#but we found some very Suspiciously Green Objects this week

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

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[era-the-witchy-birdkid]

There is a Ghost in the Schoolhouse

Ayumi has long since guessed they was something weird going on with Conan. At first she just thought he was shy and he was cute, so she pulled him into her friend group. His face when they pulled into the group was both a little embarrassed and oh so fragile. It had made her so sad that he felt so much hope at a single offer of friendship.

Conan was so very hesitant at first when the friendship was so very new, often purposely dumbing himself down and stumbling both verbally and physically over simple things. It took a lot of gentle coaxing from all of them for the real Conan to shine though the nervousness, And it was so worth it.

Conan blossomed like a flower and stopped hiding his smarts quite as much and just seemed to settle into himself. He smiled more, real smiles she means, not those awkward fake ones he paints on his face when his is trying to hide his feelings. She has no idea why most adults and a good number of the other kids are so blind to the fakeness to most of Conan’s grins.

Then she and the others started to notice the other things about Conan. How he always seems to flicker in and out of existence whenever there’s a loud noise of some sort. How sometimes gravity doesn't have nearly as much as a hold on him as it does everyone else. How his eyes glow green when his emotions run wild with anger, like whenever there is a murder.

How he is also just naturally extremely strong and fast, superhumanly so really. This he purposely hides with the Professor’s Power Kick Shoes, but Mitsuhiko-kun keeps track of these instances and the numbers just don’t line up. Especially because the shoes should only effect Conan’s legs and so don’t explain the number of times he broke things or left marks in stuff he shouldn’t be able to leave marks in with his own hands.

Really with all the evidence everywhere, there’s no way Conan could have hidden his superpowers from all of them forever. Genta-kun wanted to confront Conan right away, thankfully Mitsuhiko-kun and I managed to get though Genta’s hurt to point out that Conan-kun likely keeps his powers a secret for a reason, just like in Kamen Yaiba. Plus the friendship was still so new for both sides as at the time Conan had only been around for two weeks.

Those two weeks were more then enough time to understand how Conan thinks though, and all three of us agree to gather evidence in secret, and help play distraction whenever we notice Conan’s accidental power usage to help hide the secret.

We found a rhythm really quickly with Genta-kun and I playing distraction while Mitsuhiko-kun gathering the evidence more often then not. I wasn’t easy though as beside the few times Conan gets mad enough to briefly lose control and leave hand marks in random objects and the occasional tree, his powers leave no permanent signs of having been used. 

We just have to learn to be good with timing and use the hidden camera we managed to get Professor Agasa to make for us. Its a bit awkward to use given its a headband so the controls are hard to reach quickly and it doesn’t help the only one of us that regularly wears one is me.

We managed to record a lot of examples though in the last month and a half. I think Conan is a little suspicious of us though, he’s being more observant than usual and that’s saying something when he is already more observant then most police officers. Though Mitsuhiko-kun points out he seems to be more observant all around so it might not have anything to do with us.

My personal favorite proof is the recording we got of Conan sneezing himself several feet in the air. His embarrassed blush on his face when he goes back to the ground again is really funny. Mitsuhiko-kun likes the nice shot we got of Conan’s eyes glowing. Genta-kun hasn’t told us his favorite yet. I personally think he doesn’t have one yet.

Now though, it's time to confront Conan so all of us are heading to the Mouri Detective Agency to collect our superpowered friend. Genta-kun is walking with hands behind his head, and Mitsuhiko-kun is going over the collected examples for a fifth time today on his dad’s borrowed camcorder as the screen on the Headband Camcorder is really small. At least Agasa showed us how to move the memory to another device.

I look around a little bored the Agency is still pretty far, and my mind is starting to wonder back to the whys for Conan hiding his powers... you know there’s not a lot of people on this street... Maybe?

I slow my pace so I’m between Genta-kun, and Mitsuhiko-kun and softly ask, “Do you two have any guesses on why He is hiding his powers, my theory is that he’s a human youkai hybrid trying to learn about his human side after living in the spirit world.” being intentionally vague so if someone overhears they would think we were talking about a manga

Genta-kun grins and states, “My theory is that he is a human-like alien raised on earth like Superman-san.”

Mitsuhiko-kun looks at the both of us and calmly says, “I don’t think either of you are right. If Genta’s was right he would know more things kids our age do, and if Aymui’s was right he wouldn’t know half the stuff he does... mainly the whole Sherlock Holmes thing I’m pretty sure he read every book at least twice with how much he brings it up.”

Genta-kun sputters and softly retorts, “So what’s your theory then?”

Mitsuhiko-kun seems to think a bit and says softly, “Well going by both the weird disparity of knowledge and the honest fear we sometimes pick up from him. Also by the fact his... caretaker likely knows going off how she reacts to things. My theory is that he escaped from an science lab doing illegal experimentation and was found by his current caretaker after being on the run, she’s likely helping him hide from them.”

Both Genta-kun and I both end up stopping and staring at Mitsuhiko-kun for a bit as we turn over his theory in our heads. It makes sense, a lot of sense and honestly it is a much more well thought out explanation, and one that arguably uses more than the fact he has powers as supporting evidence.

Mitsuhiko-kun fidgets in place as we both stare at him. “Guys, shouldn’t we be still moving?” Mitsuhiko-kun comments seemingly to get us to stop staring at him, but he has a point. So I elbow Genta-kun and start moving again.

We both end up telling Mitsuhiko-kun that we think that his theory makes the most sense, before we move on to talking about manga and anime. Talking about Conan can wait until we collect our friend.

Time flows quickly when it’s spent with friends and all three of us find ourselves on the street outside the Mouri Detective Agency in what seems like minutes later but was likely a little longer then that. We excitedly climb the stairs up to the office.

Unfortunately it seems the Agency is busy because a unknown teen is inside the main room and a old lady standing by the door. I can see Conan though the door. His hands are grabbing at his head, his face is scrunched up in pain, and from the angle I’m standing at I can see his eyes are rapidly switching between a normal blue and a glowing green color.

I’m a little worried, though thankfully only us kids can see his eyes, but that doesn’t help when our friend is clearly in some kind of pain. I try to get past the old lady to reach Conan, but Ran noticed us before we can even get into the office.

Ran asks the lady to come deeper into the office and blocks our way in, kneeling to our level to speak to us. “Sorry guys, Conan can’t play with you today. He isn’t feeling the best and we’re going to take him along on this case so he feels a little better.”

A case? “Can we come too, Ran-onēsan?” I ask for all of us, and I can see  Mitsuhiko-kun and Genta-kun nodding in agreement to my question. We all enjoy solving cases.

Ran-onēsan shakes her head, “I don’t think that is a good idea. For one the location is much father away then I’m comfortable taking you without your parents permission. And knowingly taking all of you where a murder took place without their permission is not a good idea in the first place”

“And our parents are not likely to give the permission you need if you mention the murder on the location,”  Mitsuhiko-kun says with a downcast tone, and I find myself nodding along with Genta-kun as we both agree with Mitsuhiko-kun

Ran’s face gains an apologetic look, as Conan starts to recover from whatever was the cause of his pain. At least that’s one issues solved. “I’m sorry, but you come by tomorrow!” Ran tells us as she gently pushes us away.

I’m feeling a little sad at being turned away, and Mitsuhiko-kun and Genta-kun look sad too. Well I can’t have my friends be sad and say, “come on guys, theirs always tomorrow,” all bright and cheery.

“Right!” comes the loud agreement from my friends, and we all agree to come by tomorrow, for the last member of the Detective Boys.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough, and I wake up full of energy feeling incredibly restless for the reveal of our knowledge to our superpowered friend of the existence of his superpowers. I couldn’t leave right away though. I had to do my morning chores and eat my morning meal, before mom and dad would would let me go out to play. Lucky all my chores are is picking up my toys and putting them away and pulling my covers up.

After eating the food mom made for me I race out the door. Racing down the street trying to reach the Agency as fast as I can, Meeting up up with Mitsuhiko-kun and Genta-kun about halfway down the main street to the Agency. I have to stop my running so I can walk with my friends, and the three of us reach the Agency soon after. 

Entering the office today is a much different scene then yesterday. For one Conan-kun is happily reading a Sherlock Homes book on one of the couches while humming to himself. While Ran-onēsan cleans up the office area, and her dad takes a nap at his desk. I almost feel bad we’re going to be pulling him away from his book, so we can explain that we know about his powers, but well... as I said I almost feel bad, us clearing the air is much more important then Conan-kun’s reading time.

“Ran-onēsan can Conan-kun come and play with us today?” I ask for the group.

