more of a liquid than a clumpy mess of wet dirt. She was dressed in what she wore earlier that day, her hand bleeding, dripping of her own and the child’s blood. Her cheek still stung from the slap she’d received from that monster, her throat aching with the reminder of each finger he’d wrapped around her neck, and her head a confused and clustered mess of unsorted thoughts. She was soaked through, shivering from the anxiety and the cold, and when she looked through the break in the trees, as dark as it was, she saw a woman’s figure looking back at her. She stood beside the rope ladder that led to the treehouse Kagome and Sota’s father had built for them, her fingers hooking around the rope to make it swing.

Kagome blinked profusely, trying to make her eyes adjust faster to the lack of light, trying to make her eyes focus on each detail of the woman several feet away from her. She had skin as light as pearl, the curves of someone a little more mature than she, eyes that were too dark to catch a shred of a glimmer but still, somehow, held the evidence of someone who’d seen too much for her age. Her hair, long, ebony, straight, hanging loosely over her shoulders and down to her hips was the dead giveaway. Kikyo. It was Kikyo.

“You.” Kagome breathed.

“Wake up.” Kikyo said, walking closer. She was dressed in perfectly-fitted pants, a tucked and loose blouse - so loose, it looked like she may have taken a man’s shirt and made it her own - and leather boots that met her knees. Over her shoulder sat a leather quiver filled with arrows, a bow strapped right next to it.

“What?”

“It’s time to go.”

“Go? Go where?”

“Kagome, stop asking questions.”

“You know my name?”

“Of course, I do. I know plenty about you and what you offer; you should know that by now. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

Kagome held her breath, waiting for the words this powerful conjurer was about to say. Her stomach twisted and knotted, her lip trembled with nerves she couldn’t fight, and all aching in the rest of her body went silent. This was surreal. It was the clearest she’d ever seen Kikyo. It was the loudest she’d ever heard her. This wasn’t a pre-recorded memo delivered to her unconscious state; Kagome actually felt like she was living out this moment.

“It’s time to go.”

Kikyo stood at the edge of the tree line. At the edge of the forest. Her dark eyes locked with Kagome’s, not a single thing about her unsteady, unsure, or fragmented.

Her lips parted once more, her tone more demanding and direct. “Wake up. It’s time to go.”

Kagome gasped, eyes shooting open as she stared at the weakened fire of the candle she’d never blown out. Had she fallen asleep? For how long?

She listened carefully, taking in her surroundings. There was barely any sound of rain, the house was painfully quiet, and the world outside seemed at peace. Still, her mind was loud, energetic, alive with Kikyo’s statement. It was time to go.

Kagome got out of bed, lowering to her knees to reach beneath and pull her things forward. Hastily, she dressed in her chosen outfit, tying her bodice securely and then shoving her feet into the boots beside her closet to pull up and sit snugly mid-calf. In her little mirror, she fixed up her face and ran her fingers through her hair, feeling as satisfied as one could feel in a spontaneous moment to leave.

And, it needed to remain spontaneous. Kagome couldn’t allow herself a moment to look back at the room, the house, and bask in the nostalgia and happy memories. If she did, the doubt would only have a crack to seep back through. Kagome couldn’t allow herself a moment to wish her family well and say goodbye. Spontaneous meant now, and now it was. It was time to go.

Silently, Kagome pushed her window open after strapping her bag over her shoulder. The air was nippy and she wished she’d thought to grab her cloak, but it hung in the entryway of their home. There was no easy or worthwhile way to grab it. She’d be fine. It wasn’t winter, so no matter what, she wouldn’t freeze to death. Kagome climbed over and out, hanging onto the windowsill until she knew her feet would meet the ground without slipping from beneath her.

It was like the action of leaving simultaneously stole the breath from her lungs and gave her vigor. It was terrifying and happening, but nothing was stopping her right now. She kept her sloshing footsteps as quiet as she could, making her way around the siding of their home and toward the back where she’d seen Kikyo.

She wasn’t there. Kagome wasn’t all that surprised, but the dream had seemed so vivid. It was like the conjurer had literally stood just feet away a mere moment ago, and yet the gap in the trees remained as empty as ever. Still, Kagome pushed herself to follow through, resisting the fluttering sensation in her chest to turn around one last time. To give a mental goodbye. She couldn’t.

Somehow, walking through the forest line felt like she was walking through a barrier of sorts. She’d traveled through numerous times, but this time was different. It was like passing through a wall, the boundary holding everything back but her, signifying the beginning of whatever Kagome was bound to face.

She walked up the little path, her eyes still wandering about, looking for Kikyo. When she’d caught something moving to the left in front of her, her attention snapped that way immediately, surprised with the sight of the rope ladder gently swaying. There was no wind to be had, the drizzle of the ending storm barely making it through the treetops to freckle Kagome’s cheeks.

“Kikyo?” She asked, her voice still raspy from the damage she’d taken - and, she figured it would remain that way for a few days at the very least.

No answer.

“Kikyo, are you there?” Kagome tried again, approaching the ladder and grabbing it to stop the rhythm.

Silence.

“Where do I go?” But, as soon as the question had left her tongue, she felt in her core that she knew the answer. She had a plan to head to the cave they’d always trained at on the far outskirts of the village. That’s where they’d hidden their supplies for the day they’d eventually leave. That’s where her bow and arrows were.

Kagome headed that way, her pace quick. There was no way in hell she was about to be alone in the dark, traveling the woodlands without a weapon to keep her safe. The entire way there, and especially as she got closer, she kept her senses alert. If there were demons around, she needed to be careful. Thankfully, she felt absolutely nothing in the air. She was safe. So, she ran through the entrance of the cave, traveling toward a nook, and pulling out the bag.

She found herself mentally apologizing to Miroku and Sango for, what felt like, thievery. Hopefully, if they ever decided to come after her - which was a terrifying thought, because she couldn’t imagine her cousin going easy on her when they caught up - they’d think ahead to restock. She could imagine them being impulsive, grabbing the items, and heading off without realizing she’d taken some important things, but knowing Miroku, as smart as he was capable of being, he’d realize Kagome wouldn’t walk out empty-handed.

The medical supplies were on the top of her list, so she fished them out and transferred the kit into the bag she planned to carry. Then some dried food they’d recently collected, because she really wasn’t the best hunter. She could catch fish pretty well, but when it came to land animals, for some reason, it was a completely different story. The half-full water canteen was next, and she went ahead and took a sip of it before sliding the bottle to sit at the side of her bag. Kagome shoved her hand to the very bottom of the sack, wriggling her fingers to find the handle to something that must have gotten buried beneath everything else by accident. When she felt the cold end of the metal butt, she grasped for it, pulling free the small hunting knife that used to belong to her father.

It was something he’d always carried on him, something he’d purchased before she was even born, and when his ashes were buried, she’d not-so-subtly stolen the knife away so it wasn’t taken with him. She slipped the sheathed blade into the side of her boot, moving her leg around so it fit comfortably in between.

There was a pocket on the inside of the bag, and she reached in, pulling out a pouch of money they’d raised together doing little side jobs around the area and even outside of town. That one she felt the worst for taking, but there was no way she could do this without something to fall back on. It was for emergencies, and she would be frugal. Once Kagome had grabbed all that she’d come for, she walked to the opposite side of the cave. Behind a large rock, safe and tucked away from plain view, sat Sango’s sword, Miroku’s staff, and Kagome’s own bow and quiver of arrows. She carefully made sure the other weapons didn’t fall as she pulled hers free, adjusting the quiver and bow to sit securely over her shoulder.

Feeling confident that she had all that she needed, Kagome headed out. Without stopping to figure out a direction, she let her feet and gut lead the way, careful of her footing over rocks until she met the muddy path that guided her deep into the forest. It was still pitch black out, the moon hidden behind thick clouds that once roared over their village. Kagome couldn’t move as fast as she wanted at the moment, her eyes refusing to completely adjust, and therefore having to mind what she walked over carefully.

She walked until light began to show over the distant mountains, a very patchy, blue and grey glow greeting the new day. It had been hours and Kagome was fatigued, willing to bet she’d only dozed off for a short amount of time before she left her home. The morning smelled of dew, the clouds above her were thinning, little sections beginning to break away for the first time in several days.

The ground wasn’t as wet here, having apparently managed to travel far enough away from the center of the storm. Her heels didn’t sink into the earth, and the air didn’t smell of rain. Hadn’t in miles. She felt no demonic or dangerous forces around, didn’t hear the wake up call of the animals, and knew she was safe and alone.

The mere thought of wandering further at the moment was exhausting. She’d gotten far enough away from her town, and didn’t recognize a single thing around her. So, she located a small clearing a little ways off of her path, one that seemed dry and cozy enough - relatively speaking, of course. She gathered wood and kindling that wasn’t wet, which was a feat on it’s own; she was ready to give up before she found enough to start a little fire for warmth. And, as Kagome got it going, bathing in the heat it provided as it grew to a moderate size, she leaned back against a tree, snuggling up to herself. Honestly, she’d meant to stay awake. Her intentions were merely to rest until she could gather enough energy to continue on and find an inn of some sort far off. Evidently, her eyes had a plan of their own; a more domineering plan. They grew heavy, they stung with weariness, and they closed of their own accord, dragging Kagome to sleep.

