#but hes honestly in so much pain you can tell how his vie of himself has been warped all of that internalised homophobia i feel so bad

[petrichoraline]

clawing at sheets, beating the f out of the matress, yelling, i am not okay, i am not normal about this, i had the most inhumane reaction to part 4 and am i ashamed? yeah but can you blame me!!

[whispersbelongingbird]

 Hahhahhhaahhahah It’s done! I finished this earlier than expected, I usually take awhile.. But here it is!  Just a thank you to @clowncatss for the idea! I really enjoyed writing this so thank you again! And i hope you enjoy!

Falling Under

“Yes! Sure! I know he is very busy and being the prince of the spade is hard.. But two whole months, Noelle?!”

Leopold was in the middle of rambling to Noelle about his boyfriend. Yuno has not been Yuno recently.. He has been away in the spade for awhile now, he would come back to the clover every now and then, but a lot of that time would be him in the Golden Dawn drowned in paperwork.

Yuno used to send Leo letters on about how he is doing and when they will meet up next, but that only lasted for about three weeks.. He would come by to say hi and everything but it happened about once a 5 or 6 days.

“I’m sure he-”

“Stop, we all know he isn’t paying and mind to that” Leo interrupted watching Noelle as she took a deep breath.

“Listen, Leo I know how you feel but I think you should see it from his point of vie-”

“He has been so careless lately!” Leo interrupted again

He took a seat on Noelle’s bed, staring down; hands in lap. “I’m not mad at Yuno.. It’s just..” Leo stopped himself trying to find the right words.

He truly wasn’t mad at Yuno! That was pure honestly! He was just hurt and it only grew more as Yuno was away. As a royal he understood the amount of stress Yuno must be under, it’s not something easy to deal with, but it just seems like Yuno couldn’t care less anymore.

Noelle put a hand on Leo’s shoulder and smiled softly towards him. “Hey.. I’m sure he feels the same way as you..”

“He is the one being neglected is he..” Leo mumbled to himself  “What?” “Nothing”

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

Leo was walking through the crimson lion kings headquarters, head down thinking to himself.

‘Did I do something wrong?.. Of course being super busy is a thing but it doesn’t me avoid me for a whole two months along with that!.. I mean he came by a few times, but it is only a 30 minute maximum thing. Ugh! Why can-’

“Leo!”

Leo whipped his head to the voice from behind him. Thank god they stopped his thoughts, otherwise who knows what conclusion he would have ended up with. He was working on not to overthink things, failing horribly so far..

“Randall!” Leo smiled at the older man as he walked over to him. “Do you need anything?”

“Not me, but the captain wants to talk to you, I’m going on a mission” He smiled back.

“Okay then.. Thanks for telling me and good luck on your mission!” Leo respond waving at Randall walking away from him slowly. 

‘I wonder what he wants..’ Leo thought looking down away.

As he continued to walk he ended bumping his head into the door of his brothers office. He hissed in pain as he brought a hand up to his forehead. ‘Well that’s one way to knock’

“Come in!” His brother yelled from inside the room.Leo took a deep breath as he reached out to the door knob twisting it slowly and pushing it open. 

His brother greeted him with a small smile, Leo gave one back in return.He closed the door behind him and took a few more steps forward.

“Randall said you wanted to talk to me?” He tilted his head.“Oh! Yes, nothing serious I just wanted to let you know we will be having a family dinner today. Which means mum and dad will be there” Fuegoleon smiled.

Leo paused, the words ‘family dinner’ flooding his brain. It doesn’t sound too bad..

“Okay! Thanks for telling me, is there anything else?”

“Actually, I heard Yuno came back from the spade, I haven’t seen you two interact that much, maybe you could go and catch up with him” Fuegoleon turned to him, his expression soon turned into a confused one as he saw the look on his brothers face. 

Leo was looking down, you could see the sorrow expression he was displaying. His brother only looked at him confused and concern for the younger.

“Leo, are you okay? Did something happen between you and Yuno?” Fuegoleon questioned seeing how Leopold’s head shot up.

“Me and Yuno? No we are fine don’t worry! Speaking of Yuno I’m going to go to him! Bye!” Said Leo speed walking out of the room leaving his brother stunned.

Leo closed the door behind him and started to make his way out of the headquarters. 

‘Yuno’s back.. but he hasn’t reached out to me. Maybe I could confront him? No! He is just going to think I’m selfish, what if he doesn’t even want to see me? Argh! Screw it’ Leo stopped his thoughts as he ran out making his way to the Golden Dawn.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ Leo stood outside of Yuno’s room debating whether to go in or not. Mimosa had told him where he was but she had also told him he was very busy. Leo would knock but if he did Yuno would probably not respond since he is most likely absorbed into what he is doing. Leopold took a deep breath and slowly reached out to the door knob. ‘come on Leo! It’s not that hard.. Just open the door and go talk to him!’ Leo tried to reassure himself.  He turned the door knob slowly and gave the door a slight push. ‘Leo.. You have already opened the door, there is no backing out now..’ Leo told himself as he fully opened the door and closed it from behind him not daring to look at Yuno.  Slowly turning his head around he sees Yuno sitting down with a pile of papers next to him. Leo sighed and walks over to Yuno. ‘He hasn’t even notice I came in!’ Leo thought as he stood behind Yuno’s chair.  He put a hand on the back of his chair moving to his side to see what Yuno was writing. 

After a few seconds of standing there Yuno finally notices Leopold. “Oh! Leo?! Sorry, I didn’t see you..” Yuno mumbled glancing over at him. Leo just stared at him and smiled softly.  “Hm.. Hi!” He smiles as Yuno gave him a smile back.  Before Yuno was able to go back to what he was doing. Leo shot him a hug wrapping his arms around Yuno’s neck giving him a kiss on the cheek. Yuno was surprised but he hugged back and let out a chuckle.  Yuno was expecting Leo to Pull away but he didn’t so Yuno softly pushed his chest moving Leo away from him. “Sorry Leo..I’m a little busy right now.” Leo moved away from Yuno and crossed his arms turning his head away from him. “You know.. Would it hurt just to spend some time with me?” Leo said then covered his mouth as he didn’t mean to let it out. “Did you say something?” Yuno questioned turning to Leo who was avoiding eye contact. “Sorry I didn’t hear..” Yuno apologised seeing Leopold look down a clench his fist. Yuno put his hand on his and looked at him. “Leo..?” Leo snatched his hand away and took a few steps away from Yuno. Yuno stared at him in shock then back at his work. He didn’t have time to deal with Leo. Yuno sighed and turned in his chair to face Leo.

“what happened?”  “You happened” Leo Yelled putting both arms by his side and turning his head away from Yuno. Yuno stared at him in shock, he was confused. He thought Leo was upset because of something else, he didn’t think that he had done something..?

“Two months Yuno! Two months I have had to deal with you avoiding me! Yes you are in the spade and all but that doesn’t mean you come back and lock yourself in the Golden Dawn, Yuno what about us?! What about our relationship, yes being busy is a thing but how much more longer am I going to have to keep up with this?!” There it was. Leo let everything out and looked down while Yuno stared at him.

“You know, it’s not easy going back and forth between kingdoms? Yes I’m sorry I have haven’t been myself but you can’t be mad at me for that?” “Yuno! I’m not mad at you I’m upset! Yes I understand you don’t have things easy but you’re making things harder for yourself by doing it all at once, you are neglecting our relationship Yuno! Yes I know how you feel you are stressed, tired and you want to get this all over with! But you are letting your emotions effect on how you treat other people! Do you really think that’s fair?!” Yuno looked at Leo then stood up from his chair. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Mimosa put her ear onto the door listening to Yuno and Leo argue. She sighed as she pulled away turning to Klaus. “Neither of them are in the wrong.. They both have their reason, it’s just..” She stopped herself. Klaus lifted his glasses and put an arm on Mimosa shoulder. “ They will make it up soon, hopefully” He smiled at her, she smiled back as they walk away from outside of Yuno’s room.

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ A family dinner, right after an argument, great! There was Mereoleona, Fuegoleon and his mother and father present at the dinner. He really didn’t feel like eating anything right now..  Mereoleona eyed her brother as Leopold poked at his food head resting on his arm. She threw her fork at him making him shot up. “Mereoleona!” Her mother interrupted shooting her daughter an annoyed look then turning to Leopold. Leopold look down avoiding eye contact with his family. Mereoleona was good and seeing emotions, she is going to figure something out and make him spit it out, he has to be careful around her. "What?! He is obviously upset" She complained turning to her mother. "Can't we have one family dinner where everything is calm.." Their father mumbled looking down. Everyone got back to eating while their Father was explaining some story, Leo had no idea what she was talking about but his mother and Fuegoleon seemed invested. Mereoleona kept eyeing Leopold, she clearly knew something was wrong with him.. Leopold only turned away from her to look at his Father. He could see his brother staring at him from the corner of his eye. Hopefully this would end soon so he can lock himself up in his room. 

‘What did I do? Where did I mess up.. Why did I visit Yuno!? If only time travel was a thing.. But maybe Yuno will think about it and see it from my point of view. God, who am I kidding! It’s not like has enough time to be thinking about me..! Why can’t he just understand that he is messing up things for me and himself! Is it that hard to accept your own mistakes?! Sure yes he is busy and stuff bu-” Leo had to cut his thoughts as he realise he had bent the fork he was holding from clenching his fist. His whole family was now staring at him in confusion.  “Leo.. Are you alright?” Fuegoleon asked looking at his brother. Leo only gave a smile smile and looked away trying to avoid eye contact. “I’m fine! Just been thinking that’s al-!” Mereoleona interrupted Leopold by slamming her fist onto the table giving him a death stare, everyone flinched back staring at her. “It’s that stupid Golden boy isn’t it?! Fuegoleon told me you went to visit him and when u come back you act like this?! Where the hell is he!” She shouted getting up from her chair in an attempt to leave and find Yuno, Although, Fuegoleon stopped her. “Don’t assume things so fast and sit back down, what if Yuno didn’t really do anything?” Mereoleona took a deep breath then turned to Leo. If Fuegoleon wasn’t her brother, he wouldn’t have been alive right now. “Fine then, Leopold.. Was it Yuno who got you acting like this?!” She questioned in an aggressive tone.  “Calm down all of you!” Their father yelled gaining all the attention.

 “Mereoleona, Leopold will tell you whats bothering him whenever he feels like it, for now sit back down!” He shouted towards the end. “You think I’m just going to let that boy-” “JUST SHUT UP!, I’m tired of all this! I’m not five I can take care of myself, yes me and Yuno got into an argument but that’s between us and you have no right to interfere!” Leo snapped catching his breath, then he realised what he said and covered his mouth. He looked around and quickly lowered his head. “Sorry.. I think I need some air..” Said Leo speed walking out of the dinning room ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ Leopold has just exited the Vermillion estate. Everything was going way too fast. His thoughts couldn’t keep up with him and he couldn’t keep up with his thoughts..  He just kept on walking until he realised he hadn’t brought his grimoire.  It didn’t matter too much as the Vermillion estate was right there. Then again you never know what could happen. Leo took a few more steps until he took notice of a certain someone. “Asta!” Leo shouted trying to gain the attention of the boy. He saw Asta turn around and his eyes widen as he run up to him. “ LEO!” HE yelled throwing his hands onto Leopold’s shoulders. “Leo! Yuno has been looking for you! Where have you been!”  Yuno? Looking for him?! Weren’t they fighting 4 hours ago.. Leo would think Yuno wants nothing to do with him currently, but it seems not.  “He just left! Ill go get him you stay here!” Asta yelled as he ran off leaving Leopold stunned.  Everything was going fast, too fast! Nothing was making sense! Leo just wanted to do nothing but sleep his problems away. If only it was possible..  -- -- -- Asta had brought Yuno to Leo and currently the two were staring at eachother. The last time they met didn’t go so well. So hopefully they will make up! That is.. if one of them will talk first.. They stood there for sometime until. “Um.. Yun- Yuno.. I’m sor-” “No.” Yuno interrupted making Leopold’s eyes widen. “I’m sorry. It is true I have been a total jerk! I should have payed more attention to you and how you feel, it must have been hard for you to have to deal with.. I am sorry! I’m really not good with stuff like this but leopold I really a..m..” Yuno stopped himself, startled. Leopold had went in and gave Yuno a hug. He closed his eyes and laid his head on his chest. Yuno did nothing but hug him back. “I’m sorry.. You didn’t have it easy either.. Like you said, going back and forth... I must have sounded pretty selfish back then..” Leopold apologised moving back to look at Yuno, he gave a small, as did Yuno. “It’s fine, we were bound to get into an argument sometime..” Yuno chuckle. “So, we good?” Leo questioned hesitant. Yuno nodded his head making Leo jump into his arms  “Love you!”.

This went by fast.. Very fast but in the end it turned out alright. People get into arguments time to time, but that is just something normal most people go through! “Love you too..”

[set-phasers-to-whump]

that’s gonna leave a mark

prompt: “this is gonna suck”

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi! this fic is brought to you courtesy of this post. it’s set fairly soon after 2x15 and that’s about all there is to know about it...i hope you enjoy!!

They’re testing out Nick’s newfound Grimm super-senses. It’s his own idea, and Monroe is slightly reluctant, but he’s not the one who’s suddenly developed quasi-superpowers, so he’s following Nick’s lead, which is currently taking them up a tree.

Nick wants to know about distance in regards to the things he can hear, and has evidently decided that he hasn’t explored the upwards dimension enough yet. It’s a good enough idea, Monroe supposes, nearly losing his grip on a branch, but is all this climbing really worth it? Surely there’s a tall building somewhere that would suffice. 

He’s slightly below Nick, who is climbing like this is something he does every day. It’s impressive and a little bit weird and honestly pretty cool - and then his foot slips and he’s falling before Monroe even has a chance to react. All he can do is watch.

Nick hits what looks like every single possible branch on his way down, ending up in a crumpled heap on the ground. He’s moving, albeit slowly, which tells Monroe that he probably isn’t too seriously hurt.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” Monroe says to himself, as he quickly (but carefully) begins climbing down. He follows this up by calling out, “You okay, dude?” 

There’s a long pause, followed by a weak, “yeah.”

“So not okay, then,” Monroe mutters, carefully clambering down the last few branches and landing firmly on his feet beside Nick’s still-mostly-crumpled form. 

He touches a concerned hand to Nick’s left shoulder, and Nick pushes himself to his feet, wavering unsteadily but stepping away from Monroe, thereby refusing his help. Monroe shakes his head, sighs. 

“Nick, let me see -”

Nick starts quickly walking away, like he thinks he’s just going to be able to head back to the car and leave without saying a word. Monroe easily catches up to him, grabs him by both shoulders, and immediately drops his hands when Nick lets out a pained yelp. 

“What’s wrong?”

Nick turns around, and Monroe winces at the scrapes and scratches littering his face. There’s a bruise forming at his temple, too, and he’s covered in little bits of leaves, but -

“What happened?” Monroe asks, because he can’t see anything horribly wrong. Certainly nothing that would make Nick audibly acknowledge the pain.

Nick takes off his jacket, looking pained the whole time, and lets it drop to the forest floor. In his shirtsleeves, it is suddenly very easy for Monroe to identify the problem. 

“Your arm is…not supposed to look like that.”

“I know.”

Nick’s right shoulder looks wrong, like it’s been yanked out of place, and Monroe knows that it must be dislocated but he doesn’t really know what to do about it. He stands there and stares at Nick’s arm like the weight of his gaze alone can repair it. 

“Can you…” Nick pauses in the middle of his sentence, takes a deep breath. “Can you fix it?”

“You want me to…relocate your shoulder?” He knows how, in theory, courtesy of Rosalee, but he imagines it’s quite a different thing in practice. 

But Nick nods firmly, says, “please,” and there’s an edge of begging in his voice that lets on to how much pain he’s in, even if he’s not letting himself show it. 

And so Monroe finds himself saying, “yeah, sure, okay, let me just - wait, are you actually sure about this? Because if I end up making it worse -”

“You won’t,” Nick says, and Monroe can’t decide if it’s an endorsement of his skills or an evaluation of the pain. 

“If you’re sure,” he says, eventually, and Nick says, “I am,” so that’s that. Monroe is going to reset a shoulder, which is not at all how he thought his day would go. C’est la vie, he figures, and gets to work with the professionalism of one who has only a vague idea of what he’s supposed to be doing, but knows the importance of his task. 

First he completes the setup, taking Nick’s right arm and carefully adjusting it such that his arm is tucked against his side, his forearm parallel to the ground. The next steps should happen in fairly rapid, painful succession, with no room to stop or take a break. “This is gonna suck,” Monroe warns, and Nick nods shortly. 

“Do it.”

Monroe grabs Nick’s wrist, as carefully as he can, and moves it away from Nick’s body. Then he pulls the upper part of Nick’s arm forwards, and for the final piece pulls Nick’s wrist back across his body, towards his left side. 

There’s a sort of deep clunking noise and Monroe knows, sort of instinctively, that it’s done.  But Nick hasn’t made a single noise, which, while not unexpected for the Grimm, briefly makes Monroe wonder whether he has in fact relocated his shoulder successfully. He’d expected some kind of reaction, is all. 

“Nick?” 

Nick raises his eyes from where he’d been staring at the ground. They’re shiny with pain but there’s a look of relief, there, too, as he exhales shakily. If he were anyone else, Monroe figures the shininess in his eyes would be replaced with actual tears, and the exhale would perhaps have been a sob. This had hurt, quite a lot, Monroe knows, even if Nick is extremely determined not to show it. 

He’s about to say something like, I told you this was going to suck, or, I’m sorry for having to hurt you, but then Nick says, “let’s go,” and he tucks his hurt arm protectively close to his body, picking up his jacket with his other hand and just sort of holding it like he doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Monroe takes the jacket from him wordlessly, looks at it for a second and wonders whether Nick is going to get angry about this, then decides to just go ahead and do it. He’ll deal with the anger if it means he’s done something comforting against the pain he’s had to cause.

And so he drapes the jacket very carefully over Nick’s shoulders, barely touching the right side, as gentle as anything he’s ever done. He expects that anger, some sort of rebuke, but Nick is silent. His face is set and the scrapes and blood and dirt on his face and arms make him look sort of menacing, but beneath all of that there’s the barest hint of grateful acknowledgement, which makes Monroe smile to himself. Nick isn’t angry, then. Just hurting and in need of comfort that he’ll never actually ask for.

They walk in silence for a moment, leaves crunching under their feet, until Nick speaks up. “Was that the first time you’ve done that?” His voice is quiet and tired and a little bit scratchy and there’s a pained layer beneath all that, which Monroe can only detect because he knows Nick so well. 

“Yeah,” Monroe replies, like the answer should be obvious (which it should be, he thinks). “How was it?”

“Not too bad,” Nick says, in a way that means it hurts. “It worked, though,” he adds, in a way that means thank you.

“I better not have to do that again,” Monroe warns. Of course, you’re welcome, I care about you.

“I can’t make any promises.” I know.

thanks for reading this!!! i am about to go outside in the rainnn and the colddd wish me luck lmao...bye!

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader

Chapter 3- The Swedish Job

Summary: After learning of Diego’s wonderful ‘cough cough ‘terrible’ cough cough’ plan to stop the assassination of JFK. And figuring out Sir Reginald is in the recovered footage, you, Diego, and Five went out to find him. Ending the night with Diego getting shanked by his own father. Now here you are in the aftermath trying to convince Diego, he needs to rest.

Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 If you want tagged just hit me up.

This is like 55% smut ngl.⚔️

To make a long story short, you didn’t end up talking it out with Sir Reginald Hargreeves, or find anything worth dying for either. No hidden notes or files were to be found. And all that you took away from this fun little adventure. A bleeding Diego, and a cranky old man in a 13-year-olds body who also happened to get scratched by an aggressive monkey. Who turned out to be baby Pogo, things have been weirder. So you took it in stride, and hauled Diego’s ass to Elliot’s house, while Five drove, you keeping pressure on the wound the whole time.

——

Getting some medical supplies ready, you glance at an unconscious Diego, who’s sleeping soundly on the couch. Shirt off and looking as handsome as ever, contrary to the bloody bandaid covering his injury that you applied earlier. So far he was doing fine, and that’s all you needed to know. You cursed yourself for not stepping up in time to prevent this little mishap. But how could you have known Diego would get stabbed? All that mattered was that he’s alive and not dead. Ben wouldn’t want anyone else hanging around Klaus most likely anyways. He deals with enough nonsense already, you assume.

While holding the steel medical instruments, one in each hand, you carefully position yourself next to Diego. Slowly bringing the utensils closer to his damaged skin, preparing to cauterize the bloody cut. A second later you make contact, hearing a gross sizzling sound and smelling the burning of human flesh. Disgusting. Instantly Diego’s eyes shoot open, gasping at the hot pain your causing him. Being dramatic and starting to get louder, sounding like drums in your ears. Not helping whatsoever.

“Would you quite yelling I’ve never done this before” You tell him honestly while concentrating on the task at hand.

“What happened?” Diego asks you, confused as to how he got here.

“I saved you...again.” You reply bluntly, still working on his wound.

“Did you even listen to the plans?” He mumbles sassily.

“Your plans were stupid and it was entertaining watching you get your ass kicked by your own dad, if I might add.” You reply while finally looking up at him.