Ran-onēsan jumps a bit in surprise and turns to us. She clearly didn’t realize we were there. “Oh! Ayumi-chan and friends... hmm... well I think that will be up to Conan-kun today. Yesterday... was a mess of a case.” She says.

Ran-onēsan walks over to Conan on the couch after waving all of us inside, and gently shakes him, making Conan flicker with surprise, and It seems Mitsuhiko-kun’s theory was right because Ran-onēsan immediately tried to block Conan-kun from all our sight... A bit late for trying to prevent us from finding out, but a good effort.

Conan-kun now that he has stopped reading is looking around the office, and when he sees us looking at him. He grins and says, “Hi guys, What are you doing here so early?” while still holding his book.

“We came to ask Ran-nēchan if you can play with us today, but Ran-nēchan told us we needed to ask you that question.” Genta-kun says with an answering grin and while putting his arms behind his head.

Instead of answering right away, Conan-kun gets of the couch and goes to grab a bookmark, and putting the book down on the table. “Sure sounds like fun! I’ve already read this book anyway, so I already know the answer to the mystery in the book. I was really only reading it again to analyze Homes-san’s and Watson-san’s relationship in comparison to the other books I've read. I’m hoping to discover new facets of their friendship and how it has developed and the likely paths that friendship may take!” Conan-kun says with a grin

“That sounds really cool, Conan-kun. Maybe you can explain what you figure out to us later.” Mitsuhiko-kun says and I find myself nodding along in agreement. All of us have gained a small interest in mystery stories thanks to Conan. His enthusiasm for the genre is just plain infectious. I’ve tried to read a Sherlock Homes book myself but the reading level was to much from for me... I wonder if Conan-kun knows any mystery stories that I could likely read?

“Sure! I’d love to explain later, but let’s head to the park. I’m in the mood to play some football.” Conan-kun says as I was thinking, and I turn to him to him to see him smiling and bouncing with every step. 

“Sure I can go for a few games, after we do a few thing first.” Genta-kun says

“Yah, we found some cool things we want to show you first!” I say, being truthful while being as indirect as possible. I’m almost sure Conan-kun can smell lies told to him.

Conan-kun grins and run up to Ran-onēsan and says, “Bye Ran-nēchan, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Okay be safe Conan-kun... try to avoid walking into a murder...” Ran-onēsan says as she leans down to give Conan-kun a quick hug.

Conan-kun pouts, and I can’t stop some giggles from coming out. Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun seem to be grinning as Conan-kun complains to Ran-onēsan that he doesn’t run into murders all the time.

The four of us leave the Agency after Genta-kun grabs one of Conan-kun’s footballs to play with later. Conan-kun spends like five seconds with his arms stretched out standing in direct sunlight once we get outside. Which is normal for him as he does this every time after he has been inside for a while. I wonder if Conan-kun’s powers are solar-powered like superman-san’s. I’ll have to remember to ask once we explain that we know.

The walk to the park is quite, what with the three of us barely hidden glee at what we’re going to reveal, but we need to be safe about this we can’t do the reveal in the open. If Mitsuhiko-kun is even sort of correct, doing this wrong could mean we’ll never see our friend again. Conan-kun on the other hand is just too busy enjoying the sunshine to talk for now.

When we reach Beika Park we pull Conan over to some bushes, and I tell him to follow us as Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun crawl under the bushes. “We found this spot a few days ago and we really wanted to show you it.” I say as we come into a small protected area completely enclosed by the bushes on all sides. The internal area is completely clear of bush stuff and has a little bowl shaped patch of dirt in the center, and the whole place is the perfect size for a kid sized hideout so long as were quiet.

“Wow, this is a really cool find.” Conan-kun says as he looks up at the patches of sky that can be seen though the various branches of the surrounding bushes. “I wonder how this place came to exist. How did you find this place anyway?” Conan-kun asks.

I can’t stop myself from breathing in quickly, and I hear Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun doing the same beside me. This is it. It’s finally time to reveal all we know. 

“Well at the time we were looking for place we could hold secret meetings and we found this by luck while searching for that.” I say

Now Conan-kun seems to be growing confused and asks, “Why would we need to hold secret meetings?”

“Maybe so we can talk about your superpowers safely Conan.” Genta-kun retorts while crossing his arms in front of him.

Conan flinches into invisibly and nervously says, “ehe, What makes you say that... Superpowers aren’t real...”

I sigh and say, “Conan-kun... your a really bad liar you know that right? Plus you literally just turned invisible in front of us right now...”

“We have more proof as well,” states Mitsuhiko-kun pulling out the camcorder he borrowed from his dad with the data from the Headband Camcorder on it all but pushing it into Conan-kun’s hands. “We’ve be recording ever instance of power usage for over a month and a half now... well in between covering for you anyway.”

“What Mitsuhiko-kun says is true... by the way did you know you turn invisible whenever you’re surprised?” I say as I watch Conan-kun going though the evidence we collected. He is steadily growing more resigned to his fate at the overwhelming amount of evidence we’ve collected.

“Ah Yes, I can see that quite clearly.” Conan-kun says dryly. “How did you even collect all this, anyway?”

‘We had the professor make a hidden camcorder for us, in fact Ayumi-chan is wearing it right now.” Mitsuhiko-kun says pointing to my headband which is in fact the headband camcorder the professor made for us.

“Yup my headband is called the Headband Camcorder by the professor and I’ve had it for weeks... not going to lie wish I could have told you about it sooner would have made some of the cases we ran into a lot easier if we could have used it... but now that were showing all the evidence we collected with it we can finally use it with the normal detective boy stuff!” I say taking it off to show the invention in full, letting my hair fall into my face at the same time with a giggle.

Conan places the borrowed camcorder down gently in the packed dirt to grab the headband to see how it worked. Starting from the lens hidden in the side of the bow. Then to the screen that can be pulled down to find the menu that controls the whole thing, as well as review the photos and recordings. The buttons that allow you to navigate the menu are located on the bar that the screen is mounted too, and protected by slightly raise ridges so it can’t turn on accidently while the screen is put away.

“This is something I can see being very useful, like if we find a body that gets hidden again, making sure we have proof.” Conan-kun says after looking at it and handing it back to me.

“I really don’t think, we have to worry about not being believed by Inspector Megure ever again, Conan-kun. He knows us way to well now.” I say

Conan does a little eye roll, “There’s more Inspectors in Japan then just Inspector Megure, Ayumi-chan. And not all of them will trust our word like Inspector Megure does. It’s better safe then sorry, and we’ll save a lot of time if we have proof straight away.” 

Conan stops talking thinking, then asks, “Getting back to my abilities. What powers did you catch me with anyway?”

“Flight or floating, not sure which is the correct term. Super strength, By the way, you should really start to remember the professor’s super shoes only cover stuff done with your legs. And last but not least Invisibility, obviously given its the most common power you accidently use.” Mitsuhiko-kun lists

“What Mitsuhiko says basically, By the way, Conan. Tell which one of us got the closest to the truth. I say your an alien, Ayumi says your some kind of youkai hybrid, and Mitsuhiko said something about you being an escapee from a mad scientist lab and trying to avoid being found by them once more so you stay free... Oh and that Ran-nēchan knows about your powers.” Genta-kun comments

Once Genta-kun finishes speaking, I watch as Conan start to pale and look on in pure disbelief, rapidly looking between Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun. This is getting out of hand so I slam my palms hard on the backs of the heads of both boys. “Just stop it right now, can’t you see your making Conan-kun freak out. Conan-kun you don’t have to answer anymore questions today and can go play like you wanted, but I will say all of us wish you to stop Hiding from us. Please... don’t push us away.”

Downcast looks, softly spoken apologies, and exaggerated agreeing nods come from Genta-kun and Mitsuhiko-kun reinforcing when I stated, and I see Conan-kun taking a calming breath and he gives all three of us a wide grin. 

“Well we can go over everything with Ran-nēchan later,” He turns to Mitsuhiko-kun pointedly, “Because your right Ran-nēchan does know about my powers.”

Conan gets a playful light to his eyes as they start to glow green softly, “Ran-nēchan calls me an Yūrei Hanyou as it is the closest to what I am. I have a human form and a ghostly one and all of the basic powers given to spirits in legends. Flying, becoming Invisible, walking through walls, possession, and even a little shapeshifting. If you can just accept all of that... well I’ll stop trying to hide what I am form you... just don’t ask to see my ghost shape it’s naked and really embarrassing.”

Conan-kun looks so much lighter I think, as we ask Conan-kun question after question about what it’s like to have powers and to sometimes be a ghost. Hehe We didn’t get to play football that day to busy catching up with the rest of our friend’s life. It’s fine though there’s always tomorrow... Hmm I wonder if Conan-kun would go for normal kid lessons from us.