—

Boots clapped against the ground, amber eyes, illuminated and daring, locked on their target. He smiled crookedly, tongue gliding over his fang while he shrugged his brows. His silver hair, held back in a high ponytail, swayed to the side as the hanyou cocked his head slightly, his sword braced over his shoulder.

“Why’d you run?” Inuyasha asked.

| previous chapter | <- -> | next chapter |

[emu-lumberjack]

A Quick Meeting Pt. 1

Damian is in Paris as an exchange student when an Akuma strikes he runs in to help as a civilian. that is until something catches his eye.

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

ok here's my literal first time writing a oneshot or any sort of fic so I did my best, the grammar probably isn’t great but I think its pretty good. Anyway this idea just came to me so enjoy! Also thanks @ozmav for the inspiration from you Maribat au!

Read part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Edit: Read both parts on Ao3,

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but I actually miss Drake.” Damian Wayne's tired voice moaned in the phone, “it’s so boring here, no one to bicker with and no crime to fight.” The youngest Wayne had been in Paris for two days for his exchange program, Bruce thought it was a good idea for the boy to actually go and experience a normal teenage life.

There was a loud snicker on the other end of the line, “Oh I’m sure it couldn’t be that bad Damian, I mean they have some of the best pastries ever.” Damian could practically hear the boys stomach growl, “speaking of which while you’re there you have to check out the Dupain-Cheng bakery, it’s not the biggest one in town but dad brought back some of their macaroons one time and they were the best I’d ever had.”

“I’ll take the suggestion Jon, might as well do something while I’m here.” Damian was just about to make another quip about how it was too sunny when panicked screams filled the air, “I’ve gotta go talk later.” He hung up the phone to the protests of Jon and started running towards the center of chaos.

He got to the Eiffel Tower cursing Bruce for not letting him bring the robin suit, nevertheless he started helping people get out of the way. Something this big could not be good for civilians. As he was helping one young woman up he noticed a girl in red and black spandex running on the rooftops coming his way. He was taken aback. Paris doesn’t have heroes he thought with a start. She mesmerized him, with her flips and twirls is she a Grayson? Now that was a terrifying thought. He was so captivated by her he didn’t even notice the huge chunk of concrete that was flying his way until it was falling right above him, he braced for impact until someone tackled him out of the way. The roll on the ground made small rips in his clothing but overall he wasn’t harmed, they came to a stop with Damian laying below someone with his hands pinned above his head. He looked up to see the girl in red. Her bluebell eyes were shining from behind the mask she wore, her blue-black hair was in pigtails with ribbon coming from them, Damian blushed.

“I was handling it, I didn’t need your help.” He said cooly, he may not have been in costume but he didn’t need her help.

“Yeah because a giant concrete slab almost crushing you is, how did you put it, having things under control.” Her voice was laced with sarcasm, it was enough to make Damian laugh.

“Ok, ok you’ve got me there, but I can handle myself. There are other civilians who need your help more than I do.” He looked back at her and holy shit she’s beautiful. He had noticed her beauty before but on a second pass he saw how her eyes were dancing with amusement while still holding concern over his well being.

“Civilians? Interesting choice of words.”

Damian cursed himself, civilians was a vigilante word, not one most normal people would’ve used in this situation.

The girl was about to ask him another question when the round thing at her waist gave off a ring. The male voice came through saying “Ladybug where are you, this isn’t really the purrfect time to ditch me.” Both she and Damian let out a sigh at the bad pun, she grabbed the device and said “I’m on my way Chat, got sidetracked by a civilian in danger, but apparently he can handle himself.” Her partner might not have picked up on the mockery but Damian did. Normally he’d be offended but something about her made him know she meant it all in jest.

“Ok I’ve gotta get going and so should you. There’s an akuma shelter two blocks that way,” she pointed “I’d suggest getting there as fast as you can. Bugout!” With that she was gone, and Damian was looking at empty space with  starstruck eyes.

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

  Marinette sat at the back of the room pointedly ignoring the crowd below. Lila was telling some tale or another about how she “knew the Waynes personally after all she gets invited to the gala every year.” Alya the ever faithful servant looked up at Marinette and said “see how good Lila is! She even gets invited to the Wayne gala, why do you insist on bullying her.” Marinette just ignored her continuing to sketch in her book. Well sketch and think.

The boy with dark hair was still on her mind, and Marinette was really wishing she had gotten his name. Not that Marinette Dupain-Cheng could just start talking to him out of the blue, that’d give away her identity as Ladybug. Maybe though Marinette could’ve just bumped into him “accidently” of course. She really hoped he had found that akuma shelter even though he said he could handle himself, the fact he had been standing there still as a statue as a cement slab came flying towards him wasn’t really a vote of confidence. She kept seeing his piercing green eyes when they looked into hers, first with shock then with something else. She blushed a little bit at that particular thought.

She was so engrossed in her thoughts she didn’t notice her former friend was next to her until she put her hand down on the sketchbook, right above the silhouette Marinette had been drawing of the black haired boy.   “Have you even been listening to a word I’ve said Marinette? Seriously how could you be so rude?” Alya said sharply.

       “In fact Alya I was not, if it was important you should know to tap me while I’m sketching otherwise I won't hear you, since I get so into it.” Marinette responded calmly, turning to look at her former friend.

         “Well if that’s the case then your sketchbook is just gonna have to go until you  learn some manners Meanette.” Alya grabbed her note book and started moving back towards Lila.

“Hey give it back.” Marinette said, leaping up from her seat. She was a pacifist but drew the line at having her stuff stolen. She went down to where Alya was to try and get back her sketchbook when Alya just held it higher. Marinette jumped to try and get it and Alya just moved her hand, eventually throwing it to Kim, then Rose, until the entire class was in on the giant game of keep away. Each student would tear a page a little bit every time they got the book until the pages were barely even stuck to the binding anymore. Marinette bounced between them trying to grab her book back but each student kept it clearly out of her reach, Chloe and Adrien were both out sick so there was no one else to help Marinette get her book back. The game ended when Lila threw the book at the door. Hard. so when it made contact with the opening door. All the pages flew out and scattered around the door frame.

Marinette was holding back tears as she went near the door to start gathering up the papers mentally planning to call her mom in order to go home early. She reached out blindly to pages closer to a door when a calloused hand met her own.

“Here. Let me help.” He said, his voice kind and warm.

“Thank…. Thank you.” she sniffled out, the tears were becoming harder and harder to hide.

Soon they had picked up all the papers, the class long forgotten. Marinette and the boy stood up, she was about to thank him again when familiar green eyes looked into hers and all the words she was about to say got stuck in her throat. She tried stuttering out a few sentences, her face turning red. Thankfully he looked as stunned as she was. Does he know I’m her? Marinette thought.

“I’m Damian.” He finally said although his voice was a little less confident than it was a few minutes ago.

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She responded.

[jae-daddy]

magic (3)

Draco Malfoy Fanfic 

one / two / four / five / six

pairing: draco malfoy x reader  genre: shifting realities, romance, clown shit plot: you have accidently shifted realities too well and are now stuck in harry potter universe with draco malfoy as your companion  a/n: to the two people who read this, boy, its getting lit from next chapter <3 hope y’all enjoy this. not edited also, promise the next chapters would be shorter lol

The whole room was quiet, and you dared not to move from where you were hidden.

The closet was more of your home than the entire room. You would stay there the whole day, when Draco would be out, waiting for him to come back. You were sure you were an inch away from losing your sanity.

But it was too much of a risk to stay outside in the room. You didn’t know when someone could enter.

You didn’t know who would enter, and you didn’t want to take that chance.

But now whoever had walked in was making their way into the closet, their footsteps getting closer to you. You felt them less than two steps away from you, and you pressed yourself into the wall wanting to disappear.

“Y/n,” his voice echoed through the room. You were instantly out of the corner and flung yourself onto him.

“Oh my god,” you muttered as you closed your eyes and threw your arms around his waist. “Oh my god, it’s just you. I thought I was going to die.”

Draco was frozen underneath you for a second, before flinging your limbs off him.

“Get off me, you ugly oaf.” He snapped as he moved away from, dusting off the imaginary dust that clung onto him from you.

You gaped at him, before shoving his shoulder and walking out of the closet.

You welcomed the fresh air, and the smell of firewood filling the place. You stretched your arms above you, as you cracked your back. It wasn’t like Draco’s closet was anything short of a room itself, but staying in that place for hours on end made its initial overwhelming size suffocating and scanty.

Draco walked past you and headed into the shower.

You took in his retreating frame and frowned. The least he could do was talk to you.