Suddenly he goes wide eyed again, lifting his head up to better access the situation. “Where are my clothes Y/N?! The hell happened to my clothes?” He says distressed, trying to get up.

Frustrated with his lack of listening skills you push the cauterizing tool closer into his skin, listening to the sizzle once again. Diego looks down at the damage as he yells out loudly in agony, then abruptly laying down with a groan in defeat. Falling unconscious from the large influx of pain, and conveniently not moving again either. Good.

Focusing back on the task of playing doctor, Five sighs, walking into the room. “Oh. He isn’t dead.”

“Disappointed.” Lila asks, trailing in after him from some hidden corner.

“Oh, to see you? Always.” He jabs back.

“So much hostility in such a tiny package. How are you two friends?” She asks, glancing at you unamused by Five’s rudeness.

“He’s an added bonus for dating Diego.” You vaguely explain, smiling to yourself as she nods and focuses her attention back to Five.

“Did you cut yourself shaving? I could tech you to shave like a big boy.” Quips Lila bluntly.

Snorting in amusement at her banter with Five, you look over to him. Who’s holding up a cotton pad over his scratch marks. “No, just ran into an old family friend.” He says tiredly with a sigh.

Looking briefly behind him, he points to Elliot who’s still tied to the dentist chair, unable to properly speak. “Neither of you untied him?” He asks.

“I was preoccupied.” You shrug.

“I wasn’t told otherwise.” Lila says, while sitting down and reclining in a chair.

——

While you’re throwing one of Diego’s knives into the nearby wall for some pastime target practice. An annoying alarm begins to sound throughout the room, “Hey, we got one. Hey, one of those machines you asked for his going crazy.” Announces Elliot from across the room in his swivel chair. Five speeding past you to see what the commotions about.

“Which one?” He asks quickly.

“It’s the, uh, atmosphere radar.”

“Good.” Five adds.

“I don’t get it. What are they tracking? A hurricane? A storm front?” Elliot wonders, confused as to what his radar system is showing them.

“Sound waves.” They say collectively in realization.

Five starts to back away, you knowing exactly what he’s about to do. A flash and he’s gone.

“Wow. What...Hey, where are you going?” Inquires Elliot, not used to Five’s way of handling things. Which is usually alone.

Giving him a shrug you turn back around to throw another knife, hitting the bullseye with a thud, and splintering the wood in the process. “I wonder if he’ll actually find Vanya?” You think, pondering the possible whereabouts of the rest of your friends.

——

Halting your arm from throwing another dart, your ears prick, abruptly catching the sound of Diego creaking the bed from the other room. Oh that man is not about to get up, you thought, turning to Lila. “I’m gonna have to forfeit, wolfman apparently thinks he’s okay enough to get up.” You tell her while rolling your eyes, setting your spare darts on the table and turning to find Diego.

Walking into his makeshift room you watch as he painfully stands up from the bed, grimacing and trying to breathe steadily, as not to cause anymore pain for himself.

“So what are your plans now tough guy, by the way Elliot’s made mushy tuna.” You tell him while leaning against the door frame.

“No. It’s a tuna mold.” Replies Elliot while walking away with his tuna mold, half offended.

“Y/N, where’s my shirt?”

“Last I checked you had a stab wound, so if you can all of a sudden miraculously harness my healing powers. Your ass is staying in bed.” You tell him sternly, knowing he’s not gonna listen.

“What, no I can’t, this is all connected to JFK, and my Dad’s right in the middle of it.” He explains while putting pants on. “That’s why he attacked me last night.” Looking to your right you pick up a mop-less wooden stick, and decide to have some fun getting him to shut up. “Cause he knows that I’m actually getting closer to..” he doesn’t have time to finish before you poke him directly into his bandaged bloody wound. Earning a gargled yell from him in the process, he then falls directly onto the bed grunting in pain from your cheap shot.

“Yeah you look like you’re ready to throw hands, why don’t you fight me right now. And if you win I’ll let you go.” You tell him with a shit eating grin plastered onto your smug face.

He looks up at you slightly offended and very much frustrated. “What is wrong with you?” He exclaims from the bed, still in pain.

Throwing your arms up in irritation, you try and reason with his stubbornness. “Just going out on a limb here, but if I remember correctly, you almost got killed last night. Take a day off, D.” You tell him, setting your temporary weapon off to the side. Swiveling back around on one foot, you gracefully jump onto the bed, positioning yourself right next to Diego’s discouraged and mostly naked form.

Propping your left arm up to look down at Diego, he tells you sadly, “I can’t believe I got shanked by my own father.”

“Wild right. What a prick.” You say trying to comfort him with a little humor. “Listen, if it helps any, he didn’t know you were his son when he shanked you.”

“Still, he cheap-shotted me.” He says still looking sadly off into nowhere. “Man to man, that son of a bitch wouldn’t stand a chance.” He tells you with hidden fight in his voice.

Not wanting to fully dampen his withering spirits to much but still wanting to tease him a little. You carelessly caress his skin, trailing up to push on his cut ever so lightly. Pulling forth a pained gasp from Diego, giving him a silent reminder that’s he’s in no shape to fight.

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?” He asks finally turning to face you. Taking his statement into consideration, you lay down next to him on your back. Staring up at the ceiling, you can feel his eyes on you. “I trust you Diego, just not what’s always going on up in there.” Pointing to your head, referring to Diego’s own problem making skills. Breathing heavily you start, “I know what it’s like to die, it’s lonely and dark. You feel cold and weak, you can’t move, see, hear, or feel anything.”

Sighing you continue, “I remember the first time I died. Have I ever told you about it?”

Looking at you more intensely now he replies in a whisper, “Never.”

You glance at him for a moment before diving right back into your story, trying to make a point as to why he shouldn't be actively putting himself in danger. “I was 5 at the time, my heightened senses and all that other shit came to be before I figured out I was immortal. It was hard not understanding why I could hear so well. Or run in the dark through my house without tripping, unlike my parents, who couldn’t see shit without a flashlight.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the ceiling with a troubled expression crossing your face, letting the memories flood back into your mind. “A fire started late one night, mum had left one of her scented candles burning on a wooden table downstairs. She didn’t mean to leave it there, but the dogs were getting rowdy again, so she had to put them away in their cages. And dad was already in bed snoozing away. I could smell the smoke before I new something was wrong, then I heard my mother screaming and my dad yelling for her to calm down.”

“Shit” Diego whispered.

“The fire had burned so fast through our house, it had gone up the stairs and reached our hallway. Fortunately for my parents, their room was at the end of the hall, so their escape to freedom was easy. But unfortunately for myself, I was trapped, I couldn’t open my windows and the door handle burned to much to touch. I huddled in the corner of my room terrified, and then just like that, my door was gone and the flames shot in.” You tell him with a shaky breath as a lone tear runs down the side of your face and into your hairline.

“What did it feel like?” He asks softly, nervous as to what you’re about to say. Letting you take your time.

“It was excruciating. I’d never felt pain like it before. Sure I’d scraped my knee or walked into the wall a couple times when I was smaller, it happens. But this pain, this was like having boiling water poured over you all while standing on hot coals.”

“Jesus.”

“When the firemen found me, they thought I was a charred corpse. They picked me up and set me down in the grass, and that’s when I woke up. The guy fainted and my mother rushed over to me in hysterics.” You yawned, tired from the emotional roller-coaster you were currently putting yourself through. “After that they realized something was definitely up with me, and 7 years later they decided I was to much to handle and then ‘poof’ I was an unwilling member of the Umbrella Academy. The end.” You finish, turning your head to look directly at Diego, as he sits up on his right elbow turning to fully face you.

“I had no idea. Why haven’t you ever told me before?” He wonders.

Bringing your jaded gaze back to Diego, you go to explain. “It’s not like it’s that fun of a memory. And anyways you never asked.” You mutter, taking in a deep breath, and relaxing again.

“I guess we could stay longer...for a bit. I guess that’s okay.” He murmurs in that gravely voice of his that you’ve missed so much.

Sitting up on your left elbow to meet his dark eyes, faces inches apart, you start to contemplate where this close proximity may lead you. Smoothly hinting at your excitement you tell him while smirking, “I’ve spent one year and 7 months trying to find you, if you don’t kiss me in the next...” you don’t have time to finish before his lips come crashing onto yours for a sweet and hungry embrace.

Pulling away instantly you lightly slap him across the face, making him groan loudly and throw his hands up to his stinging skin. “What the hell, Y/N?! What is wrong with you woman?!” He exclaims muffled by his hands, until he pulls them away to reveal an incredibly confused expression littering his features.

Laughing for a moment, you smile while climbing on top of him, pinning him to the bed between your unmoving legs, “You didn’t let me finish.” You say lovingly, hovering over Diego’s shirtless body.

“Ow. Oh, oh, ow, ow, ow.” Diego suddenly says while flinching in pain at the sudden new pressure of your body weight on his torso.

“Oh, shit. Sorry love.” You tell him smiling as you lean your body onto your legs more, so you’re not completely crushing him.

Mock glaring up at you, Diego breaks out into a huge smile. “Just. Be gentle.” He says kissing you again. “God, you’re the most weirdest and fantastic person I’ve ever met.” He says breathlessly, staring deep into your beaming eyes. Not being able to hold yourself back anymore you lean down attacking his lips in a heated embrace. His hands instantly go to your hips on instinct, like he’s done it a million times before. You both begin exploring each other’s bodies like it was the first time all over again, wanting nothing more then to feel every muscle and curve both of you have to offer.

Breaking his lips away from yours, he quickly goes to tell you something important, as a fake pout falls to your face, “These have to go.” He says, as he reaches for the bottom of your white tank top and begins to pull it up, you helping him speed up the process. Taking your shirt in one hand he throws it, not giving two fucks as to where it could have landed. You also not caring in the slightest, just eager to get things rolling. Next you skillfully unclasp your bra, taking it off and flinging it off to the side. Diego stares at you with a giant grin spread across his face. Reaching out to gently caress the sides of your breasts, his hands slowly trailing up your body to bring you down to kiss him again.

“I guess I won’t be needing these.” You mumble in between kisses. Referring to your pants and underwear, annoyingly concealing the prize jewels. On both of you in fact. Awkwardly struggling to rip your pants off, you lay next to Diego for a brief moment finally getting your jeans and chucking them across the small room. Jumping back into action, you straddle him, hands roaming all over each other once again. As your lips make contact, savoring every second with him for as long as you can.

Moaning in deep satisfaction you take a breath to tell Diego, “As much as I’m digging you in white, these things gotta go.” You explain while kissing his cheek, sneakily reaching down to tug at his tight white underwear that now are concealing a noticeable bulge. “You first mi amor.” He purrs seductively in your ear, you just about die. As gracefully as you can muster, you tear your undergarments off accidentally kneeing Diego in the gut, thankfully not near his stab wound. “Oh shit.” You laugh breathlessly, as Diego grunts in pain but only for a moment, before flipping you over, pinning you to the bed. “I’ll let that slid.” He says smiling at you, kissing you again real quick before he takes off his own underwear. Revealing the true king jewels, you’ve been absolutely dying for, no pun intended.

Diego looks deeply into your eyes, opening up your legs and kissing your inner thigh. Sending shock-waves of pleasure and pure joy throughout your whole being. God it’s been a long fucking time, you thought. As agonizingly slow as ever, Diego gently kisses your stomach. Inching his way up to your mouth with light butterfly kisses that make their way up in between your breasts, then to your collarbone, neck, cheeks, and eventually arriving at your wanting lips. All the while he continues to feverishly feel you up, you not shying away as you do the exact same. In true Diego style, without warning he thrusts into you, making you moan loudly in pleasant surprise. His thrusts are slow and full of passion at first, both of you savoring the moment for as long as you can take. Until it’s not enough for you anymore, you begin bucking your hips into his, trying to get more friction. Diego takes your not-so-subtle hint and obliges by picking up the pace., pounding into you harder, perfectly hitting your sweet spot every time.

 “Ah, fuck.” 

He grunts while pushing you further into the mattress with that muscular heavenly body of his. He sloppily kisses the side of your opened mouth that’s quietly releasing satisfied moans with each new thrust of his cock into your soaking walls. To say that you are on cloud nine would be a severe understatement. It’s been way to damn long since you’ve had a good fuck, and there was no way anyone from the 60′s was getting anything from you while you patiently waited for Diego. The bed shakes as his sweaty body rocks you back and forth into the soft blankets, your hands hold onto his back for support while he continues to fill you up to the max as he pulls in and out of you like a madman. You suddenly let out a shaky gasp when his hard cock hits your sweet spot in the most perfect of ways. He leans his elbows onto the bed as he looks down at your pleased face with a smile, satisfied with his fruitful work at making you get this way, so completely undone, and all because of Diego. You bite your lip as a knot begins to form into your dripping core, you open your eyes to watch as Diego appears to mirror you, he begins to moan loader as he starts pumping even harder into you, teetering on the edge of oblivion, you about to do the same. A couple more deep thrusts from Diego’s angelic body sends you fully over the edge, screaming in ecstasy as your orgasm explodes throughout your entire being. Practically sending sparks of electricity racing through you, your walls tighter around Diego’s cock as you ride out your high. With one more ragged thrust, Diego moans as his own orgasm hits, loudly spilling into you with everything he’s got left to give.

Kissing your sweaty cheek, Diego pulls out of you, flopping on the bed to your right while making it shake for a second. “God I love you, Y/N.” He says tiredly, not sure if it’s from the blood loss or your goddess-like body. Turning to face Diego, you scoot in closer, cuddling him as you rest your head on his shoulder. “I love you too, my hairy wolfman.” You tease him with a laugh. Closing your eyes you start to feel the weight of the past 24 hours hit you like a sack of bricks. Smiling in content and comfort, you reach down to pull the covers over your naked bodies, then throwing your left arm around Diego’s chest, hugging him gently before immediately dozing off. Diego lightly kissing your forehead, falling asleep shortly after.

——

Meanwhile.

“Hey, while those two love birds are busy I’m gonna head out, be back soon. Aight.” Lila tells Elliot, waving at him as she hastily slips out the backdoor, like a thief in the night.

Waving awkwardly back he watches as she leaves, hearing the sound of a projectile hitting the bedroom window. Causing him to jump, and grumpily walk downstairs with his tuna mold in hand.

[junquisite]

C’est La Vie 3

WORD COUNT : 1.6K

GENRE : Fluff. SIngle Parent! OC AU

WARNING : None. yearning if it’s considered one

PARTS : 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  F

NOTE : Please enjoy one of my favorite fic i have EVER written.

She got back home from her meeting and entered the PIN to her home. She got inside and shouted "I'm home!" And she heard Jiah's giggles before seeing her.

"What are you doing with uncle Seungyoun baby?" She asked and she heard more giggling and then she saw her coming out from her room on seungyoun's shoulders.

"Why are you bothering him like this?" She asked laughing and she picked her up from his shoulders.

"I don't mind. She's the cutest chick who Can sit on my shoulders anytime she wants!" Seungyoun said, going in to tickle her and Jiah laughed.

"She's also the only chick you can actually carry on your shoulders so." Jinae said and Jiah laughed.

"You hungry kiddo?" Jinae asked and when Jiah nodded, she went into the kitchen to cook.

When the food was ready, she called for then and Jiah came before Seungyoun.

"Mommy.." she trailed off and Jinae looked up from setting the table.

"Why don't you date someone?" 

Jinae sputtered and looked up at Seungyoun standing at the doorway who was avoiding her eyes.

"Who told you sweetie? Did uncle Seungyoun say something?" She asked and Jiah nodded.

"What did he say?" 

"That once I'll start school, you'll be alone at home and that you should date so you can be happy with someone." 

Jinae shot Seungyoun a glare and pulled Jiah close to her.

"I'm happy with you sweetie."

"I know. But you'll be lonely once I grow up and go to college." Jiah said, very seriously and Jinae wanted to curse at her best friend.

"Baby, I'll date if I'll ever be lonely okay? But I'm not right now. I'm very happy with you." Jinae said and Jiah nodded.

"But by that time you'll be old and no one will like you." Seungyoun chimed in and Jinae showed him a middle finger behind Jiah's back.

"Noo. My mom will always be pretty!" Jiah said and Jinae laughed, kissing her on her cheeks.

~ 

When Jinae put Jiah down for a nap after lunch and settled in front of the TV, Seungyoun joined her

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" She said and he shrugged.

"I've got all the time in the world for you." He said and she fake gagged.

"Why did you say that to Jiah?" She asked and he sighed.

"You need someone Jinae. What will you do after she grows up? She won't need you anymore and then how will you cope? I'm not telling you to date anyone right now but I don't want you to close your options too. Just don't deny an opportunity when it comes to you." Seungyoun said and Jinae nodded.

Somehow Sejun crept into her mind. She had convinced Jiah to not tell Seungyoun anything about him and promised she would tell him by the night because Seungyoun didn't really like Sejun for what he did. Although it was a long gone past now, she cried over him for far too long and he was there for her at every step. He was the only good thing that came out of losing Sejun.

" By the way, Seungwoo hyung and the boys are all going out for dinner for some friend who just came back from abroad. So come out with us." Seungyoun said and she looked at him.

"I can't. How will I find a babysitter at this short notice?"

"I already talked to Jimin. You gotta love her cause she agreed." Seungyoun said and damn him and his smart brain.

"For a few hours only?"

Seungyoun nodded and she agreed. 

She'll tell him on the way about Sejun.

~

"I'll be back soon sweetie. Call me if anything happens alright?" Jinae said and Jiah waved at her.

"Have fun mumma!" And honestly Jiah was more fine with her leaving then Jinae herself.

"Bye uncle Seungyoun. I'll see you tomorrow. You're picking me up right?" She asked and he nodded bending down to give her a kiss.

"Yes baby. Bye bye!" He said and they both got into his car.

For a while they talked about random stuff. Then Jinae decided it was time.

"I went to the new bakery today with Jiah." She started.

"Yeah I had those cupcakes. God they were so good!" Seungyoun said and she looked outside the window. He wasn't going to take this well, she just knew it.

"Sejun's back in town. He owns that bakery." 

The car swiveled and she tightened her grip on the seatbelt. 

"Your Sejun? The one who fucking left you? We're going to that bakery right this moment and I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind."

"YOU'RE NOT GONNA DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT! DRIVE TO THE RESTAURANT!" she shouted as Seungyoun swiveled the car quickly and he cursed under his breath but listened.

"Plus you're gonna see him tomorrow. Jiah wants you to take her to the bakery tomorrow remember?" She added and he exhaled sharply.

"Well it'll be fun." He said and she considered changing places with him for tomorrow. But then thought why not, Sejun should witness his wrath too.

 ~

They entered the restaurant and she recognised the loud group from afar. Before they reached them, Seungyoun pulled her back to whisper in her ear,"I don't understand why you're not interested in Seungsik. You guys get along so well and I'm pretty sure he's interested in you. Jiah loves him too." 

She rolled her eyes at him, mumbling a shut up and hitting him softly on his chest and went to them.

Seungwoo noticed them first and got up to hug her and then Seungyoun. Then they hugged all the others too because she hadn't seen them in a while. But she saw all the same faces she had been seeing for a few years now.

"Where's the new guy?" Seungyoun asked and she nodded.

"He's running a bit late. He must be here soon though." Seungwoo said and they nodded. Seungyoun sat beside Seungwoo and she settled between Seungsik and Subin, a seat in front of Seungyoun left for the mysterious new guy.

15 minutes in and a beer for everyone at the table, Seungwoo exclaimed that the guy was finally here.

She turned around to look at him and froze. She turned around swiftly to avoid him looking at her which didn't make sense since he was coming to join them only but whatever.

She looked at Seungyoun's neutral expression and wondered how long it'll stay.

Sejun came and smiled at everyone, still somehow hadn't noticed her and said hi to Seungyoun.

"Sejun, hi." He said and Seungyoun introduced himself. She felt like Calling him dumb for not figuring it out but was also happy for the peace that'll be disrupted as soon as he'll figure out who he is.

Sejun turned towards her and froze. She gave him a weak smile.

"Jinae?" He whispered and she gave him a small wave.

"Wait a minute." Seungyoun said, standing up and everyone looked at him.

"You're sejun. YOU'RE THAT SEJUN!" He said, grabbing a fistful of Sejun's shirt and Jinae got on her feet quickly while the others froze due to the sudden change of mood.

"Seungyoun NO! this is a public place!" She said pulling his hands away and pushing him down on his seat but he was still glaring at him.

"What is going on?" Seungwoo asked.

"He's the guy who left Jinae after highschool. Broke her heart." Seungyoun said begrudgingly and she kicked him beneath the table.

"Sit Sejun." she said softly and Sejun looked at the only empty chair in front of Seungyoun. Nodding and taking a deep breath, he sat.

"It was long ago. We are all mature adults here so maybe act like one Seungyoun? Sit down and let's talk. It's his friends throwing him dinner since he got back. Be a good sport!" She scolded Seungyoun who just turned his face around, pouting probably and Seungwoo chuckled, Patting his shoulder.

Sejun was sitting on the other side of Subin who was busy with Jinae and in front of a glaring Seungyoun. So basically it was a great evening, if you can sense the sarcasm.

The whole evening she was busy with the others, mostly Hanse and Seungsik and whenever he would try to spark a conversation, Seungyoun would intervene. The first few times she tried to stop him but eventually gave up throwing him an apologetic look which he was quick to wave off.