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 1: The Beginning

A Loki fanfiction!

Next Chapter

Full Chapter List

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It’s your third week back in school and you're slumped over a tower of textbooks as some kind of makeshift pillow. Your head rests on the 394th page of “The Dream Oracle” where you’ve begun to drool. You raise a hand to wipe it away, which takes up nearly as much energy as trying to stay awake.

It was cold in the dark.

Chills ran up your arms, from your fingertips to your neck as you floated through the darkness. It was frightening the first few times you dreamt of it but now it was familiar. The cavern formed slowly as your eyes adjusted to the minimal light emitted by a fire below you. Small sticks and papers created a meager flame which reflected off the black pool of water you looked into. You always wondered who made the fire, but there was never anyone there.

In the centre of the cavern was a small lake, its ripples moved like serpents. On queue, your body flew over to the middle of the lake and dove in. You swam - more like sunk - to the bottom. It may have enveloped you in utter darkness, but you saw the glow. The bluish light of the object drew you in like a moth to a flame and you reached out for it. Once again, you were thrown out of the lake just as you were about to touch it.

You looked around at the empty cavern and noticed the shadows moving. This was new. Usually, you woke up as soon as the lake threw you out.

Near the shore, by a dangerous jut of rock, there was a man. He was tall, with raven black hair and a proud nose. His expression was one of wonder and fear. There was a green light that emerged from his hands and he waved this light in front of him and beside him, almost erratically, as if he was warning someone - or something - to stay away.

“Don’t come near me!” he shouted. It echoed through the cavern.

You came closer and recoiled at what he was speaking to. Every dark shadow was, in fact, a body. The green light that the man emitted showed their decaying, pale faces. These bodies moved towards him. Not a sound, but each expression was contorted painfully. Their bony hands reached out to him, and he threw a green ball of fire at them. Some flew backwards into the lake, but there were so many.

They surrounded him. You saw him put up the fight of his life, and yet they came closer still. Until he had nowhere to run. You reached out to try to help him, but your body was already being pulled away. The last thing you heard was him scream your name, “Freya!”

Hands slapped onto the desk, and your head bounced on the pages.

“My god, have you been sleeping here this whole time?” An annoyingly familiar voice said. “You wouldn’t believe it! They’re finally getting a replacement for Professor Rattowl.”

It took several seconds for you to remember where you were. You lifted your head and look into a pair of inquisitive brown eyes and an aloof expression.

Her hair was braided on the sides and drawn into a high ponytail. Her robes were wrinkled as usual. “Valkyrie, how did you find me in the Hufflepuff common room? I specifically told Thomas to throw you off.” Your voice was thick with sleep.

Valkyrie snorted. “Thomas is a fool for a flirty conversation. You’d think that boy had never had a wank before…”

The memory of the dream hit you, and your heart sank. “Valkyrie, I saw something.”

She glanced at you and then to the wall of the hallway. A long shadow approached swiftly. “Oh shit, the prefect!”

“Quick! Hide!” You said to Valkyrie, pointing her to the coat closet.

A gleaming head of blonde hair turned around the corner and walked towards you. His eyebrows were raised, and he adjusted his rectangular glasses, glaring at you. You tried not to look guilty.

“Eves, what are you doing? This is a quiet area, and I heard voices.” he walked around your desk, looking around suspiciously.

“I must have fallen asleep. I had a poor sleep last night so…”

“Hmmm,” he said, walking near the coat closet.

You held your breath as he reached for the brass door handle. “You know we don’t allow any other houses in our quarters, Eves.”

“Of course.”

He turned to you, reaching away from the handle. “Then you also should know we don’t condone dirtying the sacred pages of our texts,” he said, gesturing at your books with a frown. “Clean this up and head to the Great Hall. Headmistress Frigga has announcements to make.”

He left, adjusting his glasses again but with his shoulders straightened out as if he had done a good job. You wondered if he would pat himself in the back afterwards.

Valkyrie all but crashed out of the closet and mocked Gerald. “Sacred texts! What a prat.”

You chuckled as she took a chair beside you. “Sacred or not, this damned thing cost me twenty galleons!” You wiped the drool away with the sleeve of your robe. The inside was a warm yellow. You glanced at Valkyrie. “How do you keep sneaking into our common room?”

She winked at you with a mischievous smile. “I have my ways, my sweet innocent Hufflepuff darling,” she said, reaching out and patting you on the head. “I wouldn’t dare want to corrupt your purity with treasonous talk.”

You punched her in the arm. “You are a jock in the land of intellectuals,” you said with a smirk, glancing at her red and gold tie.

She linked her arm through yours and dragged you away from the desk. “Alright alright, miss intellectual, now that you’ve stopped drooling, let’s go eat.”

***

The great hall was washed in the warm light of the candles that hung beautifully in the air above you. It was a sight that had never ceased to amaze you, no matter how many times you saw it. The flames flickered in a soft dance. You followed the path of candles over to the head table where all your professors sat.

Professor Odinson was there, with his chiseled youthful face that made all the ladies, Valkyrie in particular, swoon. He was a handsome man, though he did not occupy your thoughts as often as he did for others. Beside him was Professor Sif, laughing humorously at something Professor Odinson said. Then there was Professor Fandral nodding and smiling at Professor Hogun - whom you guessed was discussing the riveting growth cycles of the mandrake.

Headmistress Frigga was in the middle, in her silvery blue robes with sequins sewn into intricate patterns. Her aura was one of a Queen, with a gentle and kind face. On her one side there was an empty seat and on the other side was Heimdall, the divination professor, with whom she was in a deep discussion with. His sunset coloured eyes drifted around the room before settling on you. He always knew. You smiled back and waved at him. He nodded, though his expression was strained, perhaps even troubled.

For a moment you wondered if he knew what you had dreamed. Heimdall was one of the greatest seers of your time, and you happened to be his favourite student. He already knew of your repetitive dreams regarding the cavern, but you needed to tell him about the strange development - and the mysterious man you saw. Most of the time your dreams were fuzzy, but you remembered his face with an aggressive lucidity. Blue eyes that reflected the green magic in his hands before they disappeared into darkness remained on your mind. You took a deep breath and pushed it away.

“Did they already do the first years?” You said aloud to your table.

Mo, a fellow seventh year Hufflepuff, nodded. “Yep, and I guessed about 25/30, not bad, eh?”

You smiled at him and turned around to Valkyrie, who was right behind you, seated at the Gryffindor table. She winked at you when delicious food marvellously populated the table and you all tucked in. She filled her plate and then roughly rocked Mo to the side and sat down beside you.

“What were you saying about Rattowl?” You said, biting into a chicken hand pie. The rich flavour of creamy peas and carrots filled your mouth, and you reveled in it for a brief moment.

Valkyrie had half a mouthful of sausage and chewed loudly. “Well, it’s been what? A month since he croaked?”

A Hufflpuff girl across from you both, Nila, balked at Valkyrie. “How can you say that? He was...killed.” She could barely say the last word.

Valkyrie gave her a look. “What? It don’t make no difference, does it?”

Nila huffed indignantly. Mo interjected. “Well, it’s not every day a professor disappears for three weeks, only to be found ripped apart in the Forbidden Forest.”

You all wrinkled your noses in a few seconds of awkward silence. He was right. It was a bizarre and terrible thing to have happened. You had no love for Professor Rattowl. He was a cranky old man with awful manners, but he did not deserve such a fate.

Valkyrie said, “Well I heard that the Headmistress’s son is going to be the new potions teacher.”

You raised your brows. “Professor Odinson has a brother?”

Valkyrie’s eyes lit up at the mention of him. “If there are two Thor Odinson’s, then I will die this very moment.”

You, Mo, and Nila rolled your eyes at her when the doors crashed open in an echoing sound. All the chatter in the Great Hall was silenced when a lean and tall figure in a black cloak strolled into the room. His languid pace revealed a streak of arrogance - or confidence - as he walked down the hall, towards the head table. He walked between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables and slowly removed his hood.

You audibly gasped when you saw the raven haired man with his high cheekbones and proud nose. His blue eyes snapped towards you, and you felt your face heat up in seconds. He kept his eyes on you briefly before looking back at the head table. You breathed again once he was well past you.

Valkyrie looked at you questioningly. She whispered, “what’s going on?”

You could not take your eyes off of him and whispered back, “later.”

Everybody at the table rose, and Headmistress Frigga spoke with her wand pointed at her neck. “We will never forget our dear Professor Hubert Rattowl and the legacy he leaves here. The tragedy of his passing will remain a bitter memory in the long colourful history of Hogwarts. It has been a terrible time trying to fill this role, and our surprise guest has been gracious enough to accept our invitation. Professor Loki Laufeyson’s entrance may give you a taste into his exciting curriculum as the new Potions Master.” She gave him a warm smile.