You walked over to the fireplace and sat down. You watched the glowing hues and sighed letting its heat fall over you.

You welcomed the feeling, it was the only thing you could feel in this room, aside from the walls or Draco’s scent.

“Are planning on jumping in?” Draco snickered from behind you.

You snapped your eyes open to find him standing there in a white shirt, drying his blonde hair with a towel.

God, he was unbelievably stunning. From the way his silver eyes glistened with mocking humour, to the two open buttons of his shirt, he was gorgeous.

You looked away as your tiny pixies danced in your tummy.

“Malfoy,” you shot, instead. He rose his eyebrows, as he settled into the armchair picking up his discarded book. “Thank you for that very inappropriate gift you left me this morning.”

You remembered your surprise as you found a little chest in the closet with muggle written on it. You were so nervous to open it, and then once you did you were mortified.

“Why did it not suit your taste, princess?” Draco smirked holding back a chuckle as he looked up at you from the book in his hand. His piercing eyes shone with humour and playfulness, making your tummy flip.

“You’re a pervert, Draco Malfoy,” you sassed back, as you settled on the armchair in front of him. “I thought muggles didn’t entice you, but with the collection of lingerie that you have benevolently bestowed upon me instead of proper undergarments really does make me question your attraction to us filthy muggles.”

The chest was filled with lace of every colour and shape in the name of the garments you had requested.

“Well, as long as you know that you are a very unenticing odious muggle, what you wear makes no difference,” he quirked an eyebrow with a smug smile, making you almost hiss at him.

“I can’t believe you used your magic on that,” you shook your head, slumping back into your chair.

Draco just rolled his eyes not looking up and continued reading the book he hadn’t put down since you had arrived.

You sat there and watched him as he read. You were so tired of seeing the same things for endless days that looking at Draco Malfoy was a refreshing change.

“Why are you staring at me, muggle?” Draco sighed, his striking eyes glancing up from his book to you.

You stared at him for a second more, taking in the frown on his face that always seemed to be plastered there.

“No reason.”

“Okay then, stop.” He ordered, looking between you and his book sceptically before concentrating on the book.

You sat there for another long minute before sighing, “So, is your Pansy your girlfriend?”

If Draco had been eating he would have choked. He gawked at you as if you had said the most ridiculous thing in the whole entire universe.

“Pansy Parkinson?” He snorted his voice light with humour. “Do you mean my best friend? The girl one who loathes boys, and is in love with her girlfriend?”

“No,” You gasped, as you stared at him wide-eyed.

“Why don’t you muggles have lesbians? Or is reproducing like rats all you know?” He scoffed.

“It’s something that we’re fighting to overcome,” you agreed a bit ashamed that your world wasn’t as accepting of something so natural. “We never knew that about her, though. Everyone thought that she was in love with you, and chased you.”

Draco laughed at that. His winter hair shining in the firelight.

“Bloody hell,” he laughed, as he held his stomach. “Pansy would’ve transformed you into a slug if she ever heard you say that.”

You giggled along with him, feeling your heart swell as you saw him look so carefree and happy.

“What about Goyle and Crabbe?” You asked as he calmed down. “Are you guys really close too?”

The smile on Draco’s face fell as soon as you said the words. His shoulders slumped as he let out a deep breathe.

“We used to be,” he said, his fingers playing with the ancient ring on his finger. “We grew up together, had the same hobbies and beliefs, but lately, that's not the case.”

You wanted to ask him what had happened. You wanted to pry so badly, but you bit your tongue and let silence fall over you.

He will tell you if he had wanted to.

After a moment, Draco got up. You watched as he began buttoning up his shirt, and walked towards the bed where his jacket lay.

“Are you going out again?” You asked, your voice whispered and rushed. You didn’t want him to leave, you wanted him to stay. You wanted to talk, you didn’t want to go back into that closet again. “Can’t you stay?”

Draco halted, his shoulders stiff as looked over his shoulders.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you whispered, looking away from his frosted gaze as soon as your eyes met.

It was true, you didn’t want to be alone. You were terrified every moment you were alone. Your mind would race with thoughts of being trapped here, of what would happen if you were discovered. When you were alone there was no escaping it; it was just staring at the four walls, or reading one of those ridiculously difficult magic books and waiting for Draco to come back.

You didn’t want to be alone. You didn’t want him to leave.

“I don't want to go back in there,” you looked to the doors of the closet, and you felt Draco follow your gaze. “It gets suffocating staying in there, not knowing when you will return.”

You could feel your voice breaking as your eyes burned with threatening tears. You didn’t look at Draco, despite his gaze haunting you, instead, you studied your shivering palms in your lap.

“I’m so tired of staying in there terrified and thinking. But that’s all I can do, if not then,” you sighed dramatically, trying to shift away from the tense energy you had created. You peered over to Draco who stared at you with locked jaws. “If I don’t hide then your father will avara-kadavra me.”

“Do you mean the killing curse?” Draco chocked as he touched his mouth, his lips raising up with amusement. “You just completely butchered that.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, folding your arms as sunk into the armchair.

“And you’re being ridiculous, though. My father would not kill you,” he quirked an eyebrow, his lips tight, but still holding up the banter.

“Yes, no, he wouldn’t,” you replied, your voice thick with sarcasm, before turning soft as a horrifying fear gripped your heart. “He might hand me over to Voldy-”

“VOLDY?!” Draco gasped his eyes wide in shock. A little chortle slipped out of him, taken aback. “I’m sorry but did you just call the Dark Lord, Voldy?”

But you didn’t hear him, your mind already running through all the other ends you would suffer if you got caught; each one worse than before.

“Or he might torture me into insanity like Neville's parents,” you gasped, the air around you thinning as panic rose up in your chest.

“Longbottom’s parents?” Draco spat, lost. "What?"

You were shaking now. You were terrified.

“Oh god, I am so screwed,” you whispered, as you clasped your shaking hands together.

“Hey,” Draco spoke coming close to you. He bent down in front of you. He read your frantic eyes and watched as a tear fell from them. He felt misplaced. He had no idea what to do. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re not going to die any time soon.”

The oncoming panic stopped as you watched at him. He stared back, his brows slightly furrowed together making him look adorable. You snorted a little laugh as tears fell from your eyes.

“That’s some bloody good consoling, Malfoy,” you rolled your eyes as you wiped that tears that managed to escape. “Very comforting.”

Draco didn’t reply. He moved away once you stopped trembling.

He lifted the jacket from the bed. Instead of putting it on, he threw it on to the floor, and instantly, it vanished.

Draco didn’t say anything as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt and sat in front of you.

“Can’t risk you being alone,” the ice prince said as he picked up his book. “Who knows when you’ll go all lunatic again.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but couldn’t help the small smile that climbed onto your lips. And then by magic, a little blanket appeared on the table in front of you.

You picked it up, wrapping it around you, as you gave Draco a sweet smile.

Draco’s eyes scrutinised before cutting off any emotions you felt, “the mansion can sense what you need.”

And then two cups of hot chocolate appeared.

Your eyes glistened with warmth as they met Draco’s.

“Thank you,” you whispered. Draco turned back to his book, the corner of his lips lifting in distaste. You ignored it.

You picked up the mug and sat back, taking in Draco once again.

You both were sitting there, in a blanket of comfortable silence, when suddenly there was noise.

It was too sudden. None of you heard it coming.

One second the door was closed, the next it sprung open as Lucius Malfoy walked in.

Winter fell over the room as he stood by the armchair you were settled upon. The fireplace dulled to in his presence, as a shadow fell over the room, making the darkness thicken around you.

You couldn’t move. Your breath caught in your throat, as your heart stopped beating.

Your eyes didn’t look away from the older male. You felt Draco’s eyes tremble between his father and you; the fear evident in them.

“Why aren’t you ready boy?” Lucius spoke, his voice cold and authoritative.

Draco opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes skipped between the two of you. His fist clenched by his side, as his lips curled in dread.

You were sure Lucius could hear your heart as it rattled against your ribcage from violently quivering.

This was pure fear, this was pure terror.

These were the last few moments before you died.

“What are you looking at?” Lucius spat, angrily, as he turned towards you. His eyes reached yours, so cold that it stung you. He stared towards you, his lips tightening with distaste before he lifted his shaft.

He shoved the metal tip into Draco’s stomach making him fall back. Draco groaned, but stood up instantly, the terror now displayed on his face.

“Pay attention when I talk to you, boy,” Lucius spoke quietly, his voice dripping with the promise of pain. “Now, tell me why are you not dressed?”

Draco gulped, his eyes wild.

“I'm afraid I feel unwell,” he said, his voice and eyes low. “I doubt my company would be as enjoyable as much as it would be a burden.”

Lucius stared at his son for a long moment, before taking a step back.

“You do look like you have seen a spirit,” his voice retreating now. “Rest.”

You didn’t move.

Draco shifted his eyes to you as his father turned to leave.