He might have made it look like he was okay but in reality he was dying to talk to her and that Seungyoun just.Won't.let.him!

So the night ended, with Sejun having too much to drink and leaning on Seungwoo when leaving. And she left with Seungyoun. God he wanted to hit that guy.

~

The next morning he walked in his bakery with a full hangover, haven't had the chance to pick up a hangover drink and just surviving on water and Pain killer. 

Around 9 am when he was in the back kitchen, baking since it was the rush hour, the only male worker of his, Taesong stepped in and placed a hangover drink beside His working station.

"Some lady dropped it for you and said she had to rush and left. Sorry I couldn't Catch her name." 

Sejun looked at the bottle which had a small sticky note on it saying, 'i'm sorry for Seungyoun yesterday.'

He smiled.

"I thought you came back here 10 years later. How did you already catch someone's attention in 4 days when you've been working your ass off here?" Taesong asked.

"It's an old connection." Sejun mumbled and shooed him away to the front.

And if he spent a few minutes staring at the bottle then drinking it, no one had to know.

[crinkliedfries]

no one asked for this yet i’m making it, it’s under the cut :) 

alrighty if you’re still here: this is basically the highlights of some of my wips with little explanation. 

*** 

“Alright, I'm going to be completely honest with you on this one: I don't really remember how I ended up here. I can barely remember the drive to this house, but evidently, it happened. And that’s really it. Do I remember researching this place? Well, yeah. It’s not, like, a completely unknown house.”

“One moment, I was alone on the porch, hungry and almost ready to pee myself, and the next I was one person in our group of six, sitting cross-legged on the floor.”

“Right. My stuff. As in, the bags I had brought full of alleged ghost hunting equipment.   That stuff. The stuff that may or may not actually be in my car (I’m not completely sure. I haven’t checked yet and honestly, at this point, I’m kind of afraid to).   I nod, a bit hesitant, and find myself going back to my car to hopefully get my equipment.”

“’The good news is that I found my equipment,’ I smile a little, holding up the bags.   ‘And the bad news?’ It’s Michael who asks this. Gotta appreciate a man’s willingness to hear what he doesn’t want to, right?   ‘I… don’t actually remember how to work half of it.’   ‘So it’s useless?’ Roxanne seems tired of me. Honestly, I don’t blame her. I am, too.   ‘Well, I mean… not…’”

*^* 

“I didn’t shoot up in bed, like in the movies. When I woke up, I laid in my bed and tried to process the dream, and tried to push it away. I never asked for this; I really don’t get paid enough for any of this. Then again, I don’t get paid at all, which really is a shame. But, you know. It’s fine.” 

“Alright, then. End of story. Everyone go home, there’s nothing more to see here--   You know, they say that when people are sleep deprived enough, they start hallucinating. Personally, I call bull on that, but… it’s better than alternative theories. Not that I particularly believe in the supernatural, either.  But, you know. A very specific “fuck you” to that guy over there, am I right?  I had gotten up to get water. I made sure I had my phone flashlight--I’m not ready to be that guy in the horror movie. Just because I don’t believe in it doesn’t mean I can’t be prepared.  Okay, the water thing was actually a lie. I had gotten up to get some soda.   When I had gotten to the living room, I saw… a figure lying on the couch. I thought maybe it was my mom, or maybe our dog. Neither would be too peculiar.  I smiled a little, but stopped when I felt eyes upon me again. The figure on the couch… it was so, so cold. Icy blue and a dull brown. Pale, sickly yellows and greens.   I was becoming nauseous; there was something about this figure that was unsettling.  It’s an almost orange-ish colour, a brownish orange but not exactly that. I don’t like it.  I forced myself to keep walking, trying to ignore the feeling in my spine and the voice now screaming in my head, the one that didn’t sound completely like my own and screamed for release in some way.  I’m pretty sure it’s sleep deprivation. This seems somewhat hallucination-esque, and with the lack of sleep I’ve gotten, I wouldn’t be surprised.  I make it to the fridge, forcing the thoughts down, and grab my soda. I can hear footsteps behind me, the feeling of eyes still there. It’s probably the cat, she likes to beg for food when she sees people are doing things at night.  “No, I can’t feed you yet,” I mutter into the darkness, turning around. There’s nothing there, but I can still sense the presence of another living creature. I shrug it off--sleep deprivation and cats are all logical explanations.  I walk to my room and lay back down, making a mental list of everything i’ll have to do when I wake up in five or so hours.  Three a.m. is a strange time, isn’t it?”  

*^* 

“As he ran, the only thought that went through his head was I didn’t think that this would be how I went out. C’est la vie, huh? His feet pounded against the dirt as he ran, his chest aching and legs burning. Stopping wasn’t an option. To pause was something he couldn’t afford to do in the fear that those in pursuit would catch up. Every beat of his heart matched the thud of his throbbing legs as they hit the ground. Looking around wildly, he started searching for options. He could keep running and risk falling, the pain becoming too much for him to continue, or he could pause and possibly end up getting held captive. Neither options were particularly favorable for him, but those were what he had to choose from. He struggled to take in another breath, his pace threatening to slow. Coming to a stop, he started to look around wildly for an alternative, for a place to hide while he caught his breath, checking behind himself often as he did so. He could hear the grating howls, raspy barks, and the thudding of his pursuers’ own feet, getting closer the longer he stood, trying to figure out what to do. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes tight for a moment as he felt the tell-tale sting of tears. In that moment, his brain was cotton, as useless to him as fogged up glasses. He struggled to get a clear thought, fear’s claws holding his brain and thoughts in a vice-like grip.” 

“’I’m not saying you’re wrong, really, I’m not,’ Farrokh was determined not to let his smile falter. ‘I’m just saying that sometimes you have to accept what you have. It’s good enough, and while it could have been better, it was the best you could do with the short notice and little planning that you had.’ they could hear the underlying bitterness in his voice as Roy laid down, his head in Farrokh’s lap, letting the representative’s calming energy wash over him as he started dozing.” 

“Remember these six facts. They will be of utmost importance later.  We return to our characters, now. In the time it has taken me to tell you these six facts, Chokmah has put his book in his chair and gone to the kitchen to make tea. Farrokh has gotten a blanket for Roy, putting it over the guardian to keep him warm as he dozes. Jack has returned his knife to its sheath, crossing his arms and starting a conversation with Farrokh. This is what we’ll go to, as Chokmah making tea isn’t the most amusing thing to be subjected to.” 

“’The news?’ was all he asked. He would’ve been practically vibrating in his chair if the situation was different. Or perhaps if he had been a different being. ‘Oh, yes. The news.’ Farrokh nodded, holding his cup in his hands, three fingers in the handle as he wrapped both hands around it. ‘I’ve heard rumour that the sins and virtues are back,’  ‘They were never gone,’ Jack set his own cup on the table, looking between Chokmah and Farrokh.  ‘Jack’s right, they’ve always been around. What happened?’ Roy was holding his with both hands as well, similar to Farrokh.” 

“Roy and Farrokh retired to their shared room, both exhausted from the excitement. Part of me almost feels bad for them all. Correction: Part of me does feel bad for all of them.”

“Nicholas Teague had been hardened by this world and everything in it, indifferent to those who needed him—indifferent to his family.  It has previously been stated that this is the story of a father that has to watch his children suffer, unable to help. I now ask this:  Do you really believe that?  Another way of looking at it, through unclouded eyes, is that it’s a tale of a father that didn’t care.  Nicholas Teague found himself staring at the last thing he wanted to.” 

“Now, let me set a couple more things up for you:   One: Sundays are always hard.   Two: Casper and Jasper have, at this point, returned to the Rift.   Three: The world is, indeed, in danger.   Four: Someone royally messed up.   Five: Not all of these points are, necessarily, related. They can all be abstract ideas that just so happen to tie to our group, but don’t impact each other.  Except that, in a way, they almost do.  Had it not been for a series of events that also caused the current impending doom, then we wouldn’t have to mention that someone royally messed up or that Cas and Jasper have made it back to their home safely.  And if it wasn’t for any of this, I wouldn’t have to mention the Sundays.” 

“’The stars. The stars were shining so brightly that night, the passengers in the lifeboats thought that they were the lights from ships coming to save them.’ Jack finally spoke, almost whispering the words. ‘I’m so sorry,’“ 

“I shook my head. They had already shattered my entire world, taking everything I thought I knew and turning it upside down. The next thing they’d be telling me is that bread was sold in sliced loaves in the stores and that women could vote. Not that I’d have much complaint about either. ‘We can find something to watch, then? They’ve made movies, in color, that you can watch in your home, on the television,’ Jack pointed at a… screen in front of us. I nodded.” 

*^* 

“Pluto turned to Dupin. ‘You’re a detective?’  Dupin nodded. ‘I am.’  ‘But?’ ‘Initially, I wanted to be an artist,’“

“‘I killed him!’ Montresor almost screams his admission in Pluto’s face. Pluto looks as if they’ve been struck, a realisation flashing through their eyes that they barely hid.  ‘Monty, I…’  ‘I killed them all!’ he grabbed their arms, eyes wild as he tried to make Pluto understand. ‘It’s my fault!’   Pluto sighed and reached a hand up to cup his face. ‘Oh, Dearheart, none of this was your fault, it… it can’t have been.’  Montresor stopped. ‘Wh… what?’  ‘You don’t know. You really don’t know, do you?’   Montresor’s eyes widened, the storm around them worsened. Rain plastered his clothes to his skin, his hair to his forehead, and in that instant he realised that Pluto--  Pluto was too well put together. Pluto, who’s hair and clothes were barely damp, who disappeared and reappeared without warning, who was… an enigma. ‘Monty… you didn’t kill them. Especially not him,’  ‘Any of them?’   ‘Well… no, you did kill Fortunato, but it was his time, and he kind of had that coming,’   Montresor’s pained face worsened and Pluto realised they weren’t helping the situation any.  ‘He was sick, Monty.’ Pluto said it gently, softly, as if it would cushion the harsh blow they had just dealt. Montresor’s grip slackened as he registered what they had said. ‘Most of them were. You… you couldn’t handle it,’   Montresor tried to contain himself, to bring himself back, and: ‘And what about you?’ he demanded. ‘What are you?’ Pluto hesitated before smiling, just faintly. ‘I think you’ve already worked that out for yourself, haven’t you?’“

“A Conversation: ‘I think you broke my heart a little, when you did that,’ Pluto’s laugh doesn’t reach their eyes.  Montresor nods in agreement. ‘Yeah. I think it did mine, too.’ ‘Think you almost broke hers. Not just mine. Hers too.’ they don’t look at him as they speak, face turned away to look in front of them. Montresor can make out their silhouette in the shadows that become their face, and considers the idea of tracing constellations into that darkness, to make them light up once more. ‘She still loves you, you know. Not… not like that, obviously. But she does still love you,’ ‘I think I love her too. Not like that, though. Obviously.’ Montresor agrees.  They sit together in the quiet. It’s a start.” 

“Then: ‘What did you mean when you said that Madeline and Roderick Usher reminded you of Dorian Grey?’ it’s Montresor who asks them, eyes full of questions as he holds their hand tight.  ‘Well… have you heard of a certain Basil Hallward?’“

[lustresky]

hochelaga [peter parker]

summary: Peter never really had a ton of positive male influences in his life, and at this point he had given up his hopes of ever having one— that is, until he meets Happy. 

wc: 4200ish.

themes: angst, peter’s a misunderstood and troubled teen, some happy stuff in the end (cuz i physically can’t write shit that doesn’t end in a happy ending ok), trust issues, happy cares about peter, some family fluff because i just want peter to be happy ok:’’(

warnings: cursing (da usual), underage smoking & mentions of nicotine addiction, me trying to be deep haha yikes!

a/n: title is a song by alexandre poulin. (it’s a really good song, i highly recommend listening to it in the background while reading/listening to it after! i translated the lyrics in english but it isn’t an exact translation, i changed a bit of the words to fit in more with the story!!) i recently listened to it again and it inspired me to write this. a lot of fics have tony as a parental figure in peter’s life, and he was my first choice for this fic too, but in the end happy just... made more sense. but honestly?? idek if this fic makes any sense. hopefully it does lmao

if you have any questions about this fic, feel free to send me an ask!

please note that the plots of CIVIL WAR, INFINITY WAR & ENDGAME are excused in this fic. 

available on ao3.

T’es pas mon père, tu t’prends pour qui? (You’re not my dad, who do you think you are?) Tu sais rien de moi pis de mes amis. (You know nothing about me or my friends.)

Peter scoffs to himself as he hears May laugh in the living room; he hisses at the contact of alcohol on his skin, groaning at the large gash on his forearm. He quickly bandages it up, making sure to wear a long sleeve shirt in order to hide the large white cotton wrapping around his injured limb. 

As soon as he hears footsteps, he swiftly hides the first-aid kit under his bed.

May opens his bedroom door, still wearing her work clothes and a huge smile on her face. “Peter!” She grins, walking towards him and grabbing his arm— the one that had been sliced open just an hour ago. He inwardly winces, but keeps on his indifferent face. 

He has a front to maintain. 

“Come on! I have someone for you to meet.”

Ma mère ’n’a ramené des ben plus tough, (My mom has brought home tougher guys,) Moi, les gars comme toi j’les mets dans ma poche. (Guys like you are nothing to me.)

 Peter trudges to the living room, mentally preparing himself to see another man that he knows he would hate in a few days’ time. 

To his surprise, however, he’s greeted by a man who’s the exact opposite of the image that he had been used to. Where the black leather jacket had been, there’s a formal black suit— complete with a tie and all. Where the gelled up hair and five o’clock shadow had been, there’s curly, salt and pepper hair with a white beard to match. 

Where a smirk that seemed to size him up had been, there’s a genuine smile.

“This is Harold,” May introduces the man in front of him with such a wide grin that her eyes crinkle. “Harold “Happy” Hogan.”

What kind of fucking name is Happy?

Harold clears his throat and offers his right hand to Peter; a first for all the men that May had brought back home.

“I’m Peter.” Peter says, taking his hand. The man gently grips it, hands warm yet firm at the same time as he shook it with one of them on top of Peter’s own. “Nice to meet you, Harold.” He adds, forcing out the manners May had ingrained in him even if he doesn’t like it.

“Nice to meet you too, Peter,” Harold smiles. “And Harold’s too formal—”

“Just call me Happy.”

Pis tu vas ben faire comme tous les autres, (You’d be just like the others,) Tu vas claquer la porte en mettant ton coat. (You’d slam the door closed whilst wearing your coat.)

Harold— no, Happy, stays over for dinner. Peter left the conversation to May and him as he focuses on the news being displayed on the TV while he chews on the food that she had prepared.

“Rising vigilante, Spider-Man, spotted!” The female TV reporter announces, hair swishing left and right as she animates her words with hand gestures. “Six thieves have been found, bound with the ever familiar web and with the oh-so-famous venom puncture holes in their necks!”

“As much as his work is appreciated by many,” The announcer continues. “Is his way of justice acceptable, when these men—” The TV flickers to show the mug-shots of the six men, now incapacitated due to the poison. Peter recognizes the one who had cut his arm immediately. “Have not yet faced trial? Tonight, we will be discussing this with J. Jonah Jameson, editor in chief of The Daily—”

The TV screen suddenly goes black. Peter groans at May as he looks over at her; her arm outstretched with the remote in her hand aimed at the now blank display.

“No watching TV while we’re eating dinner.”

 C’est moi du haut de mes 14 ans, (It’s my 14 year old self,) Qui veille sur le bonheur de ma maman.  (Who grows old because of my mom’s happiness.)

 Peter had quickly retreated in his bedroom after dinner, telling May that he still had homework to do.

The truth is that he just can’t stomach seeing Happy and his legal guardian sending love eyes to one another for another fucking hour.

Especially when he had already told himself numerous times in the past few years to never attach himself to any of the men that she brought home— no matter how happy they make her, because he knows better.

He tries to disregard their laughter outside of his bedroom. He tries to ignore the creaks of the floorboard as May sent Happy home. He tries to be oblivious to the peck that they both shared as a goodbye.

Tries; because his enhanced senses completely made sure that he notices every single one of them.

Much to his dismay.

 T’es pas mon père, m’as-tu compris? (You’re not my dad, don’t you understand?) J’les connais les grands secrets d’la vie. (I already know life’s greatest secrets.)

 Peter still remembers his first smoke.

He had been twelve.

It had been an experience— and when his senses got even more enhanced after he got bit, it didn’t take long for him to get addicted.

May doesn’t know about it. Just like she doesn’t know about him being a vigilante.

As soon as he hears a scream from an alley not too far from where he’s perched, Peter drops his smoke onto the cement— squishing and therefore extinguishing it with his foot.

He shoots a web onto the light pole to his right, hoping that whoever it is that he’ll save, that they’ll give him money for his services; just like what most people would do.

Peter lets out a breath, missing the nicotine in his lungs.

He’ll need it for another hit.

 Garde tes histoires pis tes conseils, (Keep your stories and advices to yourself,) Check, fais tes affaires, j’vas faire pareil. (Look, mind your business and I’ll do the same.)  

Happy comes over again for dinner.

As May cooks, they both sit on the sofa, watching the news.

“Spider-Man strikes again!” The same female reporter from a few days ago announces. “This time it seems that he has saved over a dozen people in a department store by binding the attacker in his webs and incapacitating him with his ‘venom’!”

Happy groans beside him and Peter looks up at him, annoyed. What’s his deal?

As if he can read minds, Happy looks back at him, a stern look on his face.

“Listen,” He starts, head downcast to stare at him in the eye. “If something like that ever happens to you, you go and run the other way— alright?”

Peter scoffs at his words and breaks eye contact. As if.

Happy doesn’t seem to be content with his answer. So stubbornly, he asks, “Peter? Do you understand?”

Peter subtly rolls his eyes. Who does he think he is? 

“Yeah,” He just replies back, not wanting to strike another conversation with another person who thinks that they have more power than him. 

He has had enough of those.

 Mais si jamais tu mets l’pied dans ma chambre, (If you even enter a foot in my room,) J’te jure que j’te paye des vacances. (I’ll make sure that you’ll regret it.)

 “Peter!” 

Peter quickly fumbles out of his suit, pulling the red and blue cloth off rapidly as he opens his closet door to stuff it in. At full speed, he grabs his venom and web shooters and locks them inside his desk drawer.

The footsteps don’t cease, and Peter only manages to get a shirt over his head and a pair of boxers over his legs before his door opens to reveal Happy; an eyebrow raised at him.

It doesn’t take long before the man’s eyes widen upon casting sight onto his bleeding legs.

“Jesus Christ, Peter, what happened to you?” He asks, opening the door even more to let himself in. “Are you okay?”

Peter doesn’t even try to keep the bubbling rage inside him as Happy carelessly welcomes himself into his bedroom; the only space that he has to himself. The only place that understands him.

“Yes!” Peter cries out, anger coursing through his veins. Fucking hell, he doesn’t have time for this. “Now please— get out!”

Happy, surprised at his outburst, moves backwards until his feet were a mere inches away from Peter’s bedroom door frame. “Okay, okay— I’m glad that you’re okay,” He raises his hands up in retaliation, sighing. “But still, what in the hell happened to you, kid?”

Peter doesn’t answer, instead he ignores the burning pain across his legs while walking towards the door with the goal of closing it. He grits his teeth in the process.

“That’s none of your business.”

 Ma mère pense ’t’es l’homme de sa vie, (My mom thinks that you’re the love of her life,) Moi, j’te donne pas trois semaines pis t’es parti. (Me? I’ll bet that you’ll leave after three weeks.)

 Peter had been genuinely surprised when he had come back home to find May and Happy in the kitchen, flour and eggs scattered everywhere.

Their smiles are bright.

Peter clears his throat, effectively gaining their attention as he crosses his arms across his chest. “What are you guys doing?” He asks, throwing a pointed look at May who just laughs at his question.

“What does it seem like we’re doing, Pete?” She replies, a huge smile still displayed on her face. “We’re trying to bake a cake!”

That still isn’t enough of an answer. “What for?” He adds; from what he remembers— which was almost everything, nobody has their birthdays today.

May just sticks her tongue out at Peter.

“It’s Happy and I’s first month anniversary, babe!”

 S’rais-tu mon père jusqu’à midi? (Will you be my dad till’ noon?) J’me suis mis dans l’trouble pis comme t’es ici. (I got myself in trouble, and now you’re here.)

 Peter curses at himself as he holds his head down in between his arms. 

The principal doesn’t say anything to him as the air remains tense.

“I’m sorry—” Peter’s head pops up at the unexpected voice. That isn’t May. “I had a meeting— I came here as fast as I can.”

Looking to his right, Peter sees Happy taking the chair beside him; his own face stoic.

“That’s alright, Mr. Hogan,” The principal gives him a tight lipped smile. “Now, shall we discuss why I called you here?”

Happy looks at Peter, an eyebrow raised. Peter doesn't— no, he can’t bring himself to say nor explain anything.

Everything is clear.

He had fucked up.

 Ç’a l’air qu’à l’école y auraient trouvé, (It seems that the school has found,) 10 grammes de shit dans mon casier. (The ten grams in my locker.)

 Peter had known that he should’ve been more cautious; he knew that his school had a strict rule against cigarettes. He had known.

However, did that knowledge still stop him from lighting one up?

No.

Is it a surprise that he was caught?