He walked over to his seat and placed his hands on the table to look out at the students. There was something both inviting and dangerous about him. You could not look away.

He smiled widely and raised his hands. “Your potions saviour is here!”

The students clapped and eventually broke into applause. The Slytherin table was particularly ecstatic. There was no mistaking what house he belonged to. He looked at every table with a wide grin, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. They rested on you and your heart stopped. They flickered away, and he moved on before sitting down as the Headmistress continued her announcements.

Your hands were still clasped together in mid clap as you looked at the same man that was in your dream. His screams echoed in your mind and you wondered if this was all a nightmare. Regardless, it was going to be an interesting semester.

[whetstonefires]

in the shadows

hey guess who has two thumbs and just spent 5 hours straight writing another batman AU?

-

Batman wasn’t a person.

He faked it very well. When the League gathered, the line of his mask against pale skin looked natural and human, a little more perfectly fitted than the Flash’s but not quite as perfect as Green Lantern’s, which was an energy projection and not a real object and thus lay against his face flawlessly, without shift or gap.

His mouth didn’t bend into many expressions and his body language wasn’t voluble, but the emotive gestures that he did make were pretty normal. The rare smile seemed honest. He had a heartbeat, perfectly steady. His shadow (almost) always matched the shape that was blocking the light.

The stories that came out of Gotham, about the Bat—those could be exaggerations, born of terror and manipulated perception. Clark, of all people, knew how much you could convince people to believe things that weren’t real, because they made a better story. Even the scraps of photography and film showing a towering thing of black fog and long fangs could have been some clever trick with projectors.

The fact that Superman couldn’t see through his suit just meant it was well made.

He’d had to pool his observations with Diana and J’onn before he’d been sure he wasn’t imagining things. But Martian Manhunter knew shapeshifting, and said the block against his mind when he tried to touch Batman’s thoughts did not feel quite human. And Superman knew what posing as human looked like. And Wonder Woman knew truth, and its absence.

Batman wasn’t human. Which wasn’t the problem, of course.

The problem was that he was pretending he was. Pretending it rigorously in a situation where there shouldn’t be any need, unless he had something worse to hide. Pretending it in a way that overlaid on a certain inhuman predatory grace began to look very dangerous indeed.

Superman could see both things in him now, watching narrow-eyed through a roof into the room where Batman bent over a child’s bed, cape swirling up larger and darker than he let it get around them. The man and the hungry creature, flipping in and out of focus, neither ever gone but superimposed, like a trick picture that was two things at once.

Knuckles ghosted over the boy’s cheek, claws turned inward, and the child sighed softly, and sunk deeper into sleep. Batman’s heart wasn’t beating, but Clark could monitor the child’s vitals easily from here.

Batman drew his hand back, and tipped his head up—looking back at Superman as though the roof was no more a barrier to his perceptions than to Clark’s. Waited a beat, as if making sure his attention had been noticed, and then passed soundlessly between the other beds to the window, slid it open, and launched himself out through it and up onto the roof.

He didn’t bother to restrain himself to even a plausible approximation of human limits, now. The arm he reached up to the edge of the roof to pivot himself up by was too long, and his shoulder rotated further than it should have been able to, and he landed with impossible soundlessness in a billow of cape that was far, far larger than any cape that only reached to his heels should have managed, and which faded out at the edges into shadow. He knew he was found out.

Superman took the obvious invitation, and sunk down to join him. It was better, sitting like this, facing the same way on the ridgepole of a two-story building. Batman hadn’t hurt that child, that he could tell. There was no need to make this a confrontation.

“I don’t understand why,” he said at last. Out of deference for sleeping children, he kept his voice soft—he would have worried about a human being able to hear it, but now he knew he didn’t have to worry about that with Batman. “Why go to so much trouble to deceive us? We haven’t kept secret what we are. Not from you.”

Alien, alien, user of alien weapon, magical princess…

Batman sighed. He spoke almost as softly as Clark had, and his voice sounded the same as ever, except for the fact that a human voice couldn’t get this quiet without falling into a whisper. “I’m not like you.” He turned.

He’d let some of the details of his human mask fall away—what must have been the exhaustively rendered texture of skin, the flakes of dry skin on chapping lips, a crease at the corner of his mouth that had suggested he scowled or smiled more, outside of his costume. There was no pretense of a jawbone, under the skin, though the jawline externally hadn’t changed. The cowl still looked like something he was wearing, but Clark knew it was not. It flexed like skin when Batman narrowed his blank white eyes and said, “I can see you know that.”

“You’ve visited that kid every day for weeks,” Clark said. “Why?”

Batman stared at him. “How long have you known?”

“Batman…”

“You’re confronting me now because you’re worried about my intentions toward Dick. He changed your mind about something. Ergo, you’ve been sitting on this for a while. How long have you known I wasn’t real?”

That was such a bizarre choice of words Clark almost skipped answering the question to chase it down, but he held himself back. This wasn’t a story, and Batman wasn’t even a hostile source so far, if it had been. “Wonder Woman, J’onn and I pooled our observations about four months ago, in April. We were pretty sure by the time we finished comparing notes.” He shrugged. “I suspected something a long time before that, but it’s hard to say when it started to be more than…a feeling.”

“A feeling,” Batman echoed. “Yes, it would start there.”

“So?” Superman prompted. He had liked Batman. He was the last person who could insist that someone hiding the truth of his own nature was reprehensible, though the sting he’d felt about it was an uncomfortable reminder of how much most of his friends would resent him, if they knew the truth. So he’d meant to let it lie, until Batman chose to trust them, or gave them a reason not to trust him. “Why have you been visiting…Dick?”

It wouldn’t be suspicious on its own—well, not very suspicious, all things considered, in context—except that Batman had changed, around the same time. Diana said his presence seemed deeper, Clark thought he seemed to be having trouble staying within the outlines of his human mask. J’onn agreed that he seemed somehow more powerful.

Batman stayed silent a long time. Eighteen heartbeats from the boy below them, slower than those of his peers because he had an athlete’s conditioning already and was more deeply asleep than most of them. At last, the being beside him confessed, “He’s carrying me.”

“What?”

“You noticed I’m stronger now,” Batman said matter-of-factly, in a way that almost managed to cover up emotion. “That’s his doing. I was…fading, when you met me. Not up to capacity. I’m not really meant to exist that way.” He glanced over at Superman again, as though evaluating his reaction, and Clark wondered if he had really needed to do that—if he really only saw out of his eyes. J’onn could make eyes anywhere he wanted some, but he needed them to see. Batman seemed somehow less constrained by biology than that.

“Is it hurting him?”

“No! No. It…shouldn’t.” Batman ghosted a sigh, voiceless, inhuman as the wind. “I don’t know that it’s good for a child to be around me. But I’m not…taking anything from him. I’m not…feeding on him, if that’s what you think.”

It was what Clark had feared. And probably anything that would eat a child would also lie about it, but Batman was his teammate and very nearly his friend. So it was reassuring to have it so firmly denied. He’d come braced for only a little and no lasting damage and he said it was fine.

“Please,” he said. “Can you explain it to me?”

“I suppose I have to.” Batman tipped his head back, to look up at the few stars that smudged themselves visible through the red blanket of light-polluted smog overhead. Clark could make out more of them, even with his ordinary visible-light vision, than a human could have. He wondered what Batman saw. “Will you tell the others for me? Your little conspiracy?”

“Not Green Lantern and Flash?”

“Hal and Barry can figure me out on their own.” That dry sense of humor was the same, even if it was bending amusement onto a mouth that could no longer pass as human.

A breath Clark suspected he didn’t need was drawn. “A different little boy made me up,” Batman said. “Bruce Wayne. You can look the story up in the newspaper archives.

“It was a little over twenty years ago, in Gotham. A mugger shot his parents in front of him.” Another slanted glance, and then he looked away again. He certainly acted like he needed his eyes to see. “It wasn’t more terrible than things that happen to a hundred other people every day, really. But he was the right kind of terrified and angry, in the right place, at the right moment…the police reports all say he tackled the mugger from behind, and got lucky that the man hit his head. But it was me. I took him down.”

He raised his face back toward the smudged stars. “I was such a small thing, then. If that vengeance had been enough—the killer taken in and sentenced, brought to justice—I would have faded away again. Things like me are summoned and dispelled that way all the time. Or he could have taken me back into himself—the danger was past, it wasn’t a chronic part of his existence, so I would have reintegrated, probably, and not hung around rising up to protect him for the rest of his life, and probably disrupting it in the process.”