Lucius paused in front of you, his brows furrowing.

“We have been invited to the Minister’s box for the game this season,” he told the younger Malfoy. “Make sure you do not feel under the weather then.”

“Of course,” Draco stammered, making his father sigh.

Finally, he walked out.

You didn’t move.

Draco didn’t move, his eyes focused on you.

“He saw me.” You whispered, looking at Draco with fearful eyes. “He saw me. He looked into my eyes. He saw me.”

Draco stumbled into his chair as he ran a hand through his hair. His soft white hair falling in all directions.

“Do you think,” you gulped, making Draco turn to you. “Do you think he went to get reinforcement?”

“For a muggle?” He spat back.

“He doesn’t know that.” You replied, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes.

“No, no.” Draco shook his head. “There’s only one way to check.”

He got up and made his way towards the door.

“Hide until I come back.” He ordered and then disappeared behind the door.

________

You sat on the soft armchair with your knees to your chest. The fireplace crackled eating away at the wood, and you watched as the fire reflected orange and haunting shadows upon your skin.

This is real you reminded yourself once again.

You lifted your gaze to a stressed-out Draco pacing across his room.

“Draco, sit down, you’re making me anxious,” you spoke after watching him for five minutes.

Draco snapped his head towards you, the flames danced on his porcelain skin making him look more vicious. He sneered at you, his eye twitching slightly.

“Are telling me what to do, you muggle?” He sneered at you. You rolled your eyes at him, making Draco smirk astonishment. “You did not just roll your eyes at me.”

“Draco-”

“Do not say my name from your muggle mouth,” he spat, his face curling in distaste.

“What am I supposed to call you then?” You gave him a blank stare. “What have I been calling you since I arrived, Draco?”

Draco stared at you for a few moments, before snorting, his face relaxing slightly.

He sat across from you, his gaze not moving away from you.

He put his hands together, his fingers playing with the ring ever so slightly.

“Why are you suddenly so spunky?” He studied you, raising an eyebrow challengingly. “You do realise your fate is still in my hands, don’t you?”

You nodded, not looking away from his piercing eyes. You stared into them and gave him a sweet smile.

“That is exactly why I am so untroubled, my life is in your hands,” his jaw locked, as his cold eyes hardened. “You will not let me die.”

You could see his ego, his upbringing, and the worst of his pride and world brew vile inside him. It was almost as if the whispers of the snakes in his mind spoke to you too. You saw his face twist, but before he could say anything you continued.

“I am of great value,” he easied somewhat, and you continued. “I am somehow able to disappear, I mean that is something right?”

You held his gaze, and he swallowed nervously.

“I don’t understand how,” he shook his head again. You could see him about to stand up and go for another few rounds around the room.

“Draco, no. Sit.”

“Don’t talk to me as if I am a dog,” Draco spat at you annoyed.

“Stop overthinking it,” you sighed ignoring him. “Let’s just celebrate and move on. Your father could not see me. That is a good thing, why are you stressing?”

“Because it makes no sense!” His jaw locked as he glared at you and your coolness. “It makes no sense, you are a muggle with no magic. But you have managed to get into this house and now disappear on command-”

“I wouldn’t say on command,” you commented, but Draco ignored you and continued.

“It just does not make sense. You make no sense. How could you do that?”

“I’d say, love,” you spoke, and Draco stared at you, his eyes shooting laser beams at you. “I told you love is the greatest magic. I just love my life enough to hide so your father would not kill me.”

Draco just sighed in irritation as he ran his hands over his face.

“Anyways,” you started, your voice careful. “Now that we know I am only visible to you, I can go outside with you.”

“Merlin’s grave, you are,” Draco replied sourly, dampening the joy blooming your heart.

“Why not?!”

“Because,” Draco’s icy eyes met yours fuming with an intensity you couldn’t understand. “You are a muggle.”

“Fuck off.” You replied, making him smile.

“Are you mental? Or do you have a death wish?” He smirked at you, the fight raging inside him.

“I’m neither, Draco,” you replied, anger biting your tone. “I am just tired of spending forever in your room.”

“And you’d rather put yourself in danger?” He rose an eyebrow, his jaws tight.

“What’s it you?”

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes as he got up and moved away from you.

“What happens when you go to the game? How long will you be away then?” You asked him, making him stop. “What about when you go back to Hogwarts? What would I do then?

“I can’t stay here forever, Draco.”

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Fine, but you will always be enchanted and drink an invisibility potion.”

That sounded good to you.

You got up from your seat and jumped on him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you chanted as you hugged.

“Get off me, you filthy muggle!” Draco spat shoving you off him.

You frowned, but couldn’t keep it for long.

You jumped around him in celebration. Draco shook his head, his eyes rolling back, but a small smile challenged his permanent sneer.

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ bakugou katsuki x reader → crush

summary: you’re super popular at UA with all the boys but no one knows who you like, that is until the 1A girls have a sleepover and start talking about crushes. wouldn’t it be a shame if said crush was listening in? (requested by @fantasynalu tysm!! <3) tags/warnings: fluff, confessions word count: a/n: this was really fun to write! 

It was a pretty common occurrence for the girls of 1A to get together for a sleepover from time to time. There would be movies and snacks, board games, and lots of girl talk. This night brought something quite unexpected.

You were sitting in the blanket fort that you had all accomplished making with teamwork. It was quite the sight, blankets spread over various furniture that had been pulled from every corner of the common room. The nicest touch was the string lights hanging from the ceiling of the fort giving the space a nice glow.

All the 1A girls were very close so it wasn’t surprising to be talking about deeper subjects. What had been talking about your first crushes quickly turned into current crushes.

“What about you?” Mina asked looking directly at you. You had been thinking about how you could get out of this conversation. You did have a crush but you didn’t really want to admit it, you knew there was no way that he liked you back and it would just be embarrassing for everyone to know.

“Yeah, it seems like every boy at UA is after you sometimes.” Uraraka chimed in.  “I think one day I saw at least three different guys ask you out and you turned down every one of them.”

“There’s got to be someone you like!” Tsu added.

You were nervous talking about it but everyone else had been honest, you didn’t want to be the only person who wasn’t truthful.

» Bakugou

Bakugou was not happy. He had been getting ready to go to bed when Kaminari and Kirishima dragged him out of his room. They wanted to play a prank on the girls that were currently in the common room having a sleepover and they wanted him to tag along in case they got caught. They didn’t want to face the girl's fury alone.

He was tired and wanted no part of it yet he tagged along, was it because he hoped he might catch a glimpse of you? If it was he wouldn’t admit it even to himself.

Their plans didn’t get far once Kaminari heard them talking about their crushes. Instead of going for the harmless prank, they were crouched on the outside of the blanket fort hoping to listen in. 

Kirishima was currently blushing redder than his hair after hearing his name mentioned. Bakugou was over it, he wanted to leave, especially before you admitted your crush. He knew that every guy was after you so it wasn’t like it’d be hard for you to get a date with whoever you liked. 

“I mean I really don’t think every guy likes me.” He heard your bashful tone. Bakugou stood up, walking towards the exit of the room. He didn’t want to hear this. “I do have a crush but honestly, I don’t think he’d ever like me back.

He stopped at that turning back for a moment, who in the world wouldn’t like you? You were funny and charming and you worked so hard in your training and studies. Not to mention how beautiful you were.

“I doubt that, c’mon tell us who it is.” Mina urged.

“It’s B-Bakugou.”

It felt like everything stopped, Bakugou’s mind was frozen. Had he heard wrong?

He was pulled from his stunned state by Kaminari turning to look at Bakugou with a shocked expression. Except this didn’t go as smoothly as he intended considering he managed to knock down the whole blanket fort.

Screams erupted from inside before a few heads poked through the collapsed pile of blankets. Angry glares directed at Kaminari and Kirishima.

Bakugou fled the scene trying to get out before he could be seen by anyone. 

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋ The girls had managed to rebuild the fort after the incident but only after they had chased off Kirishima and Kaminari. For a moment you had been terrified that Bakugou had been there too but you didn’t see him. It made sense, no doubt he was already tucked away into bed and fast asleep.

Everyone was asleep but you couldn’t fall asleep. Finally, you decided to get up and make a cup of tea hoping that would help you calm down. It was all too easy to get caught up in your thoughts. You really did like Bakugou, it wasn’t a small crush. You cared about him a lot, you admired all of his qualities even the ones that others didn’t.

What you weren’t expecting was to find Bakugou in the kitchen heating up water. You stopped at the doorway standing silently. Maybe you should just turn around?

“What are you doing up?” He asked. Guess you couldn’t run away now.

“Oh, I couldn’t sleep.” You answered, your heartbeat picked up in your chest.

“Want some tea?” The soft offer surprised you. Bakugou wasn’t always angry but he was usually bristly at best. He seemed different at the moment. There was a soft quality you hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah, I actually came here to make some. You beat me to it.” You said in a slightly teasing tone. Bakugou nodded and you sat down on a stool waiting for him to finish.