No.

Peter bites his tongue as he tries to even out his breathing.

The next thought passes by his mind and he can’t help but wholeheartedly agree.

I’m a disappointment.

 Faudrait pas l’dire à ma mère, (Please, don’t tell my mom,) Elle s’rait ben capable de trop s’en faire. (She wouldn’t be able to handle it.)

 Happy took him home.

The whole car ride had been silent; neither party focusing more on the road than one another.

Peter forces himself to speak up once Happy has parked his car in front of the brick building.

“Please..” He croaks out, feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. “Don’t tell May.”

God, he hated being like this.

A pause follows, and Peter worries for a second that Happy will spill everything.

However, the man beside him lets out a sigh as he places a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

He squeezes, and for the first time, Peter doesn’t flinch at the touch of a man.

“Don’t worry kid,” Happy says.

“I won’t.’

 Toi, tu sais comme moi qu’on passe par là,  (You know just as well as me that we all go through this,) Quand on devient un homme dans Hochelaga. (That this is how we grow up in Hochelaga.)

 May gives them both a bright smile as they enter the apartment.

“Dinner will be ready in a sec!” She tells them both; giving Peter a warm hug and Happy a peck on the cheek before sprinting back to the kitchen.

Peter just looks up at the man beside him who grew red at his guardian’s antic.

He doesn’t even try to stop the genuine laugh coming out of his throat as Happy looks back at him, trying his best to mask his fondness for May with annoyance. “What?” He scrunches his nose up at Peter, trying to act tough but failing as his flushed face goes against him.

Peter just continues snickering. “Nothing.”

The sudden happiness in his stomach’s overwhelming. 

 S’rais-tu mon père jusqu’à cette nuit? (Will you be my dad until tonight?) J’me souviens même plus quand l’mien est parti. (I don’t even remember when mine left.)

 After dinner, Peter had mustered up the courage to ask both May and Happy if they wanted to watch a movie. They both had said yes— but Peter knew that May never really had a thing for sci-fi movies, and so it isn’t a surprise for him when she had blacked out thirty minutes into ‘The Empire Strikes Back.’

Happy, however, still has his eye focused on the film. In fact, he seems to be enjoying it way more than Peter— which was a complete yet welcomed surprise.

He doesn’t ever remember having witnessed something so nice like this after his passing: May curling up against someone, a smile on her face as she slept; completely serene as the man who she loved cradles her back. It was a sight that pulled at Peter’s heartstrings, yet also tied them into pretty bows at the same time.

As the sounds of the movie fills the air, Peter realizes something which made him smile.

He can get used to this.

 Y avait pas grand temps pour dire « Je t’aime ». (There wasn’t really a lot of time to say “I love you.”) Entre la DPJ pis le HLM. (Between the CSS and the DSS.)  

After that night, May and Happy had started saying “I love you”‘s to one another more often.

He and Happy got closer— and slowly…

Peter let his walls down bit by bit.

 On pourrait p’t’être r’garder la T.V., (Maybe we can watch some TV,) Quand maman rentrera d’son shift au PFK. (When mom does her shift at KFC.)

 “What‘cha doing there, kid?” Happy asks him as he knocks on Peter’s door, slowly pulling it ajar.

Peter looks up from his papers, rubbing at his eyes as he lets out a yawn. He gives Happy a nod to let him know that it’s okay to come in.

The man then walks up beside him, a hand on his hip as he looks over at Peter’s calculations. He makes a face. “Yeah no, if you’re gonna ask help for this stuff, you better ask Tony and not me.”

Peter makes a face at him, not sure if he’s joking or being serious. What is it with him bringing up this Tony dude? He doesn’t even know who he is. 

 “Ask who?” He snorts, shaking his head. “Tony Stark?” He jokes.

“Uh, yeah? Who else?” Happy looks at him like he doesn’t know if Peter’s joking or not. “Tony Stark, billionaire, inventor, Iron-man? AKA the guy that I work for?”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Wait a minute—- this whole time you’ve been talking about Tony Stark and not your like— eccentric best friend?” He lets his jaw touch the floor in shock.

Happy just laughs at him. “Yeah?”

Peter blinks his eyes and shakes his head, and now it suddenly made so much more sense as to why Happy seems to always be in a full suit.

“Anyway,” Happy interrupts Peter’s thoughts, hands going in his pockets. “I was just thinking that you may want to take a break, kid— maybe watch a movie or something before you burn yourself out. Netflix just added Aliens, and May isn’t here.” He raises an eyebrow as his lip quirks up.

Peter’s ears perk up upon hearing the movie title. He’s been dying to watch the movie ever since Happy had suggested it, but most of the time he never got to as May had forbidden him to watch— as she so eloquently put it— “Those disgusting and disturbing movies.”

“Fine, fine—“ He waves off Happy, turning his front back to his desk, trying not to sound too giddy. “Lemme just clean this up.”

“It’s gonna be fun, kid, trust me.”

Peter just shakes his head, a hint of a smile on his face.

Happy turned out to be right.

 Ce serait drôle un jour d’aller jouer aux quilles, (It would be fun to go bowling, one day.) Ç’a l’air qui font ça dans les vraies familles. (It seems like real families do that.)

 May had suggested that they all go bowling one Sunday night.

Happy taught Peter and May how to strike.

Peter doesn’t know if, in the end, it had been a good idea as Happy ended up losing.

Still, Peter appreciates him going out of his way to teach him something that he doesn’t know. 

It had been such a long time since he hasn’t taught himself something.

It was a nice change.

 S’rais-tu mon père pour toute la vie? (Will you be my dad for the rest of time?) L’temps passe, pourtant t’es pas parti. (Time has passed, but you still haven’t left.)

 “Happy anniversary!” May laughs as she hands something to Happy.

It’s been two years since they’ve been together. Peter still can’t believe that time can fly by so fast.

Happy kisses her on the cheek as he pulls out something from his pocket; a small, velvet box.

Peter tries his best not to shake the camera in his hands. He already knew that this was going to happen— hell, he had planned it with Happy himself, but the happiness and excitement bubbles in his stomach and rushes through every limb in his body as Happy gets down on one knee.

If it isn’t for the fact that his eyes are getting teary, he would’ve laughed at May’s shriek.

“Will you, May—“

Happy didn’t even get to finish his sentence.

“Yes!”

 Moi, j’suis fatigué de jouer au tough. (I’m tired of acting tough.) J’ai dans l’ventre une carrière de roches. (My stomach is full of rocks.)

 Peter stumbles into his bedroom through his window, chest-heaving as he takes off his homemade mask. He grits his teeth as he continues applying pressure onto the wound, closing his window with one of his legs.

He hears a stack of papers drop.

Peter quickly whips his head around.

Happy’s face, morphing into shock— then disbelief, then concern, then rage, greets him back.

“Is this what you’ve been doing, sneaking out all these years?” He asks Peter, gaze hard and almost deadly. 

Happy rarely gets angry.

“Yes,” Peter wheezes as he stands upright; his lungs screaming for more oxygen. He winces as he continues putting pressure on the wound on his left shoulder. “I know, I know— I’m sorry but I’m—“

Happy quickly notices his discomfort. He drops his disapproving parental act for a moment and goes on full mother hen mode. “What— what is it, kid? What happened?” He moves towards Peter’s side in less than a second and Peter let’s his tired and aching body fall onto him.

“Bullet grazed me,” were the only words that he had managed to spew out through the pain.

Happy inhales a breath. “Do you have a first aid kit in here somewhere?”

“Under— under my bed.” Peter groans as Happy slowly let’s him sit on the ground; pain pulsating in his arm.

Within seconds, Happy has a needle in his hand and Peter’s trying his best not to wince nor flinch every time the sharp metal goes through his skin.

There was a pause— and then;

“I think it’s time for you to meet him.”

Peter looks up at Happy, making eye contact. 

The man’s eyes are glassy.

“Who?”

Another pause. Happy lets out a sigh.

“Tony.”

Peter shakes his head. “Why?”

Happy breaks eye contact as he sets the medical instrument back down in the box.

“Because you need to know that you aren’t alone, kid.”

 Pis comme c’est ma fête le mois prochain, (And since it’s my birthday next month,) M’emmènerais-tu voir une game des Canadiens? (Will you take me to a game and lunch?)

 Meeting Tony Stark had been an experience, to say the least.

An experience that had ended with a brand new suit.

 As Happy drives back home, Peter’s body shakes with excitement.

 Once they’re both parked, Peter almost bursts open the car door— but Happy has locked it before he can even try.

“Happy?” Peter asks, an eyebrow raised. “Can you open the door?”

Happy’s hands fell from the steering wheel and onto his own lap.

“Listen, kid,” He starts, clearing his throat. “When I told Tony about you— I didn’t think that he would, you know—“ He waves his hand towards the metallic suitcase on Peter’s lap.

Peter, not a clue as to where the conversation is going, doesn’t respond.

“I just—“ Happy sighs. “You’re a smart kid. I have absolute faith in you and what you do.”

“I trust you, Peter…” Happy looks back at him, making eye contact. His voice wavers.

Peter swallows the lump in his throat. He ignores the familiar feeling of tears welling up in his eyes as Happy says one last thing;

“Just… be safe. Please.”

 Pis si personne entend pis que c’est juste une fois… (And if no one else hears, and it’s just once...)

 The wedding had been extravagant.

May had been wearing the white dress that his grandmother had worn; a family tradition, she had said.

Happy had worn his best suit.

Families and friends had attended. Joyful music had played.

A few of the Avengers had even showed up, wishing them both happiness.

As Peter clicks through the pictures that had been taken, a warm feeling blossoms in his chest upon seeing a specific one.

It’s a picture of him, May and Happy. The two adults were showing off their rings to the camera as both of their arms were wrapped around Peter’s shoulders, squeezing him into a one armed hug in between them both. All three of them had their lips curled up into the brightest smiles that they had ever had.

It’s his favourite.

 Voudrais-tu que j’t’appelle papa? (Would you want me to call you dad?)

Peter looks at the black packet in his hand.

He shakes his head and promptly throws it to the garbage can.

Peter then swings himself home, going through his window as always to get inside. Today had been an uneventful day.

As he takes off his suit, someone knocks on his door. “Hey kid, you free for a bit? We wanna show you something.” Happy calls out.

“Just a sec!” Peter replies, putting on a hoodie and pajama pants.

As soon as he’s done he walks to the living room, seeing May and Happy on the sofa with a pile of papers on the coffee table.

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “What? Is this some sort of test?”

“No, Pete,” May chuckles at him, shaking her head. She intertwines her arm with Happy’s. “Just… sit down, will you?”

Peter does as he’s told, sitting down onto the armchair adjacent to the sofa that Happy and May are both sitting in. “Well?” He asks as soon he plops down.

Happy clears his throat. “Well—“ He starts, placing a hand on top of May’s hand. “Your Aunt— that is, if you want to call her your aunt and not… I don’t know, your mo—“

Before Happy can even finish his sentence, Peter stands up. His eyes landing and focusing themselves on the papers.

There, written in big, bold letters are the words: ADOPTION FORM.

May, upon his sudden reaction, untangles her arm from Happy’s and instead places a hand on top of Peter’s. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, Pete—“

Peter looks up at May, and this time, he lets the tears fall free.

Instantly, May’s arms are around him— and it didn’t take long before Happy’s own are around him too.

“Peter? Are you okay?” May fumbles with her words, unsure on how to address his sudden outburst. “We don’t have to—“

“No,” Peter replies as he lifts his head up from their arms. “I— I want to.”

Happy, still unsure, pipes up. “Are… are you sure, kid? I mean, I understand that maybe it’s a bit too fast—“

Peter just shakes his head. He’s sobbing, but his whole body is filled with joy and excitement and glee and he’s so sure that he wants this. 

“I am,” He says, as May and Happy wipe the tears off of his face.

“A hundred percent.” He smiles.

and as always, requests are open! pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! :]

[bluebellhairpin]

La Vie En Rose

Kili X Reader

A/N: I’ve been so lazy lately, sorry this has taken so long T-T. Set in an AU where everyone is still happy and ALIVE after BotFA. That’s how we all would of preferred the movies to end anyway. - Nemo

Request: For the dialogue prompt request c: Please and thank you! 49. "I spent the last year learning Ukulele so I could play you that." — With Kili and can the song be la vie en rose? I have a really good cover I can link you too. Super sweet and wholesome. - @dicksoutformtl 

Prompt: 49 - “I spent the last year learning Ukulele so I could play you that.”

Song: ‘La Vie En Rose’ by Reneé Dominique (Ukulele Cover) 

Summary: You had met Kili many years before he left to go retake the mountain with his brother and Uncle. When you got word of how injured he was after the battle to take back the mountain, both you and Dis set off right away to see him (along with his brother and uncle). A few more years passed and the dwarves had all settled back into their old home. Kili, however, still has one last thing he needs to make the mountain his home again.

Masterlist  

Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Il me parle tout bas

Je vois la vie en rose

You’d heard about your friends soon-to-be-under-way journey. They’d decided to take back their home.

Your home.

You wanted to help, but Kili, the nephew of your king and best friend, had told you no; that it was too dangerous and he didn’t want you getting hurt.

You had more of a problem about him getting hurt considering how reckless he was. That worry proved to be a valid one when you and his mother, Dis, got word of the Battle.

They’d spiraled into a battle of five different armies, and although the Mountain, your home, had been taken back, Kili, his Uncle, King Thorin and older Brother, Fili, had all gotten hurt. Thorin was worst off, having gotten injured to the state that it was life-threatening and he might not make it to next week. Kili was also rather bad, but news said he’d pull through. Fili’s injuries were all fixable by healers and a couple handfuls of stitches.

No matter the news, now it was safer and the Mountain was re-claimed, you and Dis both set off to get to the boys before it might be too late.

You and Dis made it to Lonely Mountain in half the time the Company did.

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ça me fait quelque chose

By the time Lonely Mountain was in sight your little duo were met by royal guardsmen. Having no news of whether Thorin had survived or how the brothers were was the first thing on Dis’ tongue.

Turns out Thorin was okay, still a little tender, but alive.

Fili had greatly taken up the mantle of a fill-in ruler, looking after restoration of the Mountain and housing other dwarfs like the King he was growing to become.

Kili was helping his brother as much as he could, abhit sometimes more of a liability then asset, but Fili was still grateful for the extra pair of hands and a fourth opinion (Dwalin and Balin were helping an awful lot too, per Thorin’s request).

You and Dis soon after reached the Mountains doors. You’d not realized how big they were, nor how beautifully made. You were going to have a wonderful time exploring if the rest of the Mountain was like that.

Il est entré dans mon cœur

Une part de bonheur

Dont je connais la cause

Thorin and Fili met you at the entrance, both of them pulling Dis into a tight embrace. You stood back to give them space, family reunions always made you too nostalgic to even watch at times.

“(y/n), thank you for coming with mother. I’m glad she had company while she traveled.” Fili said, catching your attention from the giant carved hallways.

“Wasn’t like I didn’t want to come. I need to tell Kili off myself for scaring both Dis and I, once I find him.” You smiled, letting Fili pull you into a short but meaningful hug.

“Maybe I should make myself scarce then.” Kili’s voice called out, “If you’re planning to give me an earful of how I should be acting that is.” he joked, jumping away with a laugh as you went to slap him behind the head.

“Don’t sass me, or I’ll get your mother onto you.” You looked over at Dis, who was smiling widely at the interaction between you and her son. She opened her arms to him and he stepped right on in. He was a mamma's boy after all.

C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie

Il me l'a dit, l'a juré pour la vie

A few days passed and you found yourself gaining a routine. Dis already had one, and found herself getting into the swing of things within a couple hours. You had to have some help; living in a village was much different from a palace-like Mountain.

There were changes in the clothes you wore, the food you ate, how you were expected to act, even how you spoke. Luckily Kili was more then happy, just about eager, to help, so was Dis and Fili. Thorin was a bit testy, but quietly pointed out whether you were using the right fork so you wouldn’t get caught off.

You found out you enjoyed getting dressed up for dinners, made you feel like a royal too. Some even though you were one, or at least married to one from how you interacted with Kili.

When situations like that came up a blush tinted both your cheeks, and you both made quiet and unenthusiastic attempts to deny the statements.

Honestly, it was almost physically painful for those who knew you both well, like Fili, Dis, and Balin to watch and hear. Once they got so close to having enough that they heavily toyed with locking you both in the smallest broom closet on hand just so it’d be official.

Thorin stopped them. His almost-fatherly instincts kicked in and he didn’t want his youngest nephew being married so soon. Not that he’d tell anyone that.

Et dès que je l'aperçois

Alors je sens en moi

Mon cœur qui bat

Unbeknownst to them all and you, Kili was planning a little wooing of his own. In fact he’d been doing so since they went passed Rivendell.

Because he missed you.

He found himself missing you so much he wanted nothing more than you to be with him for as long as you lived. But he didn’t just want to ask you. He felt that was too boring and that you deserve something more special.

He had everything so well planned, he didn’t even need anyone else’s help.

What he didn’t plan for was you walking in on him when he was practicing.

Hold me close and hold me fast

The magic spell you cast

This is La Vie En Rose

“What… What are you doing Kili?” You asked him, a questioning look on your face. He was caught half-strum, fingers still on the cords, mouth frozen as he turned to face you, awkward smile slowly reaching his lips.

“Hi (y/n), what brings you here?” he asked, standing and trying to ‘casually’ hide the ukulele behind the bed. His smile was turning less nervous and more devious as if trying to make you follow where he was try to change the subject to.

“I heard music. It was coming from your room. I didn’t know why, quite frankly I still don’t.” You said, changing the subject back to what he was doing. His smile fell, swapping it out to bite his lip.

“I, um… I was playing and practicing.”

“What for?” You asked, but he stayed silent, shuffling his feet on the floor for a while. You sighed. “Doesn’t matter. But you- do you think you could play for me anyway? I liked the sound of it.” You said quietly. He looked up at you abruptly, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Really?” he asked, the small smile now a hopeful and wide one. You nodded with a laugh.

“Yes Kili.”

When you kiss me heaven sighs

And though I close my eyes

I see La Vie En Rose

Kili had soon finished playing. You’d moved to sit closer, which was a stool right opposite him. He looked up to see you still staring at him with a light smile.

“That was beautiful Kili, when did you learn how to do that?” You asked, leaning forwards awaiting his answer.

“I spent the last year learning Ukulele so I could play you that.” he admitted shyly, looking down to twang the ukulele strings a couple times before looking up into your eyes. “I’d planned to play it to you in a much nicer place. Candles and all that, it’d even be on one of the balconies facing west so we’d get the last of the sunset as the stars came up.” he added softly.

You smiled wider and took one of his hands in yours.

“Why though? You still haven’t told me why.” You said with a soft giggle, red rose to his cheeks and he mumbled something that you had to ask to be repeated.

“I think you’re my one. I want to marry you.” he repeated, “If you want to, that is.”

“Of course I do. I’d want nothing more in the whole world.”

When you press me to your heart

I'm in a world apart

A world where roses bloom

News of your wedding spread quickly, at least it did after you told Dis. Thorin was good at keeping secrets, and you had to go to him first to ask for a blessing. He gave it to you and Kili almost screamed in happiness.

Fili was next, and was ready to yell from the rooftops that his little brother was getting married as soon as you gave the OK for him to do so.

After Fili was Balin and Dwalin, then the rest of the company.

Dis was told last, and for good reason since she went around telling everyone about it, from the high-council chamber members to the kitchen staff.

You’re wedding itself went without a hitch. Everything ran smoothly, and despite the elven king being invited, Thorin kept his brooding and overall angsty-ness to a minimum.

The dinner and dancing was your favourite part, everyone was so cheerful and filled with ale that the dancing was done horribly, meaning it was all extremely heartfelt and showed how well or badly some close to you did dance. Fili is a horrible dancer.

Kili, however, is a extremely good one.

And when you speak angels sing from above

Everyday words seem to turn into love songs

Kili’s favourite part was the kiss. He’d wanted to kiss you since forever, and now he finally got to, and it felt exactly as he thought it would. His other favorite part was the dinner, he got to watch you as you danced around, cheeks tinted pink, and he realised (again) how much he loves you.

Marrying you, his one, was the best thing he ever did.

Give your heart and soul to me

And life will always be

La Vie En Rose

[fangsmyth]

jim carrey in sonic will steal my heart on valentines day || accepting

@enradiant​ sent: M I N E C R A F T was this for john bc--

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

renting out an entire gothic mansion/castle and just going to town for a whole week. it’d probably be interlaced with some soft intimate moments like sharing dinner and literally all the lights would be candles and sharing a bath with rose petals in a clawfoot tub... but yeah mostly just a nice lil bit of indulgence for the aesthetic

would have to be with a vampire though or someone that will at least be willing to pull off that many theatrics for him it’s important it’s part of the bit

I    :   I LOVE YOU.   does your muse find ‘i love you’ easy or hard to say?

disturbingly easy like he is Very close to saying it to the point where it’s relatively meaningless. lanque is extra and likes saying it in hidden and subtle ways rather than the direct statement, because it just seems so... basic but yeah lanque saying things like “you know if you’re not okay with me doing this, you can just say it, right?” or asking questions so he can surprise you with thoughtful gifts later

he’s really loving he’s just mediocre at showing it directly

N   :   NAUGHTY.   what is your muse like in bed?

oh he’s a fucking nightmare. lanque has done so much and just has such high standards for what it takes for him to cum he can get pretty abrasive and rough, but he’s also fairly accommodating. ( ignoring the fact that he will literally fuck you until you pass out ) he’s into pain, but since he’s expecting disappointment anyways his partner comes first. 

sex is important for him. he feels like it’s the only way he can do any form of ‘healing’ without breaking character, and that it’s super freeing? lanque is horny with reason i promise you.

there’s a lot of dirty talking going on the fucker is also super efficient and quick to find exactly which spots get his partner going ummm bitch loves doin Oral....... Obviously..................... i could literally go on for hours but i will cut myself off there

E   :   EMBRACE.   does your muse like hugs? what are their hugs like?