That amused quirk to the horizontal slash of a mouth, again. “But it wasn’t enough. Not for him. He clung. He brooded. He wanted to protect everyone. And I grew.” Bittersweet and fond. “I grew until I really could help. Until anyone could see me, any time I liked. Until I was solid enough to get in half a dozen fights in one night without my blows starting to go right through the enemy.”

There was no way Batman was letting him know these things about how he worked, when he wasn’t holding back, by accident. They were being given.

“Where’s Bruce now?” Clark asked. Knowing it was probably a painful topic, but hoping to hear it was some rule of magic out of a storybook, that only a child had the right kind of belief to sustain a projection of this nature. That Bruce Wayne had grown up and moved on and had a career and a family, and perhaps didn’t remember that Batman was something he’d made.

Batman’s eyes closed, and vanished completely into the black of his head. He’d kept unspooling all the while he’d been talking, Clark realized, and the gouts and folds and flame-like flickers of his cape now sprawled over more than half the roof, leaving a great circle of open space around Superman himself, and a broad open route away from Batman, as though he couldn’t just go straight up if he wanted to get away. The billows of it had now collapsed in on themselves. His voice, when he spoke, was hushed and solemn, but calm. “He didn’t make it to sixteen. He died tackling a gunman who’d been holding up a corner store where he happened to be, buying junk food he wasn’t supposed to have. The cashier fumbled the register key and bent over to pick it up, and the man panicked and started shooting. Bruce saved lives, that night. But he didn’t survive. Because I wasn’t there. I was away protecting other people, like he’d asked me to.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said. Inadequate as always, but more so, when he’d pushed for this truth and didn’t even understand enough to know how to offer comfort. He reached out to offer a comforting, boundary-respecting brief pat on the shoulder, like he might have when he had less idea what Batman was, and his hand hung still in the air, as the face Batman turned toward him was human again, so abruptly that even to his accelerated visual perceptions it looked like some sort of glitch.

“This is his face,” Batman told him, and the grief that hadn’t been in his voice before was worn on it, in the pull of the mouth and the bend of pain around the blank white eyes. He looked like he might cry. “The way he would have looked. He never…grew this far, but…”

“In memory of him, then,” Superman said, soothing, and was able to deliver the pat on the shoulder and withdraw. It sounded like Batman was in some ways the only surviving part of Bruce Wayne, and as such had every right to his appearance, but he clearly didn’t think of himself that way, and it wasn’t Clark’s place to try to alter his self-concept, or even make comment when he’d only just been introduced to it. “That seems appropriate.”

Batman shrugged. It looked very human, except for the way the cape parts of him reacted. “I knew it best.”

Had he held the memory of his…creator’s face in his head, updating it carefully to how he would have looked with every year or month that passed? That couldn’t be healthy. It also might be unavoidable, considering Batman’s origins.

“You went on protecting Gotham, afterward?”

“What else would I do?”

“And you joined us. When Starro came.” Batman nodded, as though that was only obvious. Clark supposed it was—when you were a supernatural entity created to protect human beings, why would you not answer a call to band together with other superpowered beings to save the world? “Why did you pretend?” he asked. “To be…”

“Human?” Batman asked. He snorted in derision, either at Clark’s inability to choose a word or his own deceit. “It wasn’t the first time. I talk to the police like this, sometimes. Witnesses. It reassures people, to be talking to a…person.”

That was the same reason J’onn made himself look more human, even in blatant green—it wasn’t entirely unlike why Clark kept his own life as Clark, why Superman didn’t wear a mask. “But why…” He’d gone to such lengths, to maintain the façade. Human jaw and teeth, sculpted solid to catch X-ray vision behind flesh he’d carefully made permeable to it, when even now with the image of Bruce Wayne’s face restored he wasn’t bothering. Consistent physical proportions. Always running close against the edge of normal human limits, of strength and speed and length of jump—not hanging back, but not throwing himself onto the front line either, contributing as much with tactics and analysis as actual combat. “Why try so hard to convince us?”

Batman shrugged. “I wasn’t holding back that much. I told you. I was fading. I was never meant to last. Once it turned out the team wasn’t a one-time thing, I still didn’t want to go through the whole…process of revelation.”

“But you’re doing it now.” Clark found he was grinding his teeth, because he was putting together a picture he didn’t like. “Because. Now you’re expecting to survive.” Batman had been dying. He hadn’t thought it was worth the stress of being honest with them, because he hadn’t expected to exist long enough for their relationships to matter.

Superman glanced down through the roof at the sleeping children, and one child in particular.

“I wasn’t there in time to save his parents, either,” Batman said, and Clark knew that feeling—all this power and yet you could still arrive too late, and be too little. But Batman was defined by that feeling, founded upon it almost, so it probably struck him deeper. “But I was there afterward. I protected him from the followup attacks, meant to stop him testifying about the sabotage he’d witnessed.

“And he clung to me, whenever I came…I do try to comfort them, especially when it’s children, but usually they’re at least a little bit afraid. He wasn’t. And he didn’t have anyone else to cling to. They wouldn’t let his parents’ friends in to see him more than once, and then they left town. And then, after I came to tell him that Zucco and his men were taken care of for good, when I left I felt the distance opening…I realized I was…his, now.”

There was a strange, wondering ache in the way he said it that made it easy for Clark to repress his own discomfort with the idea of anyone belonging to anyone else, and of something that looked like a grown man asserting an intimate personal bond with an unrelated child. Batman was supposed to belong to a child, it was how he’d been made, and he’d expected to die by inches in the absence of the one who’d made him, and now he suddenly wasn’t. This little orphan was the most precious thing in his world, that was plain, and to Clark at least it was equally plain that he felt a deep guilt at replacing the boy who had been his world before.

He wondered, suddenly, if Batman had ever been this honest with anyone in his existence. Had he been this open even with his Bruce, or had his need to protect led him to put on a front, and conceal every uncertainty?

The pale smudge of Batman’s face was still and remote, and his voice was nearly calm, but the darkness of his cape had spilled out over the whole roof now, and it was gently writhing. The route out for Superman, opposite Batman’s main body, had shrunk to the merest footpath. Was that there out of instinct, or a more conscious courtesy?

“You don’t have to leave that,” Superman said quietly, flipping his thumb toward the corridor of open shingle and beam. “I know you aren’t trying to trap me, and it won’t anyway.”

The path snapped shut almost instantaneously, and a little of the strain in the atmosphere faded—Batman had been holding himself back from encircling him completely only with continuous effort. Why? Did he naturally expand to fill the available space? Or was expanding in the form of the cape an expression of emotion that was uncomfortable to suppress, in the same way it was hard to sit still when you felt anxious, or hold your tongue when you got mad?

His teammate’s whole torso was turned away, now, and this too was easy to read—shame at his own inhumanity. In front of Clark, of all people. But then, Clark made it look easy, didn’t he? It even was easy for him, when it came to things like looking like he fit in.

J’onn should have been the one to come. But it disconcerted him not to be able to pick up anything Batman did not intentionally share—Clark didn’t think he’d learned to read human body language yet, beyond the most obvious things—and Batman had been known to use fire.

“It didn’t seem wise to seem to be trying to threaten you,” Batman said flatly, into the night.

“Thank you,” said Superman, because while he didn’t mind at this point, it would definitely have made him uncomfortable earlier, before Batman had made himself so vulnerable. “Could you, do you think?”

A sidelong look. “You’re less invulnerable to magic,” Batman said. “Probably.”

Something to keep in mind. The Flash was the only teammate he had now that he was reasonably sure he could take three falls out of three. Maybe they could start practicing against each other, if they could find somewhere they could risk making a mess on that scale. Sparring—he and Diana had tried it out, gingerly. If Batman wanted to stretch out his re-expanding powers in a secure environment…

“Do you have any plans, going forward?” Now that he had a future to plan for.

“I have someone who helps me,” Batman replied. “Bruce’s guardian, after his parents died. He wanted to leave Gotham, after…but he stayed. To try to help the city, in Bruce’s memory. And to keep an eye on me.” The amusement this time was bitter. “We don’t really get along. He thinks Bruce died because of me—that I made him feel invulnerable, and then didn’t protect him. He’s projecting. But I suppose that’s what I’m for.”

Clark made a face; he didn’t like the idea of people being for purposes. Even people who’d been made. This wasn’t the time to argue about it. “But he helps you?”

“He helps.” Batman glanced down, toward Dick’s bed, as though once again he could see through the roof. “I’m trying to get him to agree to take Dick in. He did a good job with Bruce, even if he doesn’t think so.”