Eventually, he handed you a warm mug, the smell of chamomile wafting up.

“Follow me.” He said. That took you off guard. Where did he want to take you?

He led you to the balcony, before sitting down on the bench there. It was a pretty sight, the plants that accented the space there, the sky full of stars.

You sat down together, keeping your hands on the mug of tea for warmth. You had on sweat pants and a shirt but it was pretty chilly. Not that you cared at the moment, you were much more concerned about what Bakugou wanted.

The moment of silence felt like forever.

“I heard you tonight.” He said. His timing was bad, you had been taking a sip of tea when he said that. You choked on said tea, coughing to get the liquid out of your lungs.

Bakugou stared at you with a concerned expression, he hesitantly reached out patting your back. You waved your hand trying to signal you were fine. As you recovered you wondered what you could possibly say.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to hear it.” You started. “I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable. I know that you don’t feel the same way.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same way?” He asked. You were glad you didn’t have another sip of tea to choke on.

“I-I-” You stuttered out. “I just don’t know what you would see in me. You’re so amazing, you’re pretty much the best student in UA.”

Maybe if there was more light out you could see the light blush on Bakugou’s cheeks.

“I do feel the same way.” He said you could tell he was pushing a confident tone but was still nervous. “I’ve liked you for a while now. Don’t sell yourself short, you’re pretty amazing too.” The compliment came out muttered but it still sent you heart soaring.

“Wow, I never thought you could like me.” You said quietly. You paused a moment taking it all in.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Bakugou broke the silence.

“Of course!” You said a little too excited. A smirk met his lips.

You smiled up at him, amazed at the night's events. This was the last thing you had expected when agreeing to a sleepover. A cold wind blew past and you couldn’t stop yourself from shivering.

Before you knew it Bakugou was pulling his hoodie off before handing it to you bashfully. You were taken aback by the offer but certainly weren’t going to say no.

Pulling the hoodie over you appreciated how it smelled like him, you resisted taking a noticeable breath.

You spent a while talking to Bakugou, asking each other questions, and laughing about dumb stuff. Including how Kaminari had knocked the blanket fort down. It was so peaceful. Sitting beside Bakugou, chatting, and enjoying each other’s presence. You saw a side of him you knew few if any ever saw. You would cherish that privilege.

“You should get some sleep,” Bakugou said standing up. You followed him. Before he went back inside you caught him by the sleeve of his long sleeve shirt pulling him back towards you.

You leaned up pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m looking forward to our date.” You said with a soft smile. Bakugou just nodded flustered before walking inside with you.

Sleep found you quickly after you returned to your spot in the blanket fort. Your last conscious thought was trying to figure out how you would explain why you were wearing Bakugou’s hoodie to the girls.

[svtwritess]

Chapter 3

➫ word count: 5.5k

➫ pairings: wonwoo x female reader, mingyu x female reader

➫ genre: fluff, angst, smut

➫ college!au, vampire!au

➫ warnings: swearing, drunkenness, sexual content

Your hand let go of Mingyu and your jaw dropped, your eyes moving back and forth from the look in Mingyu’s eyes to the fangs in his mouth. Eventually, he turned away to face the darkness, hiding himself from you. 

“Mingyu…” you said quietly, slowly walking toward him. You didn’t know what to think. A vampire? A real vampire? As intrigued as you were by them, you never expected them to be anything more than mythical creatures. Was he messing with you? For some absurd reason? 

He turned back to you, his face and eyes having returned to normal. “I… I’m sorry.” he said breathlessly, running his hands through his hair as he looked up at the sky. He seemed very on edge, which was not like him at all. 

“So you’re a, uh… a vampire?” you asked calmly. As shocked as you were about the situation, you didn’t want him thinking you were scared of him because for some reason, you weren’t. Along with that, you were also surprised that you were even asking such a question in an even remotely serious manner. 

“Why don’t you sound more terrified?” he replied almost defensively, his voice slightly raised. 

“I- I don’t know… I trust you.” you stepped closer to him, looking into his eyes. “All vampires aren’t violent and murderous are they?” you teased, stepping toward him and wrapping your arms around his torso as you looked up at him, but he didn’t seem to find anything about the situation amusing by any means. 

“Y/N… this isn’t really something to joke about.” he said matter-of-factly, causing your expression to fall. “However I am glad you’re not running away from me screaming.” he smiled softly and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“I assume this needs to stay between us?” you inquired, getting lost in his eyes. He nodded.

“Yeah, or else I would have to kill you and whoever you told, and that would be no fun.” you chuckled at his words and expected him to do the same, but he just looked at you with a deadpan expression. You immediately stopped laughing and nodded in understanding. He wouldn’t actually kill you (you hoped), but luckily you weren’t planning on telling anyone anyway. 

“So which vampire stereotypes are true and which aren’t?” you removed your arms from his waist and reached down, taking his hands in yours.

“Telling you that would take way too long,” he laughed, “but I’ll let you know as we go along.” 

You swung you and Mingyu’s connected hands by your side and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Can we go now?”

���Didn’t we just get here?” 

“Yeees, but I just wanna be with you now, and not on a roof.” you told him and he simply chuckled at you, nodding as he walked down the stairs with you, hand in hand.

You made your way through the yard and into the house, though you stopped about halfway after spotting Wonwoo sitting on one of the couches… with coffee shop girl seated comfortably on his lap. She had an arm around his shoulder, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck as she whispered God knows what into his ear. His hand was resting on her upper thigh and her dress had ridden up so much that almost all of her lower body was on display. 

You felt a blinding rage surge through your body as you subconsciously sent them the most intense death glare known to man. His eyes were locked on her profile, seeming almost enchanted by her. It was enough for you and the alcohol in your bloodstream to act far too irrationally. 

Without a second thought, you turned toward Mingyu and grabbed both sides of his face, pulling him down until his lips met yours. You kissed him passionately, sloppily, not caring what anybody else in the room thought of your actions, Wonwoo being the only exception. 

Mingyu seemed very taken aback and a little bit hesitant, but you didn’t care. You pressed your body to his, running your hands through his hair and tugging on it as your tongues fought for dominance. You ran your hands over his shoulders, a high-pitched whimper leaving your lips as Mingyu got comfortable and ran his hands over your ass, giving it a light squeeze. Things felt like they were about to get heated beyond your control, so just before you got carried away, you let him go and removed your lips from his, completely missing the dumbfounded smirk that was plastered on his perfect face. You didn’t spare anyone in the room another look and grabbed Mingyu’s hand before heading straight for the door. You stormed out of the house and stumbled onto the front lawn.

“What was that?” Mingyu asked, not sounding angry like you thought he might. If anything, he sounded confused and very shocked. You let go of his hand and ran your fingers through your hair, slightly out of breath. 

What was that?, you thought. You yourself didn’t even know. Was it pent up jealousy finally surfacing? Was it just the alcohol that made you feel envious? There wasn’t any reason for you to be jealous, or at least not one that your conscious mind could come up with. 

“I… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” you said, stress laced in your voice. Mingyu could tell how frazzled you were, so he decided not to push it, at least not right now. However, he was admittedly very curious. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” he trailed, pulling you into a hug. Your arms were pinned to your side, but you snuggled into his chest. Everything about him was so comforting, which surprised you given the secret you’d just learned about him. He did not seem to have any stereotypical characteristics of a vampire.

“Take me home?” you asked sweetly as you looked up at him. He nodded and let you go, returning his hand to yours before beginning the journey back to your apartment. 

For most of the journey, you walked in silence. You clung onto his perfectly toned arm, partially because you wanted to be close to him, but also because you felt you might fall over if you didn’t have some kind of support. You thought the alcohol would’ve worn off by this point, but you were wrong, and your still intoxicated state led you to think of a question. 

“How old are you?” you looked up at him from your place on his arm and he looked down to meet your gaze. He wore a smug smile and raised his eyebrow.

“I think we should save that for later,” he replied.

“No!” you whined, “Look if you tell me now I might not even remember, so it’s the perfect time.” you reasoned, and he appeared to be convinced. He let out a long sigh before speaking. 

“187 years old.” you don’t know why, but you weren’t surprised. It seemed like a normal vampire age, if that’s even a thing.

“Really? I would’ve pegged you at around 200.” 

He laughed out loud at your words, the sound filling your ears with bliss as you approached your apartment complex. Your heart grew heavy when you realized you would soon have to say goodbye to Mingyu. Unless… 

You reached your front door and faced the man at your side, giving him the most enticing gaze you could.

“Stay,” you whispered, running your hands up his chest to rest on his shoulders. He smiled down on you and shook his head. 

“Y/N I don’t think we should do anything until-”

“No, not like that! Just stay for the company. Wonwoo’s not here to take care of me, so who else will?” you negotiated. He groaned and threw his head back playfully. 

“Ugh! I guess it’s me, isn’t it?” you giggled at his response and nodded. 