NO he doesn’t like hugs or at least if he’s going to hug it better turn into something else!! which is unfortunate because lanque gives such soft and strong hugs that offer so much safety that flat out doesn’t exist. he’s powerful his skin and nice smells are a secret poison

lanque hates doing aftercare bc it’s too personal did i mention--

( @faithlines​ also sent C ! )  C   :   CHOCOLATE.   does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

yes, but lanque mainly likes dark chocolate. like SUPER dark chocolate, he’ll indulge in like bon bons with fruit in em or smth but generally speaking he wants that cool 70% cacao he likes bitter shit on occasion

R   :   ROMANCE.   is your muse a romantic or a cynic?

he sells himself as a cynic but he’s a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuge romantic! lanque loves flowers and poetry, one of his big big secret wishes is just going out on a picnic with someone and them playing the violin for him as he sips white wine and watches birds or some soft shit i’m so tired i crave him to stop feeling fear

A   :   AFFECTION.   how does your muse show affection?

lanque doesn’t say anything, he pulls you into his lap ( or takes a seat in yours if you’re taller than him ) and just sort of... tucks his head in a good spot. he loves to talk, but his means of showing affection are usually super silent? he definitely expresses it more through actions, like lanque will literally never hug anyone that’s endgame that’s new game plus you fucking did it

F   :   FLIRT.   is your muse good at flirting? how do they flirt?

extremely good do not let me fool you he’s a very talented himbo with a silver tongue and a taste for vengeance lanque generally manages to get by through sheer bluntness alone and is honestly just so forward most people would reasonably see it as overwhelming and intimidating?

but at the same time it’s cool, he’s confident, he makes you feel really special if you don’t know him. and tbf he will stop if you tell him to stop, but unfortunately he does get kind of dickish and peer pressure-y more so just to make you feel bad but

......also really explicit and straightforward ask him what he wants to do to you and he’ll give you a super detailed outline in his own words he never saw the point in beating around the bush

T   :   TRUE LOVE.   does your muse believe in true love?

yeeeeeeeeees he Craves it he’s never Experienced it but he’s sure it’s out there

@grimtherapist​ sent: U X J

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

oh every other month, honestly if lanque has a relationship that doesn’t end with him breaking his own heart he’ll freak out! he’s used to drama and lives on it, the idea of having a normal, healthy relationship is  𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚏𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐

he probably got his heart snapped too hard by somebody in his youth and just never recovered but you know c’is la vie doesn’t excuse being a fucking monster

X   :   XOXO.   does your muse use / like pet names?

lanque LOVES pet names!!!! he already uses the bad ones for catcalling and all that, but they’re more like placeholders? when the relationship develops, and this is sort of a hidden means of showing it, he’ll come up with specific ones tailored just for you 

it’s to make them feel special but it also makes it easier for him to take advantage of them did i ever mention that lanque is an objectively terrible partner

J   :   JEALOUSY.   does your muse get jealous in a relationship?

all the time!!! lanque drops so many little things to try and distance his partners away from some of their friends or people they’re into, too like pointing out subtle quirks that really should bother people but no one really notices until someone points it out. he’s the guy to point it out. he’s terrible.

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 19)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18

Part 20: here

Arthur drives continuously until he’s forced to stop for fuel. At a small roadside gas station, he grabs a breakfast bar, loads up on five-hour energy shots and uses a cramped, single-stall restroom in a brief attempt at freshening up. All his clean clothing is in his backpack, which he’s left in the motel room. Luckily, his washed-out apricot shirt and orange shorts double as daywear and aren't too worn.

Back on the road  Arthur carefully keeps his mind blank, listening absently to the radio chatter and fixating on the way stretching ahead. He deliberately doesn’t think about Vivi and Lewis and resolutely ignores the occasional buzzing of his phone, which starts seconds after his departure and continues at odd intervals throughout the day.

He wishes he could switch it off, but he needs to receive calls from Darrel, who’s been worryingly silent so far.  Thus, he’s stuck feeling guilty every time the screen lights up with an incoming call or text message. If only Vivi and Lewis would give up and decide to enjoy their time together without him. Unfortunately, his friends worry an awful lot, and he suspects that abandoning them in some middle-of-nowhere town wasn't going to help.

Maybe, when he explains a few things, stuff will get better. If Vivi and Lewis still want to be around him. He’s still on the fence about telling them to whole truth but, at this point, it’s either that or invent some entirely new lie. Arthur's so sick of lying. Honestly, he would rather spend eternity alone in his room and not interact with anyone then keep up the charade. But...no use obsessing about the future now. There will be plenty of time to figure out how he’s going to explain everything- and panic about how he’s somehow messed up the timeline - once he’s seen Lance alive and well.

Unlike the trip out, where they had lost multiple hours to rest stops, Arthur makes good time -if you could call eight hours, good time-and approaches his destination both sooner and slower than he would have liked. With one hand strangling the wheel, Arthur finally builds the courage needed to reach for his phone. There’s still been no news from Darrel, which he hopes is a good sign. At the next red light, he dials while scanning road signs for the correct exit. Nervously, he drums his fingers to the soft beat of some unfamiliar song on the radio.

Darrel answers almost immediately so Arthur is saved from waiting too long.

“Yo Arthur, was about to call, where are you man,” the other man says, sounding oddly upbeat, considering the situation.

Arthur ignores the question, quickly asking, “How’s Uncle Lance? Is he okay? What’s happening?” All that stress and anxiety he's been neglecting is now front and centre.

“Whoa,” Darrel cuts him off,  “Yeah, I was about to say. He’s in surgery, and so far there’s been no word. Like, the nurses said they were mainly concerned about blood loss. He was hooked up to a needle, like, straight away, but we waited a few hours for the surgery, so I guess that means there was no really serious internal damage.”

Arthur winces, blood loss was something he was intimately familiar with, “Anything else?”

“Both his legs had a few hairline fractures, a broken bone here and there, and the doctors mentioned surface stab wounds,” Darrel adds after a moment of thought. The other man sounds a lot calmer when compared to his almost panic on the phone earlier that morning. Arthur takes the change as a good sign.

“Right…” Arthur exhales a long breath. At least his Uncle isn’t dying. The guilt he has been carrying since leaving Vivi and Lewis still pulls at his chest and stomach, but at least things with his Uncle aren't as dire as they could be. It's still bad, but maybe he'll get out of this not having somehow caused his Uncle’s death.

“So, you said you were driving down, how far off are you?” Darrel asks after his elongated pause.

“Ah, sorry, I’m about twenty minutes out.”

“Jeez, that’s close,” Darrel remarks, surprised, “How about I meet you in the car park near the emergency ward, it’s the first turn off the main…”

“I know where it is,” He reassures, stifling a yawn. Despite multiple energy shots, he’s really feeling the strain of the last twenty-four hours, “and yeah…that sounds good.”

“You want me to get you a coffee or something dude? Cause I guess you haven’t eaten yet,”

“Coffee sounds be pretty good right about now. Thanks….Darrel.” Arthur doesn't know what he would have done had Darrel not found his Uncle when he did.

“No problemo. Not much to do except wait for the doctors to say something. I'll tell you more in person when you get here.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

Darrel hangs up, and Arthur tosses his phone back into the front passenger seat realising a tired sigh.  He focuses again on the road and navigating the busy streets leading into the towns moderately sized business district. By now he knows the way to St Peter’s Medical and Emergency Centre off by heart. His stomach is doing small flips, churning in a mixture of nerves, fear and anxiety. If he had never stepped foot in that building again, it would have still been too soon. All his memories of the place are linked with Lewis’s disappearance, a long and painful rebab, multiple surgeries, and Vivi’s inexplicable amnesia.

It’s just as unappealing as he remembers. Dull grey, utilitarian, and accompanied by an impending sense of dread. Arthur ignores his instinctive need to turn and drive in the opposite direction, locating the entrance to the correct car pack. It’s a small underground lot, consisting of visitor and employee parking, situated near the  Emergency Centre portion of the building.

Arthur squints when he transitions from daylight to the carpark’s dime fluorescence. The layout is such that he has to drive past the main elevator giving access to the hospital. True to word, he spots Darrel next to the collection of lifts and stairs, casually leaning against a concrete support structure, coffee in hand.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to look far for an empty park, finding one several cars down. He exits his van a bundle of jumpy, nervous energy, fidgeting and smoothing down his wrinkled shirt as he goes. He feels he can probably get away with wearing it into the hospital. It's only seen one night of wear.

“Hey Arthur,” Darrel strolls up, giving a small wave, “How you holding up?”

“Tired from the drive,”  Arthur admits, crossing over through deserted carpark towards the other man, “How’s Uncle Lance?”

“Still in surgery last I checked,” Darrel causally shrugs. All his urgency and stress is gone to be replaced with an almost board disposition. Arthur hesitates, slightly thrown by oddly discordant temperament.

“You talked to one of the triage nurses, right?” He shakes off the uncertainty, letting worry for his Uncle occupy his full attention, “What did they say exactly. Come on, you can fill me in on the way up to…”

Arthur doesn’t get more than partway into the sentence when Darrel, who’s in the process of handing him a coffee, stumbles. The coffee spills across his shirt, splattering across his shoulder. Arthur registers the discomfort of hot liquid and Darrel’s half-hearted apology before the other man leans in and grips both sides of his head. Arthur flinches away at the unexpected proximity. Their eyes meet.

Green.

The colour is bright. Familiar. An intangible force seams to wrap about his limbs, tangling itself up in his mind, pulling him down. For a second Arthur is…

...walking down a gloomy stone tunnel. Torchlight flickers, illuminating the figer of Lewis up ahead. Lewis steps out into a spacious cavern, holding the flaming torch aloft. Arthur trips on uneven rock, hand brushing against the cave walls. Pain shoots up his limb, and he stops, staring at the appendage, confused. Had he cut himself?

“Hey, Arthur! Come check out this view!” Lewis’s call distracts him…

Arthur tries to draw a breath, preparing for a panic response, but a wall comes down like a guillotine, separating him from the physical reaction he’s expecting. His chest constricts, and then there is the buzz of adrenalin getting dumped into his system, prepping him for fight or flight. Usually, this was when he’d start breathing hard, maybe hyperventilating, but he’s been cut adrift from his body, so the onslaught comes to an abrupt halt. Of course, he still panics, but it’s a mental, internal panic, accompanied by overwhelming dread and fear.

Darrel, who has let go of Arthur’s head, stumbles back, collapsing to the ground like he’s a puppet and someone’s cut the strings. Arthur raises a hand, wiggling his fingers, rolling his shoulders and inhaling. The breathless, tight sensation immediately evaporates.

“Finally,” He breaths out and Arthur realises with growing horror that it’s not him who's doing the talking. Muscles along his arms and legs spasm experimentally also beyond his control.  

No. No. No. This isn’t him! It’s not him! Why is this so familiar?! Memories, long buried, both familiar and foreign, vie for his attention.

…“Hey Arthur! Come check out this view!” Lewis’s call distracts him.

His arm is numb now, but Arthur finds himself unfocussed, mesmerised by the patterns of light which are catching on the green, mossy walls and sharp stalagmites far below. He and Lewis are standing on a ledge overlooking a steep drop…

“Oh god,” Darrel’s voice draws his attention. The other man is scrambling back along the ground, shaking in fear. He’s scared of Arthur.

“Jesus. Oh, God!”

“Nope. No God here,” Arthur’s body comments, fixing its attention on the other man.

Darrel attempts to stand.

“Oh no. I’m not letting you go as well. Not this time,” Arthur growls, sweeping out a leg, knocking Darrel to the ground. Calmly, he walks around, stumbling briefly when one of his thigh muscles twitch suddenly. Despite this falter he still manages to kick Darrel over again, preventing him from escaping.

“Look, dude,” Darrel holds out his hands in a gesture of surrender, twisting around on his back, “I’ll give you anything. I won’t tell anyone. I swear. Just let me go. Please. I have a family, man.”

“No you don’t,” Arthur scoffs, lashing out, and stomping down simultaneously. Darrel’s head connects with the concrete giving a loud thunk. The other man falls silent and still. Disturbingly, Arthur feels his body and eyes scan the empty lot, shivering with obvious pleasure. There is no one around to stop him. Internally, Arthur claws mentally at his surroundings, flailing about, attempting to find a hold where there is none. It’s not him. It wasn’t him!

“That’s more like it,” His body talks. Arthur freezes in his panic, very aware of an increasingly overwhelming pressure focusing in upon him.

“Now, before I go dump poor Darrel somewhere, let’s take a quick look at what we have. It’s been a real run around getting you, so you better hope there’s something worthwhile banging around up here.”

Memories of the last few days unravel like an old film reel, spiralling past without his consent. Like a movie permanently fixed in fast forward they rush by. Arthur feels flashes of emotion as the scenes come and go quicker than he can register.

It all comes to an abrupt halt when it hits the moment he awoke in the past. Where Arthur transitioned between falling off a cliff to waking in his bed.

“Impossible,” The thing that’s not him mutters with his mouth.

“That’s not possible,” It sounds agitated, almost angry. The foreign presence winds its way deeper into his thoughts, pulling them apart. The flashing images start up again.

“Someone’s been breaking The Rules,”  Is the last Arthur hears before he’s lost in a sea of panic and memories. This isn’t right.

He’s made a mistake.

Note: And we’ve finally hit the crisis point or whatever this is called. What a ride.

Part 20: here

[kwritersworld]

Spring Fic Exchange - Masterlist

Here you can find all the stories written by our lovely members that participated in our Spring Fic Exchange ‘19. Enjoy reading!

Your Kwritersworld Team

Sheer | written by @daelicious-jongbulge

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff,Romance, HS!AU | Wordcount: 582 | gifted to: @i-live-so-i-love ➵ Yoongi, your resident emo!tm kid would have never believed it if you told him he would fall in love with resident sunshine, Hoseok

Cafuné | written by @99liners

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: fluff/comedy/nsfw | Wordcount: 3.336 | gifted to: @vanaera ➵ Cafuné (v.) running your hand through your lover’s hair.

Sweet Histamine | written by @writingsofmyimagination

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Smut | Wordcount: 2.663 | gifted to: @njssi ➵ Who would have thought forgetting to take your hay-fever tablets could end so sweetly.

Spring Rain | written by @today-we-will-survive

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff, Romance | Wordcount: 861 | gifted to: @writingsofmyimagination ➵ “So much for a romantic first day of Spring picnic,” you utter clutching the basket tightly in your white knuckled fists. From where the two of you lean in the doorway of your apartment building, you have a front row seat to the torrential downpour coming down on the city. [...]

Witchy Weddings | written by @itsthechickwiththehair

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff, Romance | Wordcount: 1.000 | gifted to: @today-we-will-survive➵ “What do you think the clouds look like today?” It was a question he asked you almost every day there were clouds in the sky. [...] The clouds looked like clouds, big pieces of fluff that drifted across the sky and occasionally spilled their tears to the earth below. You had asked him, on a day that he seemed to be feeling blue, why he liked asking you the same question every time. He smiled in response, looking up at the sky. “Because clouds are a lot like people.” [...]     

Let me inspire you | written by @today-we-will-survive

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff, Romance, Angst | Wordcount: 1.375 | gifted to: @minstrivia ➵ It’s a short walk to Yoongi’s apartment, but one you always enjoy. The trees lining the streets of the city are in full bloom, coating the sidewalks with white and pink petals. The air smells fresh like grass and last night’s rain. You’ve always loved the spring the most. It’s a time for new things to come into fruition. And it’s when you met Yoongi.

Dancing in the rain | written by @itsthechickwiththehair

➵ Band: Got7 | Genre: Fluff,Romance | Wordcount: 1.200 | gifted to: @restlessmaknae ➵ You packed up your things and started to head out, saying goodbye to your coworkers as you passed by their desks. Most of them looked like their souls had been ripped out of their bodies, although some of them looked a bit more awake with the amount of caffeine they had flowing through their system. You were halfway there yourself, but most of your motivation to get the project done as fast as you did was the thought of your loving boyfriend.

Spring is here (and it’s trying to kill you) | written by @today-we-will-survive

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 1.500 | gifted to: @njssi ➵ It’s supposed to be a fun, relaxing day with your best friends, celebrating the end of the cold months and hanging out before they go back on tour but you can’t help the uneasy feeling that’s growing in the pit of your stomach as you look around the field at the tiny specks floating on the breeze. Those evil little balls of fluff and pollen are your worst enemies, and here you are completely unarmed.

Querencia | written by @softjeon

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff, a little bit of angst | Wordcount: 3.500  | gifted to: @seokoloqy ➵  In reality there was no beauty in heartbreak. Nothing that made it easy. Only pain. The cold and yourself - stripped down to your bare feelings. It embraced you, welcoming you like an old friend, leaving you wondering if you’d ever feel warm again. | querencia (Spanish, n.) - a place from which one’s strength is drawn, where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self

I’m just a foreigner | written by @jinniesbby

➵ Band: NCT | Genre: High School!AU | Wordcount: 728 | gifted to: @bangtantannie ➵  You take a step towards the pain in the ass that calls himself Lucas and narrow your gaze.“Okay. Listen up buddy and listen well. I will never in a million years go out on a date with you.” You state firmly, poking his well-toned, chiseled chest. Wait. What? Has he always been like that?

I saw him standing there | written by @jinniesbby

➵ Band: NCT | Genre: Angst, Romance | Wordcount: 771 | gifted to: @99liners ➵ The neighbor who doesn’t know about your swift infatuation with him. The neighbor who only makes you fall deeper and deeper in the black hole that you call a crush. The neighbor who so happens to like another girl that it honestly causes your heart to ache whenever you think about it.

Lil something called love | written by @daelicious-jongbulge

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff, Romance | Wordcount: 825 | gifted to: @itsthechickwiththehair ➵ all life contains water and all life can be bent to your whim. 

Blood in the water | written by @seokoloqy

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Smut, Angst, Avatar!AU | Wordcount: 6.800 | gifted to: @sopewriters ➵ It’s just- you know- sitting here and seeing you surrounded by all these beautiful flowers like the perfect angel you are, makes me realize just how in love I am with you” or in which Yoongi sneaks you out to a flower field the night before your wedding

The melody remedy | written by @daelicious-jongbulge

➵ Band: Day6 | Genre: Fluff, Romance | Wordcount: 543 | gifted to: @restlessmaknae ➵ In which he softy lulls you to sleep in the midst of a springtime storm.

Sleep Morning | written by @i-live-so-i-love

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Smut | Wordcount: 2122 | gifted to: @softjeon ➵ Sleepy morning cuddles turn into more.

Euphoria| written by @kimlinebiased

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Smut | Wordcount: 4500 | gifted to: @softjeon ➵ Jungkook has had a crush on the leader of BTS since forever. Now that Namjoon is helping write his solo for the upcoming album, this could be his perfect chance.

Tears & Raindrops mingle | written by @restlessmaknae

➵ Band: Ikon | Genre: Fluff, light Angst | Wordcount: 4100 | gifted to: @flora-jimin ➵ In which you bump into the CEO of a nearby bar when you are just as heart-broken as him and it doesn’t seem to go well at first.

Balter | written by @99liners

➵ Band: MonstaX | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 2064 | gifted to: @flora-jimin ➵ balter (v.) to become tangled.

A window to your heart | written by @vanaera 

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff, slight angst | Wordcount: 3725 | gifted to: @today-we-will-survive ➵ When you–Jimin’s hellbound boss who initiates ridiculous post-it wars, unnecessary height challenges, whilst giving him loads of paperwork he finds too much for an intern–do not show up at work one Thursday, Jimin is definitely over the moon. However, his supposed miracle day takes a different turn when he later finds himself in a bus stop, awkwardly comforting you after finding you drenched under the rain.

Way down in bed stuy | written by @minstrivia

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Smut, slight angst | Wordcount: 5000 | gifted to: @taendrils ➵ as a final farewell you fuck your sister’s unbelievably attractive knave boyfriend that you definitely do not have feelings for…again.

La Vie en rose | written by @sopewriters

➵ Band: EXO | Genre: Fluff, Angst, Humor | Wordcount: 5500 | gifted to: @roseyjongdae ➵ It was a chaotic morning, and you were running late, and everything that could possibly have gone wrong did go wrong, and then… you found him. If only you hadn’t lost him just as quick.

No Place He’d rather be | written by @flora-jimin

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 5300 | gifted to: @apotatomashedbybts ➵ Yoongi gets called to help out at Jin’s daycare and the following is a small, fluffy oneshot of him realizing Hoseok’s wonderful at childcare and that he’s fallen head over heels for the man.