“Will that be the best for Dick?” Clark asked, as neutrally as he could manage. He could tell Batman’s intentions were good, but he didn’t know if putting a child entirely within the influence of a supernatural being that had latched onto him, without an external line of support, was a good idea. On the other hand, putting him in the care of an adult who would know he wasn’t delusional could only help. And Clark could be the outside support, if necessary—not that he wasn’t under Batman’s influence himself, but he wasn’t within his circle of it the way this Alfred seemed to be, resentment or not. The resentment might be the most dangerous part.

What part of this train of thought Batman sensed, he couldn’t tell, as his comrade only retorted, “It can’t be worse than here!”

A group home with four beds to a room certainly wasn’t the best environment, but surely he couldn’t be here much longer. “Have you talked to him about it?”

“He doesn’t get much privacy. He agreed to meet with Alfred last time he ducked into a closet while I was there, so now Alfred’s the focus of the plan.” Batman sighed again. “He’s so brave,” he said fondly. “It worries me. I wish he were somewhere safe.”

The wild impulse rose to offer to step in, to take the role of legal guardian if this Alfred wouldn’t. Clark sat on it. He didn’t want a child, he wasn’t equipped to care for a child, CPS would be able to see that perfectly well in a single reporter in his 20s living in a one-bedroom apartment in a somewhat run-down building. He didn’t even live in the same state, and child placement was handled on a state-by-state basis so even petitioning for custody would be horrifically involved, never mind obtaining it. Also, he had a secret identity to protect.

He couldn’t always help. The hardest lesson in life, and one he had to keep relearning.

“So your plans are…to get Dick into a safe home environment.”

“And keep him alive,” Batman affirmed. Quick, and firm, and almost not obvious about what a vital goal this was to him. Keeping this child alive, the way he’d failed to keep the one before.

“Of course.” Clark nodded. If everything he’d been told was true—and he thought it was, it felt true—then there was no need for the League to intervene. Gotham was probably safer than it had ever been. “Can I meet him, sometime?” Partly to do his part as an outside support network. Partly because he was curious, to meet this child who’d been able to reach his hand into Batman’s chest and close his fingers around his heart.

Batman glanced over, and then seemed to relax. Even the endless piles of his cape seemed suddenly to behave more like ordinary fabric. “I passed, then?”

“What?” Oh. Of course he’d known. Clark had hardly been sneaky. “Yes.”

“Not that I know what you were planning to do if I hadn’t.”

Clark didn’t know either, other than get Dick away of he seemed to need it.

“All of this is off the record, of course,” Batman added. It was a testament to how distracted Superman was by Batman’s problems that it took a long second for him to realize the potential implications of that choice of words, and read in Batman’s posture and the way his cape had developed hooks of tension in some of its folds that they were entirely intentional.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“You attended a press event in Gotham two years ago. You still feel like you, no matter how you dress.”

“Well.” Superman tried to shake the sudden tension out of his shoulders. Batman was a good detective and data analyst, that hadn’t changed with the rest of it. He’d certainly tracked down the name of the gentleman from the Planet. “I guess that’s fair. And of course it’s off the record. I won’t even tell J’onn and Diana anything but the basics without your permission.”

“Oh.” Batman clearly hadn’t expected that. “Why?”

“You have a right to your privacy.” Clark thought back over his own approach to the whole situation and said, with a gentleness born somewhat of guilt, “You are a person, after all.”

“I’m really not,” Batman said, corner of his mouth ticking up just slightly to underline the easy irony in his voice. But the great spread of cape had fallen into easier, more geometric wrinkles, and Clark was beginning to learn to trust that over what he said with his borrowed face. Though he could almost definitely lie with the cape part of himself, too, if he needed to.

“Don’t…” His tongue flickered across the back of his teeth; be brave, Kent. “Don’t talk about my friend that way, huh?”

[opossumanonymous]

How did he get in this mess?

Warnings: Inko literally uses her quirk to pull out AFOs pubic hair because I don't think anything else would immobilize him temporarily, talk of inko using her quirk to pull organs, guns mentioned

I wrote this on my phone so sorry if anything looks funky for computer users. If I made any mistakes or any characters are too ooc please tell me. Also this is a fanfic featuring AFO as Midoriya Hizashi and Inko as a ex-Black Widow and mostly features them please enjoy!~

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How did he get in this mess, face kissing the floor and completely caught off guard?

Hizashi wasn't quite sure himself actually. One minute he was doing some 'work' before he heard the voice of his wife over his shoulder.

"Hizashi, what are you doing?"

Then he was on the floor a nearly blinding pain spread over his body leaving him in fetal position unable to think of nothing else.

Once his mind got clear again he turned his head to the side looking up at the woman who he thought was his wife. Her usually gentle smile was gone leaving a cold look on her face as she read through his files. One of her hands out stretched towards him while the other clicked through the computer.

Which made him briefly realize he may have to put plan B into action but before that he had to know if this was his wife or someone else. Last thing he wanted was to do something reckless if this wasn't his wife.

"Who-" Before Hizashi could utter a word he felt another painful pull causing him to ball up even further trying to somehow ease the pain. He choked on air as Inko? Stared at him with a blank expression now turned away from the computer. She crossed her legs as she watched him wither in pain looking at with him cold emotionless green eyes.

Who was this woman she can't be Inko! It gave him brief fear realizing that a shape-shifting spy might have tricked him somehow. After all theres no way his sweet wife could ambush him, let alone be capable of hurting him this badly! But if this is someone with a shape-shifting quirk there's no way they would also have wife's quirk as well. Unless they can copy the quirks of people they shape-shift into but then-

"So was this what you were doing while I was comforting our son?"

His eyes widened at that realization, it hit Hizashi hard as he broke out in a cold sweat. He looked up at Inko who still had that chilling look on her face making Hizashi for the first time in 200 years feel...afraid.

He didn't know whether to be impressed at her or disgusted in himself, him, All for One, the symbol of evil, the villain who has brought many heros and villains alike to their knees is...afraid? It sounds unreal just thinking about it that someone could still scare him.

Not by much but still it was a feat that no one before her had done in a long time.

He felt like he was getting whiplash knowing that the same woman who cooked him breakfast nearly every morning, who cried at anything sad or happy, and cuddled up to him at night was looming over him like some villain.

"Hizashi speak up your mumbling." She spoke harshly as he felt another pull, he's starting to lose feeling in his legs.

"I already knew." He said breathless feeling defeated almost, yet another feat none before her had accomplished. He could almost hear his brother laughing from his grave at this point. "What?" Her forehead wrinkled the cold look leaving her face for a moment making her look more like the Inko he knew.

"I checked Izuku years ago, I had my suspicions when he didn't develop his quirk after he turned 5. While I can't tell what a quirk is if I don't know it, I can sense them." He told her truthfully "When I reached into his subconscious one night after I tucked him in bed, I found no sign of a quirk." He knew their was a chance Izuku would be quirkless anyway, Hizashi was from the first generation of quirk users after all.

But he would never give his son a quirk, no he's not going to let history repeat itself, if there's anything he's learned in his 200 years of life it's never give your hero loving relatives a quirk.

Plus being a hero is 10 times more dangerous now, no thanks to him, he'd rather his precious son live quirkless.

Despite the ridicule quirkless people get from society atleast he won't ever get badly hurt or worse killed. Luckily Hizashi had a back up plan just in case he needed to protect his family from themselves.

But seeing Inko looming above him is starting to make him think about adding more reinforcements to the vault. After all she's not so much of a gullible woman like he once thought she was.

"I see but that doesn't change anything, you weren't there for our baby when he needed you most. That's why after this you're going to march into our sons room and comfort him like a good father should." He almost winched at her harsh tone. He honestly didn't know if he should be scared or not. He did still have an arsenal of quirks he could use but none that were non lethal from a long range he could use on her.

"And if I don't, what will you do?" He was curious in all honesty after all it's not every day your usually gentle and emotional wife does a 360 degree personality change on you.

"Then I'll keep ripping out your pubic hairs till you comply." He felt a slight tug again at the slight flick of her wrist causing him to flinch.

He had felt tempted to challenge her, now realizing it was a mistake seeing as she has him by the balls...literally.

"And if you try anything...well you'll be surprised at how many organs count as a small objects." She said with a chilling smile which he almost hates to admit made him flinch.

He always knew her quirk was suspicious despite only being limited to small objects it could still be a deadly quirk if used right. The number of deadly weapons considered small objects was big and considering she only needs a vague idea of where an object is located to pull it to her which includes organs...Hizashi's starting to realize he didn't really know his wife like he thought he did.

After all who would've guessed his sweet Inko would use her quirk so...creatively. He nodded, head still pressed to the hard wood floor of his office.

Inko gave a sigh of relief as she genuinely smiled running her hand through her green locks. "Good I'm glad we could come to an agreement." Hizashi felt the release of her quirk as she sat back legs still crossed.