Remembering that Wonwoo had the key, you bent down and bent back the top right corner of the welcome mat at your doorstep. It had a little pocket on the underside of it and that’s where you kept the spare key. You took it out and stood up straight before unlocking the door with ease. 

You motioned for Mingyu to go inside then followed behind him, closing the door behind you and locking it. When you turned around Mingyu was right in front of you, leaning closer and closer until eventually, his lips were on yours again. 

His kiss was as gentle as his touch. He caressed your sides and stopped his hands at your hips, squeezing them lightly as you ran your hands through his hair. You moaned quietly into his mouth as his tongue explored your mouth, the taste of alcohol in his mouth only intoxicated you further. You moved one of your hands from the back of his neck down to your hip where his hand rested, grabbing his wrist and slowly moving it down your body until it rested firmly on your ass. 

He groaned into your mouth and moved his other hand to your ass as well, squeezing and pulling your body closer to his. You smiled into the kiss at his eagerness, until suddenly you felt something poking at your stomach. You pulled away immediately, breathing heavily against his chest. 

“If you still think it’s too soon for that then maybe we should stop,” you suggested, however by no means did you want to stop. 

Mingyu simply nodded and pulled away, his breathing just as labored as yours. You hated to leave him… hanging, but even though the moment felt so right, you could tell Mingyu was special, so you didn’t want to move too fast. 

“Do you want anything to eat?” you asked as you tried to recollect yourself, fixing your hair and adjusting your dress. 

“No, no I’m okay, but do you mind if I take a shower? Parties make me feel icky.” he told you. You smiled and nodded, walking him to your bathroom and handing him a towel from the closet. You thanked your lucky stars that you had chosen to clean your bathroom the day before. 

“I’ll be in my room when you’re done.” you said before closing the bathroom door, leaving Mingyu to his lonesome. 

As you rummaged through your drawers looking for pajamas, you tried not to think about what Mingyu could be doing in the shower. Did parties really make him feel icky or did he just need to take care of his… issue? Maybe it was both, but either way, it was dangerous to let your mind wander. 

You decided to sleep in a pair of black cloth shorts that hugged your body in a flattering manner and a white t-shirt that met the top of your hip bones. It was revealing enough, but in a subtle-ish way. 

You laid on your bed, scrolling through your phone while you waited for Mingyu to get out of the shower. A small part of you was hoping Wonwoo would have called or at least texted you about your stunt at the party, or anything for that matter, but he was totally MIA. You frowned for a moment, but then you heard your door open. 

You put your phone down and sat up, your jaw immediately dropping at the sight before you. Mingyu had walked in with wet hair and nothing on but his boxers. However he didn’t notice your awestruck expression as he was still rubbing the back of his head with his towel. 

“Do you maybe have a shirt I could borrow?” he asked before hanging the towel on the corner of your door and tossing his clothes on the floor by your closet.

“No. No I do not.” you told him as your mind ran through all of the t-shirts in your dresser that would undoubtedly fit him. You shamelessly checked him out from head to toe; you genuinely couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You knew he had a nice body, but seeing him in all his glory was so much better than you’d imagined, and oh, how you had imagined. 

“Sure you don’t.” he chuckled as he climbed into your bed next to you. You both climbed under the covers and soon you were snuggled up to his chest, his arm around you in a comforting manner. “So, you like what you see?” he asked, wearing a smirk that you could hear in his voice. 

“I think that’s an understatement,” you said, leaning up to place a kiss on his lips. “You’ve maintained this body for 187 years?” you asked, completely baffled by the possibility that he’s looked so good for so long. He simply shrugged with a smile on his face and moved further down on your bed, pulling you closer so you were almost fully on top of him with your arm wrapped around his waist. 

“Goodnight Y/N.” Mingyu said sweetly, kissing the top of your head. 

Normally you’d be uncomfortable cuddling the way you were while trying to sleep, and you didn’t know if it was the sudden strong urge to sleep or the fact that it was Mingyu underneath you, but you couldn’t recall a time when you felt more comfortable. 

“Goodnight.”

“YAH!”

You were awoken by the loud voice of your best friend booming throughout your apartment. You sat up with a groan and checked the time on your phone. It was almost 3 am. You looked over at Mingyu to see his reaction and he looked like he was about ready to fight someone. 

“It’s just Wonwoo,” you mumbled, climbing out of bed and stumbling toward your bedroom door. You opened it and walked into the living room to find Wonwoo sitting on the couch, his head resting on the back of it and staring at the ceiling. 

“Wonwoo what are you doing?” you asked in reference to his yelling. You could smell the alcohol on him from where you were standing. 

He slowly turned his head over to look at you. His eyelids were drooping slightly and his hair was a mess. 

“Is he here?” he asked, disgust laced in his voice, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Yes he is, now can you be quiet? We’re sleeping.” you said sternly. You weren’t usually rude to Wonwoo, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything, it was being awoken from your slumber.

“Is that all you’re doing?” he said defensively as he stood up, “Did you bring him back here so you could finish what you started at that stupid party, huh?” he began walking toward your door, pushing past you and almost knocking you over in the process. You tried to push him back into the living room, but he was far stronger than you.

“Wonwoo-”

“Mingyu!” Wonwoo yelled as he tried to get into your room, but luckily you were able to hold on to the wall that created the doorframe and block him from going in. 

“Just ignore him, I’m sorry.” you said as you finally pushed Wonwoo away from your room and shut the door. 

“Are you kidding me?!” you raised your voice. “You’re being ridiculous right now! Just take a shower and go to bed! You reek.” you quickly turned around and went right back into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, covering your face with your hands and letting out a frustrated groan. You hated raising your voice at your best friend, though you knew this time he deserved it.

“Are you okay?” Mingyu asked quietly. He was now sitting up, his feet dangling off the side of your bed. You could only make out his shape due to the darkness, but you could tell his hair looked cute and messy. The sight of him and his presence made you feel calm almost instantaneously. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” you replied in the same manner, padding over to him and crawling into bed once again. You curled up next to him and he stroked your hair lightly, only adding to the tranquility you so quickly found. As you drifted off, you wondered how someone with no beating heart could make you feel so warm. 

When you woke up, you felt your head slowly rising and falling in time with Mingyu’s breathing as his fingers ran through your hair. You were surprised that you hadn’t rolled off of him at some point during the night, but you were happy that you didn’t. You had woken up just as peacefully as you had fallen asleep. 

You looked up and rested your chin on Mingyu’s bare chest, gazing into his eyes. He gave you a small smile and rested his hand on the top of your back. 

“Goodmorning,” he said, his morning voice deep and somewhat raspy, “sleep okay?” 

You simply nodded and moved further up his body to place a kiss on his lips. 

“Woke up even better,” you looked at his face for a bit longer. He was a bit puffy since he had probably only woken up right before you, but you thought he looked adorable. “Do vampires even need to sleep?” you asked in a sudden moment of curiosity. 

“I mean we don’t need to, no, but most of us like to.” he smiled. Though you had a lot more questions, it was too early for your brain to form them properly, so you decided to save them for another time. “I, uh, promised my roommate that I’d come home when I woke up…” Mingyu said, your subtle smile immediately turning into a frown. 

“Oh, right.” you said as you sat up. You didn’t realize how caught up in Mingyu World you were until him having to leave brought you back to planet Earth. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he stood up, dressing himself in the clothes he was wearing the night before. 

“No! No it’s fine, I know you weren’t planning on spending the night so thank you.” you rushed. Though you felt you made it obvious, you were really appreciative of him staying the night with you. Admittedly you would’ve been fine on your own, but at this point you’d pick being with Mingyu over being alone anyday. 

When he was done putting his clothes on, you got out of your bed and followed Mingyu out of your room, heading for the front door. Wonwoo was nowhere to be seen, which was more than okay with you. You assumed he was still asleep considering how late he came home. 

When you reached the door, Mingyu turned around to face you. 

“Is everything gonna be okay with Wonwoo?” he asked and you were completely taken aback. Hearing Mingyu mention your best friend by name so casually, almost as if he knew him too, felt extremely strange. It was like the two worlds that you subconsciously didn’t ever want to collide, had collided. 

“Uh, yeah, he’ll be fine.” you replied after a slight hesitation. 

“Good,” Mingyu smiled, “I’ll call you later, okay?” 

You nodded as if to say “okay” in return. He leaned down to kiss you one last time before you opened the door and bid each other goodbye. 

You closed the door behind him and leaned against it. You could not believe how whipped you were. But who wouldn’t be? Besides being a fucking vampire, Mingyu didn’t seem to have a single flaw, and you weren’t even sure if you considered the whole blood and fangs thing to be an imperfection. It intrigued you more than anything else. 

Wonwoo rarely got as drunk as you knew he was last night and you also knew that he wouldn’t take care of his hangover properly, so before you returned to your room, you grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen, a glass of water, and a small granola bar from the kitchen and headed toward his room. You opened the door and walked over to his bedside, placing the items on his nightstand gently so as to not make any noise. 