Fallen for you | written by @njssi

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 4400 | gifted to: @jinniesbby ➵ Your best friend returns to your life after half a year of almost no communication while he dealt with an ending relationship. However, you could have never guessed what he really had to tell you when you agreed to meet.

A Valentines Date | written by @sopewriters

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 2000 | gifted to: @jinniesbby​ ➵ So, you and your fake boyfriend decide to spend a Valentine’s evening together doing a lot less than what most actual couples normally do. Yet, this is the most fun you’ve had in the longest time and gosh, since when did looking at Jungkook’s stupid smile get your heart to flutter like this?

Under the cherry blossoms | written by @apotatomashedbybts

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 5800 | gifted to: @kimlinebiased ➵ Namjoon and Seokjin, high school best friends and college sweethearts, are deeply in love with each other. Just when they were about to take everything next level, a terrible accident pushes them apart, well for a while. But when the love is true, you always stick by. And for them no way is difficult enough if they are together.

But you do... | written by @apotatomashedbybts

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Fluff | Wordcount: 5800 | gifted to: @njssi ➵ Lee, an ordinary girl, with an ordinary wish to have a loving family. But not always all wishes come true, not even the simplest ones. She still has to know that family doesn’t always mean the same, it could be a single person too.]

Breaking the rose | written by @bangtantannie

➵ Band: BTS | Genre: Romance, Angst | Wordcount: 6000 | gifted to: @minstrivia ➵ Lost in a world of rose and pink, what does one do when the one that abandoned them finally returns.

Thank you to everyone who made our first event so beautiful! You all wrote amazing stories and we can’t wait to hold more Network activities in the future!

- Your Kwritersworld Team

[starwarsdestroyedme]

I am damaged

Just another Reylo one-shot I wrote. Although it was inspired by a Heathers’ song, listen to “Toi qui manques à ma vie” from Natasha St. Pier if you really want to enjoy the complete emotional experience.

AO3 link  ffc.net link

Summary: 

Ben Solo was damaged from the very beginning, maybe Rey was damaged too. That might be why both broken pieces fit perfectly.

‘He grabbed her hands between his, and placing them together he blew to warm them.

“Your hands are cold” he mumbled.

“You aren’t wearing your gloves”.’

Inspired by “I am damaged” from Heathers.

Five years had passed since that fateful battle in Snoke’s throne room, where Rey believed she had grasped what remained of Ben Solo inside Kylo Ren. For a moment she thought it possible to recover him, bring him back home. She was wrong.

Nobody could return Ben Solo to what used to be his life, because all of it was broken. Han Solo had disappeared and Luke too. Rey knew this, and, honestly, she didn’t wish to drag him back to something that had brought so much pain, to him and to his family. Nonetheless, she kept hope that she could take him  somewhere new and better. Somewhere that didn’t involve death, nor militarism, nor the horror caused by the First Order. Was she too optimistic?

Most likely, anyone would think so, but if she had specialised in something it was rescuing whatever had deteriorated and fixing it. She also knew that, in order to help Ben, he had to let her.

There lay the problem, everyone’s mistake. Nobody could bring Kylo Ren back.

Many years ago, in Jakku, she had seen two children dragging the dying body of, presumably, their grandfather. One glimpse had been enough to know they wouldn’t make it.  Not because the kids weren’t strong enough, not at all. Upon seeing the man she knew that he didn’t plan on staying alive. In order to save someone it is needed that the person wants to be saved.

For that reason, the only one capable of redeeming Kylo Ren was Kylo Ren himself. The moment he decided to take the first step Rey would go to him, and she wouldn’t allow anyone to stop them. Until then, Rey would wait for as long as it took.

Leia’s death hit them unexpectedly. Rey didn’t know the woman as well as she would have liked, but she admired her for certain. The general received the funeral she deserved, everyone who loved her attended a beautiful ceremony where the body was cremated and the ashes were laid down to rest inside a mausoleum created to honor the victims of Alderaan.

The room shaped as an apse was surrounded by walls made of obsidian, where the names of survivors from Alderaan, who had died far from home, had being embedded with alabaster. Plasma lights placed behind the white mineral made the names look like stars floating in space. The floor too was covered with obsidian. In the centre of the room a pedestal of carved ebony rested, on which the remains of Leia lay. The labradorite urn glowed like a star at the half-lit environment.

Rey stood in front of the monument when everybody had already left. It seemed right.

“Now a princess rests with her people” said Kylo Ren with a gloomy voice. More than usual.

Rey could feel the emotions of that man dressed in darkness.  He had awakened the bond for the first time in months, not because of her, but to pay his respects the only way he could.

“I thought you couldn’t see my surroundings”answered Rey, as if to confirm her presence. She preferred using a meaningless sentence rather than tackling the true issue straightforwardly.

“The bond is evolving” he explained dryly, looking at the names written over the walls, like shunning the image of his mother’s urn could change reality.  “We can see eachother’s surroundings…” he turned his face to stare at her with his reddened eyes “and feel their emotions too”.

Rey spent the next few hours holding him. None of them bothered to say a word. Kylo didn’t cry, although they both knew he wanted to.

The bond had sprung to life again. It happened during the morning, while Rey had breakfast in her room. Poe, who had ascended to the leadership of the Resistance, prioritized that Rey could move in a tranquil environment in order to make progress in her studies of the Jedi texts. What the pilot didn’t understand was that it did not work that way. Rey didn’t follow the Jedi path strictly, she left place for her emotions and impulses, she kept light and a piece of darkness within. Devoting herself to contemplative life for months wouldn’t provide her a revelation. She felt bored rather than concentrated.

So when Kylo appeared before her, she focused on him.

“What are you doing?” she asked with curiosity.

Kylo sat in front of a desk where he had placed some utensils and a paper sheet, just like the ones  her books were made of, but bigger. When he heard her speak he turned. Rey was able to see that he had poured a black liquid over some sort of stone plate. He held a brush in his right hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves.

Kylo glanced at her with surprise.

“I’m writing”.

“But… you are using papel”.

“You can write on paper too”.

“I know that” she answered ignoring the fact that he had just treated her as if she was stupid. “But, why do you use paper? Nobody does, the first thing I’ve ever seen written on paper have been these books” she explained pointing at the book resting on her lap “and they are ancient”.

Kylo remained quiet, considering her.

“It calms me. When I write I can focus better. Compared to technology, paper is warmer,  more... personal... I guess”.

“You open yourself to the light when you write” she wasn’t asking, she could sense it. Kylo looked at her, for real this time, his compassive eyes betrayed him. Rey was right. “What are you writing?”.

Kylo didn’t speak for a moment. Rey could feel his longing, the conflict, and she wished to say something to help him, but he replied before she got the chance.

“Poetry”.

The image of Kylo dissolved right after that, leaving her by herself again.

“Ben…”.

The next time she saw him writing, Rey didn’t waste time and started to ask questions to satiate her curiosity.

“What do you use that plate for?” she asked pointing at the stone-made instrument.

“It’s called inkstone, you use it to put the ink there and control the amount you get to write” he began to explain calmly. “I’ll show you”.

Kylo made a gesture telling her to come close. Rey took a chair from her room and sat by his side. He grabbed a bar of a dark material that was kept inside a wooden box.

“This is the ink. You pour some water at the deep part of the inkstone and dissolve it. It mustn’t be too dense, because then your traces will look too thick,  but, also, not too liquid, because the ink will look too clear” Kylo said while he dissolved the accurate amount of ink and mixed it with a brush.

His years of skill became evident. For the first time Rey wondered how many years was he older. She would have liked to know her  birthday, then she could ask his and find out.

“There must be a balance” she replied, proving she had understood.

“Exactly”.

She watched how he carefully wiped the brush against the shallow part of the inkstone to take away the excess of ink.

“Now, posture is very important to write. You have to place yourself one fist apart the desk” he showed her placing his fist between his stomach and the desk “and one fist apart from the chair. You also need to stand straight. This is because when you make the brush strokes you accompany the movement with your body”.

Kylo wrote a word expertly, leaving Rey amazed by the beauty in his handwriting.

“Mamihlapinatapai” Rey read slowly “I haven’t heard that word in any of the languages I speak”.

“It is an untranslatable word”.

“What does it mean?”.

She didn’t know what had caused it, whether it was her question or the situation, she was struck when she saw Kylo smile a little.

“It doesn’t matter” he quickly dismissed it “now you try it”.

He extended his hand and offered her the brush. Rey took it without touching his bare hand. She did as he had before, placing herself in the right way. She dipped the brush in the ink and removed the excess. Rey looked at Kylo.

“What do I write?”.

“Try your name first, that’s what I did at the beginning” something inside Rey shrunk thinking about a younger version of him writing ‘Ben Solo’ in quick and neat characters.

Rey started writing, trying to copy what he had seen him do. ‘Resh, esk, yirt’.

“It doesn’t look that good” she said, somehow disappointed.

“I think it is very impressive, I wouldn’t be able to tell this is your first attempt”.

They stared at eachother. Rey thought that she wanted to kiss him, just a peck on his lips, some kind of contact. Something passed between them. Did he want to kiss her too?  Kylo broke eye contact and glanced at the word he had written.

What did it mean?

Her first kiss didn’t go as expected.

She had got drenched by an unexpected rainstorm when she had crossed the base to retrieve some mechanical supplies.

Kylo appeared when she was about to reach her room to get a long warm shower.

“People normally take their clothes off when having a bath” he said in a cunning tone.

“Oh, I’m sure you are an expert at spending all day half-naked, but, actually, some of us have this thing called decency” she answered angrily while shivering.

“You’re shaking” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yes, and unless you can fix that…”.

Then Kylo did something unexpected, he grabbed her hands between his, and placing them together he blew to warm them.

“Your hands are cold” he mumbled.

“You aren’t wearing your gloves”.

“I was writing when the bond opened, I never wear them when I do that, they get in the way”.

Rey had never felt so small in her entire life, not even in a battle. The intimacy of the moment made her feel tiny and confused, and she had the strange feeling that time was slowing around them. Kylo felt impossibly warm, and the realisation hit her, she had never thought this man could be described as warm, and yet…

No, he wasn’t, only when it came to her.

Rey got closer, the cold felt like too much, and Kylo’s presence reassured her. How he could calm her so much, she didn’t know. Rey felt safe.

Kylo must have sensed something through the bond, because his expression, usually stoic, got overflown by emotion. His eyes trembled. ‘We can sense the other’s emotions’ Rey reminded herself.

Suddenly, Kylo had wrapped his arms around her protectively. She sensed the same feeling of safety coming from him.  Then, he gently pulled her face away from the crook of his neck using the Force, and made her look at him again.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips against her, the gesture was filled with tenderness. Peace surged from the man who held her. Rey wanted to cry. Maker, she felt so full. Rey gave herself to the kiss passionately.

Peace and passion.

Light and darkness.

Rey and Ben.

Balance.

In different circumstances such degree of nudity would have made her feel modesty. Instead, she found herself comfortable, at home. The bed had morphed into a fortress of scrambled sheets and warmth. Her body touched the quilt, everything seemed softer than usual. Rey buried her feet under a blanket that had been misplaced at the edge of the mattress,  a pleasant sensation ran through her as she felt the heat trapping her toes. She committed herself to enjoy the feeling of Ben’s hot and moist breath at her low neck, where he listened to her heartbeat.

As she fell asleep, she thought that moment defined the word plenitude.

Ben had decided to take the first step.

Rey didn’t take long to get the Millenium Falcon into hyperspace to go join him. Her friends had insisted to accompany her on the trip, she didn’t know very well how she would explain it to them, but it didn’t matter, with Ben on their side they would bring peace to the galaxy. He was all they needed, and all Rey needed.

Nevertheless, things hadn’t gone as planned. The First Order’s flagship, the Finalizer, had followed Ben’s TIE. The bond had awakened again, Ben materialised inside the ship, in front of everyone.

“What is he doing here?!” Finn exclaimed as he drew his blaster.

In a matter of seconds a fictional battlefield had been prepared inside the ship. Poe and Finn aimed at Ben with their weapons. Rose held her taser as if her life depended on it.

Rey came between them and Ben’s image.

“Rey leave. There’s no time for me to get on board. I’ll distract them while you flee” Ben said seriously.

“I’m not leaving without you”.

“Rey, don’t be stubborn, save yourself. I’ll buy you some time” Ben tried to persuade her, sounding frustrated.

Rey realised that, just like that man with his grandchildren, Ben didn’t plan to get out alive. She turned around in despair.

“Finn, you’re the best gunman I know, please, help me…”.

Chewie roared from the cockpit, two shots from the Star Destroyer cannons were heading their way, they needed to make it to lightspeed. Now.

Poe headed for the cockpit screaming.

“There is no time! Use the deflective shields!”.

Suddenly, both lasers stood frozen in the blackness of space.

“Rey…” Ben said with trouble “I won’t be able to hold them for too long. So listen to me. I want you to leave, go somewhere safe from this godforsaken war” at this point Rey couldn’t help crying “Don’t cry” he got closer to her and wiped the tears away “there is no place for me in this story. I’m far too damaged”.

Four more shots were fired and stopped by Ben. Rey realised he wasn’t firing them back at them because he wanted to say goodbye.

“You’re not, there’s more to you, there is hope, I’ve seen it” Rey took his hand tenderly “please, let me help you”.

“You already have”.

Ben turned and shouted.

“Chewie! I’m sorry. For everything. But I need you to get the Falcon to lightspeed, now!”.

Chewie growled affirmatively.

“No!” Rey screamed.

He could see Ben’s image starting to fade away. Six laser rays were directed against the Finaliser, making severe damage. Ben extended his hand, and the Finaliser’s engines stopped to work. The entire ship began to collapse.

“Rey,” Ben turned his face for the last time “I love you”.

Rey pulled her arms around her stomach protectively. The Falcon jumped to lightspeed just as the Finaliser busted into a ball of energy, turned into smithereens.

“I know”.

[ikonislife]

Happier.

-Yoongi x Reader

-Drabble, angst, fluff

-Inspired by Happier by Ed Sheeran. just something quick I thought of while listening to probably the saddest song I’ve listened to in a long while. 

If there was anything Yoongi hated more than being away from his bed was perhaps standing in the freezing cold street of late Autumn, away from the warmth of his bed. Yet there he was, not minding one bit as he stood at the corner of 1st and Main, giant black scarf swallowed up nearly all of his fair complexion and a black beanie to match. His hair peeking from underneath the soft fabric, soft blond consuming the vibrant ombre of hues of the sunset above leaving a few girls breathless as they stare in awe at the lonely ethereal man shuffling in front of the corner pub. They whispered about the strange sadness emanating from the handsome man despite nothing aside from those sharp eyes visible underneath his many layers of garments. Yoongi spared them no glance as he studied the growing bustling street for any sign of the familiar shadow his heart once jumped for joy at the sight of it. Left foot then right, he was kicking them in place, not really minding that the nearby shop owners had begun to take notice of his looming figure, tsk of the tongue whether out of pity or vex he didn’t know. Perhaps both because what man would be so much of a nuisance to pathetically wait for someone that might or might not even be passing by here but he couldn’t risk it. 

As the glimmer of the sky above dulled down in the reflection of his expensive watch, Yoongi pulled the edges of his grey coat closer, retreating form hoping to reserve heat, prolong the time he could remain out here for as long as possible before serious damage could be done. Like the angle you were, still very much is in his eyes, your graceful self sauntered down the road just across the way from him. The face he thought had frozen long ago cracked an impossible smile, his lips curling up brightly at the sight of you smiling so happily under the pale light of the ending of a sunset. Not even the dirty yellow street lights nor the sight assaulting neon sign of the many bars lining your way could muddle that smile that was pulling his own gummy one into the light. 

How could you still be so beautiful even in that plain pair of blue jeans and white t-shirt, a giant black coat shielding you from the wind yet he worried because you cheeks had taken on the slight rosy tone, telltale sign you needed extra warmth… His warmth. This forgetful girl, he thought scanning your perfectly curled hair bouncing in the slight breeze. Yoongi chuckled a bit thinking of the first time you both had gone out, you of course leaving your own beanie at home, flustered when he pointed out just how frost bitten your cheeks had gotten. Yoongi thought it was adorable the way you hopped in one place, hands over your cheeks because it had grew 3 shades of crimson darker before that Earth shattering smile of yours bloomed when he pulled his own beanie, warmed up by body heat and all over your head. 

Yoongi watched for a bit longer, just admiring how wonderful you were lighting up everyone’s day and that crisp infectious laughter as his footfall increase, matching your pace. He whispered your name once, then twice, then it choked out the third time as you ducked under the arms of another man. He was tall, much more handsome than Yoongi in his opinion, although his style a bit boring and flat. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, then your lips and Yoongi felt his blood boiled. He picked up his pace, near running into traffic when his heart sank and fist carelessly dropping against his side… He had no right to be bad, not after the way he hurt you so. 

See, that should’ve been his embrace you were diving into, his lips on yours, and his fingers prodding at your side eliciting a hearty laugh from your chest. It should’ve been but it’s not because he had so cruelly kicked you out of his studio a month ago, screaming things that should’ve never left his lips or even formed as a thought in his brain in the first place. Yoongi locked the door, thrown himself into the recording booth because at least there he couldn’t hear your begging, your cried for him as you fell onto the ground, helpless and hurt. He ripped your heart out and stomped upon it so what right he had to be angry that you were moving on. He knew you’d move on and he knew you’d fall for someone new, someone better. He shouldn’t blame you for wanting someone that could treat you right because hell, Yoongi never did. Always taken you for granted, always seeing you as just another distraction on his quest to achieve his dream. 

So like the loser that he was, tail tucked between his legs, Yoongi settled into the bar across the street from the one you had just entered with your new man. One shot then two, three then four before he slammed a bill down onto the table as the bartender retreat with a pity shake of the head, bottle of poison left behind. Yoongi drowned himself in poison because even as bitter and as bad as the burn is, it was so much better than emptiness, something he had became acquaintance with since he came home to a half empty house. 

Namjoon’s words like flies buzzing around his head, flies that no matter how much Yoongi screamed, how hard he swatted at it, they won’t leave him alone.

“One day, one day you’ll feel happy too.”

How? How could he be happy when he was the one that cut out your heart, singlehandedly rip your soul and everything you’ve both built up for years apart just because he couldn’t handle his own words. So he smiled like a fool, smiled to shoo away advice givers, smiled to numb his pain, and smile to convince himself you’re happier. That was all that matter, you’re happier, right?

He was wasted, there was more amber liquid spilling onto the oak bar by the window than into his lips but Yoongi had stopped caring. Your smile seemed so much brighter, bigger than all the ones of the last 3 months leading up to your break up combined altogether. He knew that man in the bland suit was probably what you deserved but damn it, Yoongi was still so in love with you. He hurt you bad, hurt you like there had never anything that hurt this much before but he also needed you. He needed you but you were laughing with someone else and he accepted that you will never be like that with him ever again but that didn’t meant he couldn’t wait. What if one day tasteless suit hurt you, then he’ll be there to pick up your pieces and maybe, maybe you’ll smile at him again, maybe if he just wait… 

That was all Yoongi could remember before a strange sound lulled him to the depth of sleep, of many night wallowing in guilt and his body hit he ground. 

Startling awake, Yoongi frantically searches for any sign of tall handsome tacky suit, of your smile, of the bitterness of Autumn and of the whiskey but all he could see was rows of buttons. What in the world, he had thought before jerking away from the cold surface he had been resting on, a weird kink in his neck as he analyzes the space surrounding him. 

Gone were the damp cold bar and the barkeep with that apologetic stare, no doubt feeling sad for another poor soul passing through his pub. The black scarf that had previously engulfing him in its hold is neatly on the coat rack, lifeless and resting. His watch flashes 4PM but how could it be, he was watching the way the sunset painted your body with its golden glow just moments ago… How?

Before his head explode from the why and the how, his ears near ruptured from the tune of La Vie en Rose spewing from the speaker of his phone, filling the cold studio with this strange sense of peace and joy only you could bring. Stumbling over his own foot, Yoongi jumps at the small metal thing flashing the picture of you on your birthday last year, snuggled tight in his arms as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead. Yoongi gently but not without a hint of hesitation sliding his finger toward the green phone, awaiting the voice from the other side.

“Yoongi?”

“H-Hello?” He whispers, fearful of what come next as he utters a ragged greeting.

“Hey, baby. Did you leave yet? I’m on my way over and I totally forgot to check with you first. Did you eat, please tell me you haven’t.”

“No, no I haven’t… baby.” He tests the word, letting it linger, dragging it out as if it had been the first time he called you baby but instead of a painful reply, what he got was so much better, monumentally better - your giggle. 

“Good! I’m five minutes away. Love you, grump.” You giggled then noises that tell him you had just placed your lips onto the microphone and smacked a wet kiss upon it left his heart doing somersault. 

With a last goodbye, you hung up. Yoongi felt like the world was riding upon his shoulders,  your happiness riding on the tip of his tongues before he realized it was all just a bad dream. You were coming to him, you let him call you baby, and most important of all, you love him. Yoongi lets his body sink into the expensive chair you gifted him so many moon ago, and he thought of the little things you do.