He slowly sat on all fours before rising to his knees still feeling phantom pains with each slight movement.

Once he was on his knees he wrapped his arms around her waist laying his head in her stomach. She gently caressed his head of white curls causing him to sink further into her and let out a content hum. After a while he looked up at her, the cold look on her face gone now taking a more softer expression.

"I knew you where a villain since the first week after we got married." Hizashi didn't think Inko could shock him anymore but that honestly got him, and yet again she conquered another feat.

He would have never guessed that she knew about him being a villain before now. "Honestly I felt like I got rusty since I found out so late, but I guess living a normal civilian life will make anyone like that." She smiled gently at him looking more like the Inko he knew. Or atleast thought he knew, she was one of the most ordinary people he met from her average nursing job to her adorable naiveté at times.(which he now knows was probably just an act) She played him like a fiddle, he underestimated her and made him fall even harder for her.

That's right, he didn't think it was possible to love her even more than he already did, but this moment proved that wrong.

"Wait then if you knew why did you stay and why wait until now to bring it up?"

She furrowed her eyebrows again before turning her head away from him thinking about her answer for a second before looking back. "I'm not exactly who I said I was either..." She trailed off with a far away look in her eyes almost like she was looking through him and not at him.

He took her hand which had stopped rubbing his head and brought it to his cheek. This seemed to help her focus again as she gave him a tired smile.

"I'm not a good person either Hizashi I've done alot of things that I now regret." For a moment he guessed that she was an ex-villain that he'd just never heard of.

Although that was very unlikely seeing as he liked to keep tabs on most high profile villains to find anyone with good...potential. Inko definitely wasn't a low class villain she just didn't fit the profile of a bank robber or common street thug. Her aura gave off a more experienced air to it not to mention no low class villain would have the guts to look him in the eye once finding out who he really is.

"I was once apart of an organization who specialized in training those considered...unless in society." The way she said useless held a malice to it despite her still having a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"They kidnapped me and many other young girls most of them either being quirkless or having 'weak' quirks." Quirkless trafficking while rare nowadays still went on but he'd never heard of an organization making quirkless people assassins. Wlep there's a first time for everything he guessed.

"They trained and raised all of us to be assassins, to put it simply, they chose us because they knew we'd be underestimated."

Assassins? If someone had told him is lovely wife was secretly an assassin he'd laugh in their face before killing them for saying such a thing. But now after being brought to his knees by her he honestly isn't surprised, at this point he'd believe anything that came out of her mouth. She could tell him she could kill someone with only a plastic spoon and he'd believe her.

"I was one of the lucky ones i was able to escape before my 'graduation' if you could call it that. I was even able to find my birth certificate after months of digging through missing persons reports." She now went back to stroking his white curls as she spoke.

"After escaping I decided to live the life my mother wanted me to or at least I like to think she'd want me to." He knew she was an orphan, she'd told him that on their second date he never thought much about it.

He never even really looked into her mother much either only knowing that she died when Inko was young and that she was Nana Shimura's sister. When he found this out at first he was suspicious but over time he let his guard down, if that was a mistake is still up for debate.

"They called us Black Widows." He'd heard that name before but it's been so long, last time he heard the words Black Widow he was reading a comic book to his sick brother. It's either unoriginal or genius considering most will only think of the comic book hero Black Widow opposed to it being a real organization.

Finally getting the feeling back in his legs he stood up stretching slightly while she watched him. He stared down at her now that he had the high ground it was time to give her what she deserved.

He leaned down towards her his hands coming up to her face menacingly. But she just sat there unfazed with a serene look on her face, their was no real use in trying she knew he wouldn't hurt her. He held her face as he leaned in and gave her lips a gentle kiss.

After pulling away he took her hand and helped her out of his office chair. "Now time to go see about Izuku hopefully I can get him out of his depressed mood."

Giving her a true smile only reserved for his family he lead her out of his office not before shutting down his computer and locking the door.

"Yes please talk to him because I didn't know what to do than to apologize to him." She sighed clearly distressed. "While it has been a long time since I escaped somethings I still just don't know the right words for." She looked defeated like she didn't just have Japan's greatest villain nearly kissing her feet.

"It's fine darling soon Izuku will go back to being that happy kid again, you'll see." He gave her a final kiss before heading to Izukus room ready to help his son or else face the wraith of his wife.

He briefly wondered just how good of an assassin his wife is and just how many she's killed. But quickly shook those thoughts away as he entered his son's All Might themed room.

While he'd never ask her anything more about her past as a Black Widow he soon came to realize she was highly skilled as he watched his son on TV.

He was watching UAs sports festival with Tomura at his current hideout the boy exclaiming in shock at this year's winner.

The one to take first place was UAs first quirkless student Midoriya Izuku who took out the competition with only a pair of electroshock bracelets as wepons.

Not to say that it was only the support tools that secured his win, the way he bended dodging attacks and hit his opponents with devastating blows to the head made him nearly laugh out loud.

It was almost hard to believe that this was the same kind boy he once tucked in bed but he had to admit his son was quite reckless.

He's in all honesty proud of his son especially for beating Mizuki's brat whose bullied his poor son for years. While he isnt happy that his son's well on his way to being a hero atleast Inko trained him well.

Just how did Hizashi get in this mess he'd hoped quirklessness would make his son reconsider being a hero but it seems Inko had other plans.

*****************************************************

Extras:

So originally Inko was gonna hold him at gun point but I felt like AFO wouldn't be sacred of a gun so....

Also Inko has wepons (mostly guns) hidden in every wall in the apartment after all you never know when the red room might strike.

Inko still gets chubby but not from stress over Izuku being quirkless it's more so over the red room possibly finding him and taking him. She's still bad ass tho, can kill anyone with a just plastic spoon.

She also ran away from the red room before they could sterilize her.

Izuku does eventually get One for all but it's after the sports festival instead, tho he does still parade as a quirkless hero even after One for all.

He also is a vigilante on the side under the name Black Widow tho most think he's a girl because of the Black Widow reference. He even wears his mom's old Black Widow suit.

You could say he's hero Deku by day and vigilante Black Widow by night!

AFO totally knows it's him tho because he knows Inko wouldn't be that reckless or feral.

Izuku has no idea his loving father is AFO but knows his mom's an ex-assassin.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

of falling & skateboards

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Logan, Virgil, background Remus & Janus Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Pre-romantic/platonic Analogical (first meeting), romantic Dukeceit (getting together), platonic Dukexiety.  Warnings: Language, Remus is somewhat suggestive throughout because he’s Remus, minor injuries Word count: 4541

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

analogical week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: Virgil's friend Remus drags him to the skate park and promptly abandons him in order to flirt with Janus; at least Remus had the grace to introduce Virgil to Janus's attractive friend Logan, who is just as poorly versed in skateboarding techniques as Virgil.

Notes: Day 5 of Analogical Week 2021! @analogicalweek Remus uses he/they pronouns; at this point, Janus uses they/them.  Takes place in my Starlight Universe, does not need context to read. 

 Virgil’s phone began ringing, making him jump. He fished it out of his pocket, planning to hang up until he saw the caller ID. It was Remus—one of his new friends. They’d met at a club Virgil had gone to during orientation, and they’d hit it off and started hanging out. 

Virgil picked up the call. “Would it kill you to fucking text me first?” 

“You don’t respond fast enough,” Remus said, sounding bored. 

“Sometimes I’m in class, Remus!” 

“Are you in class now?” Remus asked. 

“...No.” 

“So it’s all good, see!” Remus cackled. “Anyway,” they went on, steamrollering over Virgil’s objection, “you wanna come to the skatepark with me this weekend?” 

That was totally out of the blue. “What?” Virgil asked after a pause. “Why?” 

“So, my brother has this roommate, and he’s super nerdy and boring but I think you’d totally get along and he’s coming to the skatepark with me and you should totally come along and meet him!” Remus explained. 

His voice was a little too self-satisfied. “What’s the catch?” Virgil asked suspiciously. 

Remus gasped dramatically. “Can’t I just want good things for my friend?” 

Virgil waited. 

“Also he’s friends with Janus and he’s bringing them, which is obviously totally unrelated,” Remus added. 

“Aha.” That made more sense; Remus had told Virgil way more information than he wanted to know about their crush on this Janus figure. 

“So you’ll come?” Remus asked eagerly. 

It wasn’t like Virgil had anything else going on this weekend. “Sure. I’ll come distract your friend so you can flirt.” 

“Hey!” Remus yelped, loud enough that Virgil winced and held the phone away from his ear. “Listen, this is a win-win situation for both of us! You’ll love him. Promise. He’s so fucking boring and nerdy, you’re going to talk each other’s ears off. It’ll be great! Trust me!” 