You looked at his sleeping face for a moment; he looked nothing like the man who was angry and drunkenly yelling at 3 o’clock in the morning. He looked like the Wonwoo you knew, and truthfully the Wonwoo you preferred. You were hoping he’d bring up his outburst and maybe even apologize for it, since you didn’t know how he’d react if you were the one to talk about it first. 

You left his room as quietly as you entered it and went back into yours, your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy again the second your bed came into view. Considering you had no school work to do and the Sunday morning you woke up to brought nothing but falling rain, you allowed yourself to drift back off to sleep, thoughts of Mingyu running through your mind.

When you woke up for the second time, you felt extremely hazy and you weren’t sure if it was from sleeping too much or if it was just a hangover. Either way, you knew you’d have to shake it off somehow, so you rolled out of bed and prepared to face Wonwoo.

Both because you felt icky and you were stalling, you ran a brush through your hair and did somewhat of a morning skincare routine before walking into your living room. Wonwoo was in the kitchen, his bare back facing you and a pair of black sweatpants hanging on his hips. He must have heard your footsteps because the second you entered the room, he turned to face you. 

“Y/N I…” he said softly before walking over to you and pulling you into a hug, “I’m really, really sorry.” 

At first you just kind of stood there. Hugging was not something that the two of you did very often and honestly it was very out of character for him. You figured he must feel way worse than you thought he would. 

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that and I hate that I got so out of hand, I hope I didn’t ruin your night or anything…” he trailed as you finally wrapped your arms around him as well. You were still in shock, but decided not to take his kindness for granted.

“It’s okay, really. I mean yeah you were loud and annoying, but I was mostly just upset that you woke me up.” you replied and you felt him chuckle before grabbing your shoulders and pulling away to look at you. 

“Well like I said, I’m really sorry.” he said as he gazed into your eyes. It seemed like there was something more that he wanted to do or say, but he merely let you go and waltzed back into the kitchen where you saw that he was making eggs. 

“On a scale from one to ten how drunk were you last night? And why on earth did you not come home until three in the morning?” you finally asked what you had been virtually dying to since his outburst.

He turned his head and raised an eyebrow at you. “And you think you’re entitled to the answers to those questions, why?” 

Your jaw almost hit the floor. “Um because you’re my best friend and going to a party and almost getting blackout drunk is not like you. At all. Now spill.” 

You saw him throw his head back in defeat and let out a small groan. He transferred his eggs from the pan to a plate before facing you and giving you the explanation that you felt you were very entitled to. 

“I just… I guess I just drank more than I thought I did on a basically empty stomach, but I ended up actually having fun so I didn’t notice. And then Jina, you know, the girl, she kind of, um, asked me to go home with her so…”

“So you did?!” you exclaimed. “Weren’t you just mad about Mingyu coming home with me not too long ago even though you went and did the exact same thing?!” you were standing up now, hands pressing against the counter and your eyes full of rage. 

“Well yeah,” Wonwoo remained calm, “but that’s different.”

“Oh yeah? How?” you crossed your arms, astounded with disbelief. 

“Cause you know I don’t trust him yet you still brought him back to our apartment? You could’ve at least just gone to his place. Jina and I didn’t even do anything and I don’t think the same can be said for the two of you.” he said as he ate, avoiding eye contact. He sounded as if his way of thinking was considered common knowledge. 

“You weren’t even here! I was drunk, excuse me for wanting to be comfortable in my own apartment. And why are you so quick to assume things?! Mingyu and I didn’t do anything either. And why do you hate Mingyu so much? You have no reason to, he didn’t do anything to you!” you were trying to keep your voice down, but your frustration seemed to be getting the better of you. 

Wonwoo was staring at you in disbelief, his mouth slightly agape. You getting angry like this wasn’t common, especially you getting angry like this at him. 

“I-... Well you don’t seem to like Jina much either and you don’t have a reason to,” was all that he had to say. 

“I don’t like her because-” you stopped yourself. Wonwoo was right, there was no reason for you to dislike her. Originally it was because you didn’t want anyone “stealing” your time with Wonwoo, but considering you were now and hoping to keep spending so much time with Mingyu, you didn’t want to admit the actual reason why you had an issue with… Jina. “Nevermind.” you dropped the issue and walked over to the couch. You expected Wonwoo to say something else or try and get more out of you, but he stayed quiet. 

You sat down and turned on the TV, mindlessly tuning in to the first Netflix show that popped up on the screen. Wonwoo sat down next to you and focused his attention on the TV as well.

“Thank you,” he said randomly, “for this morning.” You gave him a confused look, eyebrows furrowed as you turned your head toward him. “For the water and stuff?” 

You remembered the things you left on his nightstand earlier and nodded, “You’re welcome.” you gave him a small smile. 

Things with Wonwoo stayed tense for the rest of the day, but you didn’t expect anything else really, you knew it would be over by tomorrow. You had basically only watched TV that day, not feeling like being productive. You thought about texting Mingyu, but you weren’t particularly good at texting people you liked, nor did you enjoy it that much. You would much rather talk on the phone, or even better in person, but considering he had just left your apartment that morning, you figured that wasn’t an option. You wondered what vampires did in their spare time… 

Before you knew it, you were getting ready for bed. You figured you should get a job or something, as you had much more free time and much less money than you thought you would, however you concluded that that was a task for another day as you hopped in the shower. 

As you attempted to somehow wash the tired off of you, you heard the subtle buzzing of your phone on the bathroom counter. You didn’t know who it was, but you also knew it could pretty much only be one person, or at least you hoped so. 

You dried your hands off on your towel that was hanging on the wall, quickly took one leg out of the shower and grabbed your phone off of the counter, answering it before you were back under the water. 

“Hello?” 

“Y/n? What’s that noise?” Mingyu asked, seemingly raising his voice so you could hear him better.

“Oh, I’m in the shower,” you replied casually. 

“Why would you talk on the phone in the shower?” he chuckled as you began attempting to wash your body with one hand.

“I don’t know, I guess I just like you too much to pass up a phone call.” you said bravely, and little did you know that Mingyu took a little longer to respond than usual because he was blushing like a fool with the goofiest smile on his face. 

“Right back at you,” he said as he grinned, “did you have a good day?” 

You talked throughout the rest of your shower, telling him you basically did nothing all day. You wished you had been able to spend the day with him, but you understood that he (sadly) had a life outside of you. He asked about the whole Wonwoo situation and said that his roommate grilled him about where he was the previous night, then told you that he wanted to introduce the two of you. You agreed to the meeting as you stepped out of the shower, drying yourself off and wrapping your towel around you to the best of your ability before heading into your room.

You didn’t even bother brushing your hair or getting dressed, you simply plopped down on your bed and got lost in Mingyu’s voice. 

“Did your roommate appreciate you coming home when you said you would this morning?” you asked out of genuine curiosity. 

“Yeah, he did,” he chuckled, “he needed help with some school work.” 

“Oh wow, so you’re a tutor? You must be way smarter than you’re leading on.”

“Well I have gone to school more times than I can count, so some things just stuck with me.” he shrugged on his end with a smile on his face, a small one on yours as well. 

“So that’s why you don’t take notes,” you giggled, “I’ll have to remember that.” 

A loud crash came from Mingyu’s side of the call and you heard him let out a long sigh. 

“Y/N I, uh, I gotta go.” he sounded very unwilling to end your conversation, but it seemed pretty urgent. 

“I won’t ask, good luck.” you told him before he said his last goodbye and hung up the phone. 

You locked your phone and threw on a t-shirt and some pajama pants. As soon as you were dressed, Wonwoo knocked on your door. He opened it and merely stood in the door frame. He was wearing the same sweatpants from earlier, but now he had on a loose sweatshirt that had sleeves that were a bit too long for his arms. His hair was damp so you assumed he had taken a shower not long ago. It hurt quite a bit to admit it, but he looked so, so cute. 

“Are you still mad?” he asked softly as he looked at the ground, playing with the ends of his sleeves. You were unintentionally giving him the most sympathetic look you could, your softness for your best friend very obviously out in the open. Though since he was avoiding your gaze, he didn’t pick up on it.

“No,” you said genuinely, causing Wonwoo to look up at you with stars in his eyes, “now come here.” you opened your arms, inviting him to hug you for the 2nd time that day. With a cheeky smile and skin tinted red, he waddled toward you and embraced you, pushing you down so you both fell onto your bed. The two of you laughed as Wonwoo propped himself up on his hands and looked down at you. The smile fell from your face almost instantly and your heart rate increased when you realized the position you were in. You moved the hair out of your face before mustering up the courage to speak. 

“H-how about we just… don’t worry about each other’s love lives from now on?” you proposed, though you weren’t exactly sure why. You figured you’d rather just not know about anything that had to do with Wonwoo and other women than get beyond angry, seemingly without reason, anytime you saw him with someone, or even heard about him and someone else.