“I know I can’t always be here with you, and I’m sure there’re time you won’t want me here cause I’ll distract you from writing lyrics SO!” You had backed away, yelling a loud “TAH DAH!” before pulling him right onto the chair. “Think of this as my replacement, it’ll hug you when you’re tired and support you when you’re too worn to stand.” The thought of a mere chair being able to replace you was honestly preposterous in Yoongi’s mind, nothing can ever be a stand in for you and your hug. Nonetheless, he was overjoyed that you understood him, understood that although sometimes he needed to be clingy, there were also time were it called upon him to be in complete silent and alone. He kissed you like he had never kissed before that day and glad when you let him hold you in his lap as he composed the rest of that day.

Soon the sound of the jingle of his electronic lock like the best music to his ears, you’re finally here. Bolting out of his chair, Yoongi runs as fast as he could and before you could even reach for the door knob, it had already swung open, a smiley boyfriend waiting at the threshold.

“God, I miss you so much.” 

His hug is like the best medicine in the world and right now you’re being treat at a 5 stars top tier hospital. Yoongi engulfs you in his body, basking you in his scent and kisses, endearing words fall nonstop from his lips.

“What’s wrong? Why am I being drown in love today?”

You question but not even one second did you stop him from expressing his undying love for you. You pull him closer, mould your lips against his and just stay in his arms for what felt like eternity before a very satisfying and content sigh left his lips. 

“Nothing, everything is just perfect.”

That curious smile still upon your lips and Yoongi knows you would eventually bring up his strange behaviors again but for now, he’s glad to see your eyes fluttering close, letting your soft cheek resting on his chest as you murmur a soft “I love you.” For now Yoongi is glad to have all the chance in the world to make you happier than you’ve ever been before.

[roidespd-blog]

Chapter Thirty : MY OWN STORY

This is the end of our journey. I could have ended it with a one-two punch Stonewall-Pride extravaganza but I’m going with a more personal coda, if you’ll indulge me.

A BOY’S OWN STORY

I haven’t always known I was Queer. I guess there were signs — how I would prefer to play with my sister’s barbies than with my own construction toys. How I could be extra sensitive with benign day-to-day details or the fact that by the age of five, I knew “Pour que tu m’aimes encore” by Céline Dion by heart. “So Alex, you’re a faggot, right ?”. That’s what a schoolmate said to me during recess. I said “No”. I was 10. I didn’t know. How did he know if I didn’t know ? Is sensitive a synonym for gay, even when you’re too young to even have pubic hair ?

I started masturbated at the age of 12 and it didn’t took long before my thoughts were directed towards the male body. I ignored it and pretended it was just my mind wandering in unexpected and irrelevant places. I would do my dirty business with La Redoute catalogues, looking at the male models in underwear then switch to their female counterparts at the very end when I knew I was close. Same thing with my imagination. Penelope Cruz was my go-to fantasy beard. I was ashamed of my sexual orientation. Worst, I was ashamed of it before I could understand it. That’s the tricky part : society doesn’t teach you how to be Queer but sure makes you aware that it’s not the norm.

I didn’t know what gay was. In movies, homosexuality was always depicted through huge clichés, what I called in my articles the “Cage aux Folles” dogma. I couldn’t identify. Or maybe I rejected the notion very quickly and swore never to approach this level of absurdity. Internalized homophobia before you even understand what internalized homophobia is.

I fell in love with my first boy when I was 14 years old. He was 2 years older, not that handsome (back then) and so unattainable. I’ve known that dude my whole life. For a long time, I said to myself that one-sided love wasn’t love. I do not believe that anymore. Feeling are valid whether they’re reciprocated or not. Of the five men I fell in love with in my life, only one didn’t love me back (and another is still TBD). But he’s the man I loved the most. The pain that followed was real and undeniable.

I didn’t act on my feelings towards boys until college. In high school, I told myself I wasn’t gonna do anything with anyone until I knew for sure what I was (laugh). I turned down a couple of great girls, one became one of my closest friend in this world. There was one incident involving a girl faking drunkenness in order to inspire pity and having her ways with me at a birthday party. I was… 15, I guess. I was not into it.

A shy boy, I socially bloomed in high school due to my involvement in drama classes and a new “fuck-the-world” attitude I cultivated through a longer hair cut and a collection of converses of every color imaginable.

The day I found out I graduated from high school, I went to town with a few friends. We (barely) drank and had our PG fun. There was this boy. I didn’t know him at all as he was a friend of a friend. I was very intrigued by him and made sure to present to him what I considered my best self (mute and mysterious, I guess). When it was time to go home, we all packed ourselves in my friend’s tiny car. There wasn’t enough space for all of us so the guy was lying on floor in the back, myself in the middle seat. I don’t know what got into me, but I started putting my fingers under his shirt and caressing his lower back. Gently, like an accident. When he didn’t react, I went further. That’s when I felt his fingers on my ankle. As I got to explore more of his back, he quickly went up my pants and caressed the entirety of my leg. So erotic, you have no idea. He was the first to go home. We didn’t exchange phone numbers but he sure helped me get IT. Once alone with my friends in the car, I said “I like boys”. That was it. The electricity I felt all around my body was unchallenging. No one was shocked. No one cared. Back to our regular scheduled programs.

HOW TO BE A GAY MAN IN FOUR LESSONS (OR MORE)

The first and only real mistake was trying to define myself through my sexuality.

My first boyfriend was… let’s call him Paul. Paul was the sweetest. A very short, very elfish (not healthy, ELFISH) little dude that tried his best to give me space in our relationship to explore myself. I said tried. I was willing to lose my virginity as a bottom but it wasn’t meant to be. I became a top. Oh, but it is a nice memory. It is so rare to be a gay man and lose one’s virginity in a good way. He introduced me to his friends who found me “too country” and “fat”. Do we have to talk to each other every day ? Are nicknames necessary ? Do I love you or do I prove constantly that I love you ? Coming from a broken father/son relationship, affection towards men wasn’t easy shit. Lust, yes (though a restrained version of what lust can be). Feelings were there but I found myself incapable of materializing them the way Paul wanted me too. I broke up with him. We got back together. He then broke up with me. Back together again. We called it quits soon after. Too many variables freaked me out. I was an 18 year-old who knew nothing, Jon Snow style.

I met a couple more guys, experimented with casual dating and hookups, bottomed (wasn’t my thing). Then I met Thomas — I’m not even going to invent a name. That bitch needs to be called out. I fell madly in love with Thomas. Five days in and we said “I love you” to each other. That relationship made me come out to my mom. I just didn’t realize that I was being manipulated into loving someone. He made an effort to be extra needy and to push my Superman complex to the max. After falling for him, he told me he visited several psychiatric facilities. He tried to hurt himself more times that I can honestly remember. By the time our relationship ended, I was more a nurse than a lover. I broke up with me after he cheated on me with someone else. But not just cheat. It went from a Friday night “I’m gonna see a friend for the weekend, it’s been a while since I saw him. It’s gonna do me some good” to a Monday morning phone call “Well, he wasn’t a friend. We slept together, now I love you both and I don’t know what to do”. I made it easy for him. By Monday night, pictures of him with the other boy was all over his Facebook page. Thomas broke me in pieces. And I’m not even gonna talk about me going to the police for harassment months later. Triste vie.

That’s when I became a whore.

Not immediately. It took a few weeks of crying to go in that direction but then I was full on. I quickly moved to another city and for the next three years or so, I slept with everything with a dick that moved. Short guys, tall guys, fat ones, skinny ones, effeminate dudes, masculine cunts, three ways, public, top, bottom, ALL. OF. IT. I was unable to feel anything for those guys (some were great and deserved a lot more) but damn, did I fuck them. All of them.

I learned a lot from that time period. First, I can be great at certain sexual things. Won’t tell you which ones. Second, it gave a lot of satisfaction mixed with a sense of true emptiness. I ignored the emptiness back then but I knew why I felt satisfaction. It wasn’t the orgasms. It was a feeling that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do AKA being a gay guy having lots of sex. I saw it on TV. I saw it in porn. I knew it to be true. I was being the right kind of gay. 22 and still stupid enough to believe it.

When I moved to Paris, I fell in love twice. First with the city. Second with Pierre. In a way, he was the best of them all. Unfortunately, we met at the wrong time. Remember, I was a whore. Not that I cheated on him per say, but the need was there. Paris was giving me so much more land to cover. I met friends that partied hard. I started taking drugs. Lots of them. Festivities would last three days in a row. Sometimes four times a week. I lost 25 pounds just by being poor and high. Meanwhile, I was living a fantastic relationship with a somewhat adult man. I moved in with him for a couple of months. He was a painter and being with me helped him find inspirations. He bought me a note book and pushed me to start writing again, encouraged me to reach my full potential. But fuck my life, I had to make a choice : domesticity with this great guy (who had already been through what I was going through) or FPD (Friends/Party/Drugs). I broke his heart and entered a downward spiral. I went back to my whoring ways. I went all races, all ages, all sizes, just… all. I even was in a weird throuple for a few weeks. Drugs were taking a toll on my health and my friends weren’t supporting me the way I needed too. Six months after the break up, I reserved course. I cleaned my act, found a new job, moved into a new apartment by myself, cleared my phone from those friends’ numbers. This part of my life taught me two lessons : That I could be loved and valued for exactly who I was and that I could throw in all away for the sake of living that sweet Parisian Gay Life.

I met Jack at a time when my life was going really really well. I had been accepted at film school, I was making new friends from work, I had a perfectly stable life and newly-found good spirit. I do believe I inadvertently seduced him by singing Taylor Swift’s Blank Space at a party. I fell hard for that man. I viewed him as the perfect specimen, the epicenter of everyone I went through in the past seven years. I willingly gave him everything : a place to stay when he was looking for a new apartment, my time, my heart, my soul. I wasn’t able to keep anything for myself. It was all for him. Although I knew from the start that I was getting fucked, I didn’t care. He never loved me. Why ? That’s for another story and perhaps for him to tell you. He didn’t leave me heartbroken. He left me destroyed. To a point where I didn’t recognize myself. I’ll say it again : D.E.S.T.R.O.Y.E.D. That’s what happens when you give so much and receive so little in return. My friends had to pick up the pieces and didn’t know what to do with them. Neither did I. I went back to whoring for a short time but this time, it got dark, y’all. I fucked the wrong people. I put myself in the wrong situations. I took the wrong drugs. I kept on wrecking what was left of me.

LIFE IMITATES ART, ART IMITATES OTHER ART, ART IS ART, LIFE GOES WITH WITH FLOW.

For the following two years, all of that cured me of love and sex. I didn’t/couldn’t want either. I focused on my work.

I started writing and directing short films that talked about love between two men (a musical fantasy), how one can destroy oneself by not accepting who one is (a one-shot suicidal fantasy) and finally, a 16-minute movie about trying to figure out your place in the Queer world (my masterpiece, easy to say, right?).

In retrospect, what I couldn’t do in real life anymore (exploring and answering questions), I did it in fiction. In Faggot (and Other Semantics),there are themes of homophobia, internalized homophobia, clichés, dating apps, sex, violence and identity. I’m not saying it’s the greatest movie of all time, but it’s good. That’s why it’s so heartbreaking that I still haven’t finished it.

I used the excuse that I didn’t have enough money. Well, no I have some money put aside thanks to my friends. I though to myself that I was just lazy but fuck, I proved to myself this past month I wasn’t. So, I’m scared to finish it. Not just having to move on artistically (though it is a big part of the fear) but also, It’s kind of the end of a journey. Well, a big chapter anyway. The movie was made when I was the most wrecked version of myself. I touched subjects that are so personal to me and felt like I finally got some answers out of my questions. Finally…well, I don’t know. I went back to thinking I’m a lazy cunt.

Since then (two years), I did something every Queer person should do : I’ve explored our History. I started making research for Faggot back in 2016. I bought a couple of books, mainly “Faggots” written by Larry Kramer and “Le Rose et Le Noir” written by Frédéric Martel. The truth is, we don’t know our History. How can we ? History tried to erase us time and time again. And when real tragedy stroke, people who couldn’t have shared this History were let to die. Unlike all of the other communities, Queer people are not born into a Queer environment. Humans from all races and backgrounds are raised and can receive heritage from their peers. Some of that heritage are in books you get to read in school. What History book talks about Stonewall ? None. We, as Queer people, are cursed with the task of reinventing ourselves generation after generation. Is it so surprising then that we keep on losing ourselves along the way, trying to figure out our identity ? I had to go and search for information, nothing was giving to me openly. I’m so glad I did.

Learning our past taught me so much about how to live my present. That’s why I started to write these articles this June. I wanted to give my fellow Queers a metaphorical anchor to throw into this ocean we call Life so that they can take a closer look at the world that came before, the one that is being built right now and perhaps, what’s to come. It’s a small gift. The best I can do with my restricted reach but here we are.

Today, I told you about my own story. I came back to it with all that baggage from years of research into my Queer Heritage. I see things a bit more clearly now. In the hopes that maybe, if you deem it necessary, you will be able to do the same.

I’m signing off. Yours Truly,

The Queer King.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 9- Changes

Summary: Getting poisoned didn’t feel very nice, but alas the world moves on, and it needs the Umbrella Academy to find the source of its demise.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

You wake up with a jolt, memories from last night flooding into your mind, the wind, screaming, and the blood. Allison and Vanya, and that psychotic prick who stabbed you with a poisoned Swiss Army knife, evidently leading you to a gruesome couple hours of living through a half-death.

You look around the room, studying your surroundings as you lay on your back. You’re in your old bedroom in the Academy. Well that’s good, they got you here safe and sound. You sit yourself up into a seated position, leaning yourself against the headboard. You look down at yourself, sighing in relief as you realize that your clothing has been changed. You push the covers off of you, swinging your feet over the edge of the bed, you look down and notice your boots are nicely set out, patiently waiting for you. As well as your hooded denim jacket that’s hanging off of a nearby lounge chair. You stand up, grabbing your boots and pulling them on, while you hold onto the lounge chair. When you’re finished you hear the familiar footsteps of Diego creaking down the hallway towards your room.

You swiftly open the door just as he’s reaching for the handle, “I’m gonna assume you changed my clothes, so thanks for that.” You tell him quickly, as you hold the door open for him to step inside. “You have no idea how worried I was when you wouldn’t respond to anything we did. You just looked dead, but you were still breathing....uh...Klaus had to calm me down.” He rambles on, as you touch his arm to comfort him. “Leonard Peabody stabbed me with a poisoned knife as him and Vanya were leaving. I didn’t see it coming....He knows more about us then I realized, sick bastard new my weakness.” You growl, angry that you were blindsided by his gutsy yet calculated attack. It was honestly ballsy of him to just stand there so confidently like that. Of course he would, he knew what he was doing.

“Jesus, that’s horrible. It made me sick to see you in such a vulnerable state like that. You looked like you were in so much pain....Pogo said you had some type of venom or deadly poison running through your veins...and we’d have to wait it out.” He tells you, his voice on he verge of breaking, Diego’s a lot more shaken up then you’d first realized. “D, I’m right here. Safe and poison free.” You smile up at him, tugging at his sweater collar as you give him a sweet kiss on his plush lips. He instantly relaxes into your touch, wrapping his good arm around your waist and pulling you in closer. This intimate moment is fully needed and deeply appreciated, you’ve missed Diego even if you both haven’t seen each other for only a single day. You slowly pull away, another question surging through your mind.

“Uh, how are you not behind bars right now. I mean, last we saw each other cops were pulling guns on you?” You ask him curiously, he gives you another kiss in response.

“A friend of mine let me out, he knows I didn’t kill Patch. He’s still working on finding more evidence....but until then we have work to do.” You take in a deep breath, laying your head on his shoulder.

“Never a moment to rest, huh.....alright fine, let’s go downstairs.” You tell him, looking back up at him, his eyes flick down to your lips for a quick moment. You smile at how adorable he’s being without even realizing it, he smiles back unsure of what’s causing your joy.

“I like your shirt today, it’s really bursting with the autumn colors.” He chuckles at your teasing comment, giving you another pleasurable kiss. He happens to be wearing his black and blue sweater that you bought him for his birthday. That’s the legitimate most color you’ve seen on him in months, even though most of your clothing is considerably darker too, you still flash in a bit of color here and there.

“Come on, Five’s waiting in the main living room for us, he’s got a new game plan.” Diego tells you, still holding onto your waist. You take his arm wrapped around your waist and pull him away from you, he frowns until you bring him in for another heated embrace, before pulling away and squeezing his bum as you hastily walk out the door.

——

“The bastard that nearly killed Y/N and Allison is still out there, with Vanya. We need to go after her.” Explains Diego as Five paces back and forth in front of him, you, and Klaus. You’re sitting on the couch opposite of Klaus, the both of you listening intently to the plans.

“Vanya is not important” Grumbles Five, wanting to only focus on finding Harold Jenkins.

“Hey, that’s your sister. A little heartless even for you, Five.” Jabs Diego, actually sticking up for Vanya for once.

“I’m not saying I don’t care about her, but if the apocalypse happens today, she goes along with the other seven billion of us. Harold Jenkins is our first priority.” Replies Five, needing everyone to understand what’s really important. Diego looks away for a second to think, “I agree. Let’s go.” He answers with, making up his mind about what needs done first. You agree with the two of them.

“You guys count me out. I mean, you know, no offense or whatever. It’s just...I kinda feel like this is a whole lot of pressure for newly-sober me, so...” Klaus trails off, waving his hand in the air.

You get off the couch, standing in between Diego and Five, “Get your ass up, your coming with us.” You tell him bluntly, stating it as an order rather then a suggestion.

 “No, no, no. I mean, I think we can all agree that my power’s...I mean, it’s pretty much useless. I’d just be holding you guys back.” He whines, really not wanting to budge.

“Klaus get up.” Demands Five dryly. Klaus frowns giving Five a bit of sass.

“You can’t make me.” A second later Diego throws a knife at him, landing it perfectly into the couch, right in between his open legs. Taking the not so subtle hint, Klaus begrudgingly gets up, “Oh, then again, a little exercise couldn’t hurt.”

——

Five pulls up to Harold Jenkins house, the same one that you, Allison, Diego, and Five broke into just the other day. You all get out of the car, making your way to the front door, you stop on the sidewalk catching a nasty whiff of something or someone that’s recently deceased. Oh shit. The others walk past you oblivious, you shake your head and continue forward. The door’s unlocked so its easy access, then when all of you walk into the house, you see him. Harold Jenkins himself, laying dead on the floor, with a hefty multitude of random kitchen knives piercing his torso.

“Gross.” You mutter, walking in closer as you cover your sensitive nose with your arm.

“It’s not exactly what I was expecting.” Says Diego, staring down in shock at the bloodied up dead guy in front of him.

“The understatement of the year.” Quips Five. “No sign of Vanya.” Adds Klaus, yeah, where is she?

“Let’s get out of here before I vomit or the cops show up.” You mumble, covering your nose with your shirt now, turning to leave, Diego and Klaus following.

“In a minute.” Says Five as he walks over to the dead body, taking off the eye-patch as he unwraps the glass eye he’s kept with him for a long time. “Come on, Five, what are you..” Starts Diego who goes to cover his mouth. 

“That’s not...very sanitary.” You add as Five touches the bloody face.

“Same eye color, same pupil size. Guys this is it. The eye I’ve been carrying around for decades, it...It’s found its rightful home.” He says in awe, taking out the glass eye.

“We got the guy we needed to kill to stop the apocalypse.” States Diego, half saying that as a question, not quit believing that this is it. “Yay! Let’s go.” Claps Klaus who turns to leave, Diego grabbing his green army vest to stop him from exiting the house. “No way, it can’t be that easy.” You tell Five, he stands up pulling out a piece of paper, “Look, this is the only note that I got from the Commission. The one that says -Protect Harold Jenkins- aka Leonard Peabody. But who killed him? Who did this?” Wonders Five.

“I have an idea...how about we ask Vanya..” Klaus begins as Five teleports away. Shit you were about to explain something very important to them. “I know who did this.” You interrupt Klaus, him and Diego’s attention snapping over to you.

“This is gonna sound wild, but trust me okay? Vanya has powers, she’s always had them....No one ever knew...because Reginald gave her those pills and had four year old Allison rumor her into forgetting. She’s wicked powerful too, and probably terrified.” You explain to them, their faces a mix of confusion, curiosity, and slight apprehension.

“What? Are you serious?” Diego asks you, you give him a small nod.

“She can throw things without touching them and she can make it windy when she’s upset, I don’t know what else, but she probably really needs our help right now. So let’s get out of here.” You urge, not a hint of a doubt in your voice, Klaus nods, believing you. Diego still looks a little unconvinced, “Trust me Diego, I saw everything. I have no reason to lie.” He looks up at you in understanding, deciding that even though he hasn’t seen anything yet, he trusts in your word.

——

“No sign of Vanya.” Says Five to you and Diego as the three of you walk side-by-side on the upstairs balcony, heading for the wooden staircase to get to the first floor. All of you have been searching around the Academy for a missing Vanya, but with no luck. “She’s not in any of the rooms.” Adds Diego, as Klaus comes into view. “She’s not downstairs either.” He tells the three of you. Not that you needed to be told she wasn’t in the Academy at all, if she was here you’d be able to smell her, but the boys went about to look anyways.

“Well, I’m out. Diego you coming?” You walk past the three of them, headed for the stairs.

“Wait where are you guys going?” Wonders Five and Klaus.

You turn back around, one hand still on the railing, “As long as Hazel and Cha-Cha are still breathing, I’m not gonna stop hunting them.” You explain to them truthfully, they look at you at a loss for words, but none of them make an attempt to stop you. “Y/N, I’ll be down, I gotta get some of my things first.” Diego tells you, turning down the other hallway. You nod, giving Five and Klaus a quick glance as you continue down the stairwell.

Deciding that you’d like to have a tiny shot of something strong first to help awaken your senses...well...possibly...eh who are you kidding you just need a drink. You maintain walking through the living room doorway, heading straight for the bar. You find a shot glass and something strong that will help satisfy your taste. As you’re preparing your drink, you eavesdrop on Five and Klaus’ argument in the front room, the conversation focused on how Five has an addiction to the apocalypse, he then smashes his glass eye against the nearby wall. Grumbling something else to Klaus before he briskly struts his was into the main living room and right up to the bar. You smirk at him, “Trouble in paradise?” He glares up at you as he sits on a barstool angrily, “You wouldn’t happen to know how to make a good margarita, now would you?” He wonders, honestly hoping you won’t disappoint. You take a quick shot, downing the tiny glass in one clean motion, enjoying the scratchy buzz of the cold liquid sliding down your throat. You set it down with a loud clank, “Yeah, I could do that.” He nods, giving you a tight lipped smile, as he goes to say something to Dolores who’s perched on the bar to Five’s right. You get the ingredients out, shoving ice into the blender and pouring in the important stuff.

Once finished, you grab three glasses. One for Five, you, and Dolores. Pouring out the cold neon green slushy, you grab a twisty straw and a tiny umbrella. Touching up the best margarita you’ve ever made, “It’s on the house.” You wink at him, sliding the glass over the counter with ease. He gladly accepts, sucking down the liquid as soon as it’s in his grasp. The both of you sit in a comfortable silence, each enjoying your own margarita.

“Y/N, do you think we really did it? Think we actually stopped the apocalypse?” He suddenly wonders out loud, you set your glass down, leaning yourself against the other side of the bar to better face him. “Hard to say. In my experience you should always be alert for anything. But I don’t know....something just doesn’t sit well with me yet. I can’t explain it.” You tell him, he furrows his brows thinking hard about what you just said. In all honesty, Five’s always considered you to be the most competent and level headed out of everyone. Although he may have only of known you for two years before he timetraveled. You did make a lasting impression, one that you’ve never realized. But then again, when does Five ever truly express any of his more deeper feelings?

Out of nowhere a random knock is heard at the door, both you and Five make knowing eye contact. “Eh, I’ll get it.” He turns around getting off the barstool, heading for the front door with a margarita still in hand. You can hear him open it, then someone speaks, who’s definitely not Vanya. Their conversation is so casual and unbothered, but who is he talking to?

Five walks peacefully into the living room, as Hazel follows behind him. You unclasp a hidden pistol from underneath the bars counter-top. Cocking it, and raising it up to shoot in one swift calculated motion.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hiss at him, he quickly raises his hands into the air, gun still in his left hand, but not pointed towards anyone.

“Please. Just give me a couple minutes to explain some things. It’s important.” He says calmly, not wanting to get shot.

“Drop the gun. Then we’ll talk like adults.” You tell him, your tone still hostile. He nods, dropping the gun onto the floor, and kicking it over to Five. Who’s just casually sipping his margarita from the barstool, watching the whole interaction.

“So, you’re here to kill me?” Nonchalantly asks Five.

“Well, I can understand why you might feel that way, you know” Hazel mutters, standing there weaponless and slightly awkward.

“Well you attacked our house, tried to kill my family, and kidnapped my brother.” Says Five, you quickly cut in. “Not to mention that you stabbed me with an antique metal boat. And you killed Patch, the detective who was looking for Klaus...she never hurt anyone that didn’t deserve it.” You snap at him, your gun still raised. He looks down with a sigh.

“Cha-Cha was the one that killed her, I was just gonna knock her out....to give us enough time to leave. Sorry about your friend.” Your eyebrows furrow, Hazels voice surprisingly holds no lies, you stay unswayed still angry about it. But now you have a clearer idea of who’s on your hit list now, it’s just Cha-Cha. You know Hazel’s not a good person, but you can read people very well, and he just looks so tired of everything, he lacks that coldness that most true killers have. Deciding he’s harmless for now, you lower your gun, keeping one arm on the counter as you bring the gun down to your side.

“Well, there’s not much I can do about the past. I’m not the only killer in this room. You two got your own bloody histories. Speaking of which, that job you did in Calhoun, Five, that shits legendary.” He tells the two of you sincerely, looking up to you as he continues, “Y/N, when you busted that sex trafficking ring in Madrid, killing all the guards and leaving the main pimp alive for the feds. Granted, you blinded him in one eye and shattered his right arm beyond repair. But still...impressive.” You think about that moment briefly, it was more of a ruined vacation to say the least. “I can’t believe I’m actually in the same room as the two of you, after all..” Five looks up from his drink, half annoyed and half curious.

“Hazel why are you here?” Hazel stops for a second to speak, “Well I..” Suddenly he’s cut off when Diego appears out of nowhere, kicking him hard from behind. “Diego, stop!” Shouts Five, “You know, before you kill him, you might wanna hear what he has to say.”

Diego completely ignores him, you’re not even sure if he saw you behind the bar. Completely over taken by his own sense of tunnel vision when it comes to fighting bad guys. He tumbles around with Hazel, getting a punch in here and there, stepping back to pull out a knife, “I’m gonna kill you for what you did to Patch.” He growls, throwing his arm out, slicing where Hazel just was. Thankfully Hazel’s a trained assassin, so he’s able to dodge Diego’s blows. That is until Diego stabs him right in his thick left thigh, you and Five grimace, yeah that looked painful. The two of them duke it out for another couple seconds before Hazel aggressively bear hugs Diego, holding his arms down while lifting him up. Diego does not like this in the slightest, and a moment later he bites into Hazel’s ear. Five finally gets off the stool, grabbing an empty tequila bottle, teleporting behind Diego, and hitting him over the head with the glass. Diego gets knocked out instantly, Hazel letting him go, as he falls unconsciously to the floor. “I draw the line at biting. Hazel, whatever you came here to say, I suggest you make it quick, before he comes round.” Says Five, walking back over to his drink.

“I left my partner, quit the Commission, came to volunteer.” Says Hazel quickly, straight and to the point.

“For what?” You ask him puzzled, not 100% convinced that now he’s all gun-ho and ready to stop killing people. “To help stop the apocalypse.” Five starts to chuckle, Hazel’s face falling in confusion. 

“What on earth could be so funny to you right now?” Five then goes on to explain things about how the apocalypse is over and how we found that random guy who supposedly causes it. They then converse about what life could have been like for Five if he never got caught up with the Handler and the Commission or if he never even timetraveled at all. Hazel says his farewells and even gives you the weapon that killed Patch, so Diego’s name can rightfully be cleared. You don’t stop him when he finally leaves, you’ve figured enough blood has been spilled this week already, and you’d rather not add any new stains onto the Academy’s carpet.

——

When Diego finally comes round, you and Five are sitting on the barstools watching him wake up. “Good, you’re up. Ready for a drink now?” Says Five as casually as ever, Diego suddenly jumps to his feet, looking around for a missing Hazel. “Where is he?”

“We let him go.” You tell him, Diego’s eyes shoot open in astonishment, he was so close to avenging Patch. “You what?”

“Now that the apocalypse is over, it’s time for the fighting to stop.” Reasons Five, Diego’s face turns into a scowl, as he leans down to pick up his dropped knife off of the floor. “He didn’t kill Patch. Cha-Cha did.” You try getting through to him, but he seems to not care.

“So what? They were both there that night.” He snaps, you raise an eyebrow at his moodiness and abrupt change in tone.

 “So? He happened to give us...both of their guns. Which will clear you, because the ballistics will match Eudora’s crime scene.” You tell him as he thinks about the information. “Hazel came looking for a way out. He wanted a fresh start. And he happened to have in his possession the one thing that could do our family a little good. So it’s time to move on.” Five says, adding more to what you’ve already said in hopes Diego will listen.

“Not a chance.” He answers with, you let out a sigh at his stubbornness. Five gets up, walking over to Dolores to pick her up so he can leave, not wanting to try and argue with Diego about his refusal to stop hunting both of them. “Suit yourself.” He adds, turning to walk out of the room, you watch as he goes knowing that you’re gonna have to be the one to talk some sense into Diego.

“I’m done hunting Hazel. He’s far from innocent, I’ll say that much. But...he’s not worth my anger anymore....I’ll kill Cha-Cha, and then I’ll sleep better at night knowing she can’t hurt anyone else anymore...and the bitch got what she deserved.” You truthfully tell him, hoping that he’ll take your side and understand your meaning. You look over to him, he frowns hanging his head down.

“I can’t, she was my friend.” He whispers honestly, avoiding your disappointed gaze.

“And she was mine. I doubt Patch would have wanted you to kill a faultless man. He didn’t kill her, Diego.” He looks up at your sincere gaze, he knows you’re right, but it’s just so difficult for him to accept that. You study his face, and in all honesty you’re not 100% certain in what he might say next, so you give him a hard decision that will feasibly sway his mindset.

“If you try and kill Hazel....I’ll stop you.” You pause for a moment to look at his conflicted face, he looks away from you. “You know I can stop you if I really wanted to. You’re not an idiot to how dangerous I can be...so don’t be an idiot.” You’re voice is almost harsh with the small threat you’ve just made, Diego hasn’t felt this nervous around you since he was a teenager. He looks back up to you, letting out a shaky breath, he puts his dagger back into its holster.

“Fine. You’re more important to me than killing Hazel....I can live with that.” He finally says, catching the big relief in your eyes. You give him a small smile, “Good, I really didn’t wanna have to break your arm.” His eyes go wide at your statement, “Oh calm down, I wouldn’t touch your face, I gotta keep you lookin pretty.” He rolls his eyes at that, revealing the smallest of hidden smiles.

——

You’re lounging on your bed, absentmindedly throwing a small bouncy ball against your wall over and over again. When Allison walks into your room, she gives you a tired smile, but you can see past that, noticing the deep worry that seeps out. You catch the ball without looking, standing up and setting it down on your bed. “Glad to see you’re alive and well. I don’t know where anyone else is right now if you’re trying to find Luther.” You tell her, she shakes her head, giving her notepad into your hand. Follow me. He has Vanya. Is what the note reads, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but wanting to know more you nod ready to help in anyway you can.

She leads you down the hallway and down many flights of stairs, and then finally into an elevator before you both are standing at the end of a creepy metal hallway. You’ve never seen this part of the Academy before, but you have a terrible idea as to why that might be. She continues forward as you hear the agitated voices of Klaus, Diego, and Luther. As well as someone faintly pounding on glass. What is going on?

When you reach the end of the hallway, Allison stops, your eyes find the three boys heatedly yelling about Vanya. Then you finally see her, she looks terrified and is almost in tears as she silently screams, pounding her hands against the glass opening in the metal door. Luther turns around, immediately noticing the two of you. Who are staring on in shock and rising anger. “Y/N. Allison, what are you two doing down here? Allison you should be in bed.” Says Luther, more concerned for Allison then Vanya, who’s fucking imprisoned in a soundproof metal cage. Allison begins to furiously scribble down some words on her notepad. Let her go, it reads. Luther shakes his head, “I can’t do that. She hurt you.”

Allison scribbles more down, holding it up for them to see when she’s done. My Fault. Luther won’t be moved, “I’m sorry but she’s staying put.” Allison shakes her head, walking over to get Vanya out, Luther puts his large arm out to stop her. “Just until we know what we’re dealing with.” She goes to walk around him as Diego and Klaus walk over to you by the doorway, but he stands unmoving, she steps back in frustration, “She stays put.” Says Luther, giving the final word. Allison’s face makes an angry but pained expression as she pushes his chest twice, letting out her frustration physically, knowing whatever hits she deals on Luther, won’t hurt him in the slightest. He doesn’t even budge, even when she makes an attempt at throwing weak punches into his arm that’s currently holding her back. “Come on. You need to rest.” He tells her, Allison doesn’t want to listen but she’s getting tired and knows she won’t be able to get past Luther. Diego and Klaus don’t even make an effort to try and fight him either, it’s not worth it.

You stand defiantly in the doorway as Klaus walks past you, Diego tugs gently on your arm, silently asking you to go with him, knowing that fighting with Luther will only make things worse. “We can’t just fucking leave her down here.” You snap at Luther, and a bit at the others. You brush Diego’s hand off of you as you walk up to Luther and Allison. “I’m not leaving without Vanya. So get out of my way.” You growl at him through clenched teeth, seething with anger at what he’s done. How dare he leave Vanya down here all alone, like a caged animal. You won’t stand for it.

Luther let’s out a discouraged sigh, really dreading a fight with you, the legitimate only person who could kick his ass and definitely hurt him. If you truly wanted to, and right now you do, very badly. “We don’t need to do this.” He pleads, fearing what he might have to do next.

“It wasn’t a suggestion. Move.” You hiss, he nudges Allison to get out of the way. She gives you a sad look as she walks past you, standing next to Diego and Klaus who came back to see what’s going on. “I know what it feels like to get a broken leg. It doesn’t feel very nice. So I advise that you step aside, before I make an example out of you.” He takes a step forward, staring dangerously down at your unflinching form. Taking this as your answer, you punch him in the stomach as you kick his right leg out from under him. He swiftly falls to the floor, catching himself on his hands and knees with a pained grunt. As you go to walk around him, he throws his right arm up, stabbing you with something tiny but cold. The fuck? As an answer you kick him in the face, he falls back a couple feet, landing near Allison and Diego who are watching this in shock. Not knowing how to handle the two of you.

You turn back around to look at Vanya, she’s looking at something on the ground next to your boots with a scared face. You follow her gaze to see a lone surgeons needle, empty on the cold floor by your feet. And then it hits you, Luther fucking drugged you, he knew you’d fight back. And he’s smart enough to know that you’d win, so he drugged you, preventing you from being able to help Vanya for awhile. Fucking bastard. The effects take hold of you quickly as your vision begins to go spotty, you suddenly feel numb all over and extremely tired. Shit what did he put in the needle. You look over at him, falling to the floor, as you land hard on your hands and knees. The room seems to sway as you sit down, your arms sliding out from under you. As you fall sideways onto the hard cement floor, Diego races over to you as Luther stands up, wiping a trail of blood from his nose.

“Fuck you.” Is the only thing you have time to rasp out, your world falling away into darkness, as Diego tells you something that you can’t even hear anymore.

——

A loud thunderous smashing sound of metal on metal vibrates violently throughout the Academy. Rousing you from your slumber, you suck in a deep breath, sitting up instantly from your spot on the couch. Your cloudy mind is trying to pick up the pieces of what happened before you got drugged. Oh, that’s right, Luther drugged you so you wouldn’t release Vanya from her steel confinement. But, onto the current problem of the hour, that sound came from below the house. Swallowing hard, you know exactly who’s the cause of this monstrous racket....Vanya.

[marbresauvage]

Bras de Fer // Grantaire & Enjolras

tl;dr: These two are too competitive and constantly underestimate each other. Oops?

With: @la-vie-dure

Enjolras entered the apartment with a large chair in tow, specifically being towed by his arms as he opened the door and held it there with his French derriere. He did not, however, drag the chair, due to being vexed by the disgusting screeching noise of chair legs on flooring, and instead he found himself hefting it a few inches above the ground as he hauled the seating implement into the confines of l'appartement de Bahorel et Enjolras. He did not look around, his attention upon the quarry in his grip.

Grantaire had been in the apartment, as he did rather often nowadays, waiting for either Bahorel or Enjolras to come home. Apollo was curled up, asleep for once, on the floor next to the couch when Grantaire heard the door open. Seeing Enjolras come in with the bulky chair, he immediately got up and walked over to the blonde. " ​ Salut. Why didn't you let me know you were going to carry something in here? Let me take it from here. ​ " Grantaire said as he moved to take the chair from the other.

Enjolras noted the dog and prepared himself for the inevitable sneezing that would occur, but put those thoughts from his mind as he nodded in greeting at Grantaire, generally unfazed by his presence here. ​"No, I can carry it. I do have functional arms, after all."​ There was no malice to the statement, just a simple purposeful kind of manner about it as he continued to carry the chair.

Grantaire raised his eyebrow at Enjolras. "​I do not doubt that you have funcional arms but I do believe that I can be of assistance and take it from here. I would not want you to be in pain later on and regret carrying it all by yourself.​" He insisted, his hands moving to properly grip the chair but not quite taking it out of Enjolras' hands.

Enjolras 's brow furrowed. He did not relinquish the chair, turning his gaze upon Grantaire, meeting his eyes with a stubborn passion. For carrying chairs. ​"I am more than capable of carrying this chair, Grantaire. It is not heavy."​

Grantaire let out a small huff which was more like a sigh. "​You should not be carrying this, Enjolras. I know how stubborn you can get. You do not need to carry this, I can perfectly take it for you.​" His hands stayed on the chair as he glanced back at the blonde, just as stubborn as the other.

Enjolras 's eyes flickered in realisation. It was not that Grantaire wanted to carry the chair. It was that he did not think him, Enjolras, capable of doing so. His eyes narrowed. ​"You realise I've carried this all the way from the shop, of course. It is not heavy, and I am perfectly capable of carrying it."

Grantaire resisted to roll his eyes. "​Which is also something you should not have done. If you would have told me that you were going to get this, I would have come with you and carried it for you. You are only going to end up hurting yourself.​" He could only imagine how Enjolras had dragged the chair from the store to the apartment and while the chair was almost where it was supposed to be, Grantaire at least wanted to take the weight from him for that short distance. "​Please, let me take it from here.​"

Enjolras 's eyes narrowed even further, and without breaking eye contact with Grantaire, he set the chair down, very deliberately, upon the man's foot. ​"You insult me."

Grantaire winced when he felt the chair on his foot and lifted it up again so that he could remove his foot. "​Was that ​really​ necessary?​" He grumbled. "​I did not mean to insult you. I merely offered my help so that you would not end up in pain.​" With that, he sent a challenging look at the blonde. "​We would not want your delicate arms to be useless for a while because you lifted the chair wrong.​"

Enjolras glared/stared at Grantaire for a long second. He stared/glared some more. Then he stepped around the chair, and he gripped Grantaire's arm, and he very deliberately strode towards the coffee table, whereupon he pointed at the ground and he said, with no small measure of authority, ​"Sit."

Grantaire blinked as he let himself be dragged along and without hesitation, he sat down on the floor, vaguely wondering if this was the moment that Grantaire had accidentally gone too far and that Enjolras was going to tell him to stop any form of contact with him. With slight confusion and an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he looked up at the other, waiting for what was to come.

Enjolras crossed to the other side of the coffee table, and sat upon the floor facing Grantaire, divesting himself of his hoodie to leave a shirt, whereupon he cracked his knuckles and met Grantaire's gaze once more, setting his right elbow upon the table, hand held high with his other fisted behind his back. ​"You think I am weak. Very well, then. If you truly are so much stronger than I am, then it should be easy for you to pin my wrist to the table. Have you wristwrestled before?"

Grantaire just stared at Enjolras for a short moment before a small smirk curled up his lips. "​Indeed, I have. Are you sure you want to do this? I do not want this to end with you feeling disappointed because I am going to win this.​" He rolled up his sleeves and set his own right elbow in position, his hand curling into Enjolras'. "​Whenever you are ready.​"

Enjolras 's eyes narrowed even further at Grantaire's words. ​"A strong sentiment. It's too bad you're going to lose."​ He curled his own hand into Grantaire's and ignored how easily they fit together. Then he nodded.

Grantaire waited for the nod and started pushing against Enjolras' hand, not even using half of the strength he possessed. He wanted to test just how much strength he would have to use to win without making it seem like it had been too easy to beat the blonde.

Enjolras also began to push, also not even using half of his strength, and furrowed his brows, though he had no qualms against using more strength than entirely necessary to annihilate the brunette, and soon pushed harder.

Grantaire raised his eyebrow as he felt Enjolras push harder and he himself started to hold against it, using more of his own strength, slowly starting to honestly try and tip Enjolras' hand over.

Enjolras 's jaw clenched as he felt the pressure of Grantaire against him. He persevered, however, and, reaffirmed his grip, holding fast and pushing back.

Grantaire grunted quietly, not having expected as much force to come from the other. His own grip tightened and he could feel small droplets of sweat form in the beginning of his hairline.

Enjolras bit at his lip, a bead of sweat forming at his temple as he pressed into Grantaire. Nothing was giving.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, muttering quietly under his breath when nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras scowled as nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute passed.

Grantaire kept pressing against Enjolras, nothing moved. A minute passed.

Enjolras kept pressing against Grantaire, nothing gave. A minute would have passed, but Gavroche bounced onto the table, winding around their arms with no shame, and Enjolras nudged at the cat in an attempt to get him to move.

Grantaire glanced at the cat and just as he was about to help Enjolras to get him to move, Apollo had awoken from the turmoil caused by the cat and bounced after the feline. He stumbled over his own paws and climbed up on Grantaire's lap as he tried to get to the cat.

Enjolras sneezed violently, the force forcing him to let go amid the chaos as Gavroche yowled and clambered onto his shoulders.

Grantaire held onto Apollo with his arms now and tried to calm the playful, wiggling dog down.

Enjolras sneezed several times in a row, his eyes streaming, so he stood up, wrapping his arms around Gavroche and walking away.