He looked away from your face for a moment, letting out a defeated laugh before returning his gaze to you. His stare was intense, almost as if he was trying to tell you that he knew your reasoning for wanting to keep those aspects of your lives a secret from each other, even if you didn’t. 

“Sure, it’s probably for the best.”

[ephemeralstark]

The Targets We Paint

Summary:  “Do you really think walking into Stark Industries with a handcuffed kid is a good idea?” Peter asked, “because the second you get in there, someone will alert the emergency services, you won’t get far.” 

 “You’re wrong,” and even though Peter knew he wasn’t, the complete lack of concern in the man’s voice was causing him mild anxiety. “

Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the man asked, not remaining silent for long, “we’ll see who’s worrying about calling the cops when I’m threatening to blow your brains all over their pristine white floors.”

 Peter swallowed, hard, “shows how prepared you are,” he said with false bravado, “the floors in the main atrium are black marble.” 

-

 Peter knew being Spider-Man put a target on him, but it was a risk he was willing to take for the safety of the citizens of Queens. He just never considered how dangerous it could be to be Peter Parker.

AN: whumptober day 4: prompt - collapsed building. TW for bombs, guns, violence, proceed with caution. Sorry the prompt only appears at the end whoops and this is going to be 3 parts not 2 bc i suck 

Part 2 of 3

To Peter’s horrified surprised the man who was holding him started to laugh, and not a fake sarcastic laugh, but a full-bellied, shoulder shaking guffaw that made the gun against Peter’s temple shake, he could hear the bullets inside tremble. There was no more innocent hope that the weapon hadn't been loaded. 

“Everyone says you’re smart, and you really are, aren’t you?” the man asked. 

“Is this all an elaborate plan to test my intelligence?” Mr. Stark asked and Peter’s eyes jumped to his feet as he watched him slide a foot forward on the marble, trying to inch his way closer without being detected, “because I have to admit there are easier ways to go about that than holding my intern hostage. I’m a show-off, you just had to challenge me to an IQ test or something.” 

“Is this the part where you ask me to let him go?” the man asked idly, his tone so conversational as he ignored Mr. Stark that it sent shivers down Peter’s spine as his Spidey-Sense warned him that he wouldn't be walking out of this situation unscathed.

But what could he do? The man was holding the gun so tightly to his head that if he tried anything, there was a good chance he would be dead before he could so much as turn around.

“Why would I ask that?” Mr. Stark asked him. 

“Don't you care for his life?” the man asked. 

“I mean I’d rather you didn't kill him in front of all of these people,” Mr. Stark said with a small shrug, “and I have to admit that I’ve grown rather fond of his inane rambling, but you don't seem to care about that.”

“Beg me to release him,” the man said. 

“Is that what this is about?” Mr. Stark asked, inching closer once more. “Is this all just a power trip for you?” 

Peter felt the man holding him tense, “a power trip?” he asked, and it was obvious that he was unhappy about the phrasing. 

“Well, you’re walking into my building with my intern at gunpoint as you demand to speak with me, and the moment I turn up you want to hear me beg?”  Mr. Stark said, “I have to admit, it seems a little power trippy.”

“This isn't a power trip,” oh, the man was speaking through gritted teeth now, Mr. Stark was definitely hitting a nerve somewhere. 

“Come on, wait, what’s your name? Is it Dave? You look like a Dave, we’re all going to call you Dave now, right kid?” Mr. Stark said. 

“Uh, he’s holding a gun to my head I don't think I want to do that,” Peter mumbled. 

“Come on, Kid, Dave knows there are at least five guns trained on him by now, if he does anything, he’ll be dead before he hits the ground,” Mr. Stark told him as though that was meant to be reassuring. 

“Maybe I don’t care about making it out alive,” Dave said, but Peter could feel his sudden tension that contradicted his words. 

“Oh, you do though,” Mr. Stark said, “otherwise that bomb would have been set off the moment I arrived in this atrium, you wouldn't be bothering to try and appear more powerful than me, you would have done it instantly and it would be attached to you rather than a device in your pocket.” 

“Stop… talking… about… power!” Dave said slowly through gritted teeth, the volume rising with each word that slipped out.

“You’re a little touchy on that aren’t you?” Mr. Stark asked.

“You keep trying to undermine me,” Dave snapped, “but who’s the one with a hostage right now?” 

“Oh, big deal, you kidnapped a fifteen-year-old, and a pretty lanky, dorky one,” Mr. Stark said, “pretty sure Peter has never done a sport in his life.” 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said with an offended sniff, “I’m being held as a hostage, are you really going to do me the dirty right now?” 

“Kid, come on, I had to pick you up last week because you tried to climb the rope and fell and somehow missed the mat?” Mr. Stark said, “like come on, that mat is huge, how did you miss? And how the hell did you fall?” 

“I was showing off,” Peter lied - he had actually intentionally fallen so that people wouldn't be suspicious that Peter Parker could suddenly climb the rope, it wasn't his fault that he was stupid and misjudged the fall.

“Why would you pick him up if he’s just your intern?” Dave asked suspiciously. 

“Come on, Dave, keep up,” Mr. Stark said, rolling his eyes, he was now close enough that Peter could smell his cologne, “I told you, the inane babbling grows on you, if you zone him out enough it's like there’s a toddler yapping away.” 

“A toddler?” Peter asked. 

“My name isn't Dave.”

“What is it then?” Peter asked, “because I’m kinda calling you Dave in my head now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” 

Dave was pissed.

Peter’s Spidey-Senses screamed at him a nano-second before he felt something hard crack against the back of his skull and a dizzy wave overtook him as he fell forward, Mr. Stark caught him just before he hit the ground, which Peter was grateful for as with his hands still cuffed behind his back he would have landed with his face hitting the marble and no way to try and prevent this.

“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered to Mr. Stark, “I didn't react quick enough, he had the cuffs on before I could think.” 

“Don’t blame yourself,” Mr. Stark replied quietly and he helped the cuffed boy back to his feet, and Peter didn't miss the look of horror as his mentor froze and stared at his own hands that were now tainted with the blood of the kid before him, “you're bleeding?” 

“The cuffs have spikes inside,” Peter said quietly. 

“They wh-”

“Enough waffling,” Dave said with a tone of impatience, “tell your men to put their weapons down otherwise I’ll release.” 

Peter’s gaze instantly fell on Dave’s hand that was holding the wired contraption that looked a lot like what he’d expect a bomb to look like, and then in the other hand was a button and judging from the way his thumb was tensed, he was pressing down which meant… oh. 

“Mr. Stark, if he releases that…” 

“I know, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, Peter saw a muscle in his jaw twitch, “alright, just be careful with that thing.”

“Tell them,” Dave said. 

“Right, guys, you heard him,” Mr. Stark announced, “fall back.”

By that point Peter could hear the law enforcement officers outside discussion tactics and planning to make contact, little did they know that it was pointless, Dave was heading towards his endgame and it was growing more and more clear that this wasn't about money. 

“If you ignite that bomb, you’re going to die,” Mr. Stark said, “is that really what you want?” 

“I don't care,” Dave said, “you destroyed me, Stark, you ruined everything, and now… I’m willing to put my life on the line to get my revenge.” 

“Look, this is getting old,” Mr. Stark said, trying to push Peter behind him, not that Peter would allow that, “we’ve already established that you don't want to die, so spill the truth, did you work here?” 

“No,” the man scoffed, “I would never have demeaned myself in that way.” 

“First: rude, and second, then why are you so pissed off?” 

“Do you remember the new theory that Oscorp Industries released?” Dave asked. 

Mr. Stark scoffed and let out a laugh, “of course this is related to Oscorp, and yes, I do. It was flawed and there was no way to prove it without inhumane human trials that would have risked lives and had a high rate of fatalities.” 

“That was my theory,” Dave shouted, “I was queued up for a promotion, I was going to get the funding to prove it true, and then you made a statement to the press about it and they were suddenly watching us.” 

“So you’re mad you were going to be held accountable?” Mr. Stark asked, “sounds like I did all the participants a favour, really.”

“You-” Dave broke off, visibly shaking with fury, “you don't get to say that, you don't get to-” 

“You need to calm down,” Mr. Stark told him. 

That was apparently the worst thing Mr. Stark, or anyone could have said because Dave was instantly furious. He threw everything he was holding against the ground and Peter was able to see the instantly look of terrified regret on his face that told him enough to act. 

Without the use of his hands, he was limited on what he was able to do, so he used his shoulder and rammed Mr. Stark to the ground with it, the older man was taken aback with the shock of the action and fell easily, just in time for Peter to cover his body with his own as a blast radiated from behind. 

It was hot, Peter thought before his attention turned to the trembling ground and he wondered whether they were unlucky enough to be having an earthquake at the same time. He would have considered it further, and perhaps he would have realised that the building was crumbling around him, but he was hit by something solid and the darkness dragged him under so that he was blissfully unaware of anything further. 

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