“Sure,” Virgil said, amused. “Text me the time and place. Text me,” he repeated for emphasis, and hung up the phone. 

On Saturday morning, he met up with Remus and the pair of them walked to the bus stop. Remus had their skateboard with them; Virgil didn’t own one, but Remus had assured him that he could check one out at the park for a small fee if he wanted to. 

“You did not say it was fancy,” Virgil accused as the bus pulled away from the stop. 

“What?” Remus looked down at himself. “Oh. No, I’m just sexy, nobody’s supposed to be fancy.” He was wearing a gray sports bra—it was the first time Virgil had seen him without a binder on, but even in a public setting he seemed totally unbothered—and faded jeans with huge holes in the knees, as well as platform doc martens and an olive green bomber jacket with “HE/THEY” stencilled on the back in white paint above a pair of skeletal hands giving double birds. His belly button was pierced and he was wearing a chunky black piece with small silver spikes in it; they had fishnet gloves on their hands, a black choker with small studded spikes on it around their neck, chunky black and silver studs in the three piercings he had in each ear, and messily smudged black and silver eyeshadow. His dark green curls were pushed back into a tiny, low ponytail that did absolutely nothing to contain them or make them less messy. “Pretty sure this isn’t what normal people mean when they say fancy, anyway,” they added thoughtfully. 

“Shut up, this is fancy. You’re being fancy to impress your crush.” Virgil elbowed them in the side. He was only wearing his typical combination of band tee, skinny jeans, and black hoodie; he felt positively underdressed next to them. 

“Yes, I am very very sexy and this is my mating call,” Remus said with an easy shrug. “What can I say?” After a pause, they added, “Do you think it’ll work?” 

Virgil snickered. “Sure. Whatever. You look very punk. I’m sure they’ll be very impressed.” 

“Good,” Remus said happily. “Here, this is our stop.” 

One thing Virgil had learned about Remus was that they had what seemed to be actually boundless energy, and it showed in the way they walked. They practically skipped, moving at a pace so quick Virgil had difficulty keeping up. But Remus was especially energetic today, and it got worse the closer they got to their destination. He was practically vibrating out of his skin by the time the park came in sight. 

“There they are!” he exclaimed, pointing to two people standing in the shade of a tree and making conversation. “Jan is the gothy one, the nerd’s all yours.” 

Virgil screeched to a dead stop and grabbed Remus’s elbow. “Dude.”  

“What?” Remus looked at him with raised eyebrows. 

“You didn’t say he was hot!” Virgil snapped. 

“What?” Remus looked bewildered, looking back to the people he’d pointed out. His expression cleared. “Oh, right, I forgot you can be attracted to cis people.” He looked back at Virgil. “I dunno. Make out with him about it?” 

“Jesus Christ—no! I don’t know anything about him, for starters?”

“Fuck first, ask questions later.” Remus grinned. “Or if you don’t want to, then just get over it. People are hot sometimes. No big deal.”

Virgil spluttered for a moment. “That is such terrible advice, please tell me you don’t actually—”

“No, no, I’m marginally smart sometimes, don’t worry about me. But I don’t know what you want from me, dude.” Remus shrugged. “This really seems like a you problem.” 

“I need to mentally prepare myself before I talk to hot people! A warning would have been nice!” Virgil said, hiding in the hood of his hoodie. 

“Mentally prepare yourself now, then,” Remus said pragmatically. “This is really not my fault, I simply am sexier than you at all times and it gives me the power to say no thank you to being attracted to cis people. How was I supposed to know you’d think he was hot? Like, if you get all hot and bothered by glasses and the walking personification of a college textbook, be my guest, but I don’t get it.” 

Virgil groaned. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind, could you shut up about it forever starting now?” 

“Oh, absolutely not, but your complaint is noted,” Remus said. “C’mon, let’s go say hi, some of us actually want to flirt with the people we think are hot.” They grabbed Virgil’s elbow and dragged him over. 

“Remus,” Hot Glasses Boy said cordially (and dammit, he was tall, which was another thing Virgil found attractive). “This is your friend, I assume?” 

“Yeah!” Remus grinned. “Logan, Virgil, Virgil, Logan. Apparently you’re hot. He’s emo. You’re both nerds, you should get along great.” 

“Remus!” Virgil snapped, cheeks going hot with embarrassment. 

“What? What?” Remus demanded, then elbowed past Virgil. “Hiiiii, Janus.” 

Janus raised a singular eyebrow, looking for some reason amused rather than annoyed. “Hello there.” They eyed him up and down. “I like your jacket,” they added, very obviously staring at his chest in a way that Virgil suspected has nothing to do with the jacket. 

Remus grinned and did a little twirl. “Thanks, I decorated it myself,” he said, wiggling his shoulders. “Wanna see me do a sick kickflip?” 

“Sure,” Janus agreed, and allowed Remus to link his arm through theirs and drag them eagerly away in the direction of the skating area, already talking a mile a minute and beaming up at them. 

Which left Virgil alone with this Logan guy and no idea what to talk about. He coughed, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Now that he was up close like this, Logan actually looked familiar, but Virgil couldn’t quite place him. Shit. Should he know him from something? 

“Don’t we have History 104 together?” Logan said, breaking the silence (and saving Virgil from the approximately two dozen different social gaffes he knew he was probably committing by not knowing what to say) all at once.

Virgil breathed out a sigh of relief, because yeah, that was it; this was the guy who sat at the front of the huge lecture hall and always raised his hand (and his voice was unmistakable too, now that he’d spoken; Virgil would have placed him in another minute). “Oh, yeah,” he said. He had no clue how the guy recognized Virgil; it was a big class, and Virgil usually sat by the back. Maybe he noticed Virgil on his way in? Virgil guessed he sat kind of close to the door. It was possible. 

“What do you think of the class?” Logan asked, and for some reason he sounded genuinely curious, not like he was just making small talk for the sake of it. 

Virgil had absolutely skipped two class sessions and napped through another, but he found himself not wanting to admit it. “It’s alright, I guess. The professor’s kind of dry for me, but the readings are okay.” That was more or less true, although it was maybe the most positive spin on his opinion. 

Logan nodded, adjusting his glasses and absorbing Virgil’s words like they were actually important information. “He is a bit long-winded sometimes. I wish he would be clearer about which things he intends to test us on.” 

Virgil nodded vigorously. “Right? Like, what’s up with that? Why is he spending twenty minutes out of the hour telling us about, I don’t know farming practices, or whatever, if he’s just going to say ‘oh, but that stuff won’t be on the test, I just think it’s interesting’ at the end?” 

“Well, it is interesting,” Logan said. (Virgil disagreed, but held his tongue.) “But I do wish he’d be clearer about what he intends for us to be taking away from his lectures ahead of time.” 

Virgil nodded again, and there was a brief silence while he scrambled for something to say. 

He glanced over Logan’s shoulder at the skating area; Janus was sitting on the edge with their legs dangling into the area, watching Remus, who was skateboarding back and forth at a speed that couldn’t be safe. 

“So,” Virgil said, looking back to Logan because he was pretty sure he’d scream if he watched Remus tempt fate any longer, “you’re friends with Remus?” 

Logan made a gesture that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I suppose so. He’s my roommate Roman’s twin, and the two of them spend a lot of time together, so I think I am friends with him by association. I’m much closer with Roman. Not that I don’t enjoy Remus’s company. I simply don’t know them as well yet.” 

“Right, right,” Virgil said. 

“How are you acquainted with them?” Logan asked. 

“Oh, we met at a club during orientation,” Virgil said. “We hang out a lot. He’s pretty chill most of the time.” Well. “Chill” wasn’t really the right word to describe anything Remus did, ever. But it did describe Virgil’s feelings towards him. 

“Ah, I see.” Logan nodded. “Do you know Janus at all?” 

“Not really—I mean, Remus talks about them a ton, but we haven’t really met or anything,” Virgil said. “You do, though, right?” 

“Yes, we were in the same group at orientation, and now we’re friends,” Logan said. “They and I like to deconstruct TV scripts together.” 

That sounded incredibly nerdy, and Virgil wasn’t even sure what it meant. “Wow,” he said, not sure how else to react. “Fun?” 

Logan smiled, and fuck, Virgil had managed to forget he was cute for a minute there, but it was back in full force now. “It’s lots of fun,” he agreed. 

They made some more small talk—majors, hometowns, and so on. Logan actually paid attention to every word Virgil said, and he was surprisingly easy to open up to. He didn’t seem judgemental, instead accepting every word Virgil spoke as important. Virgil was actually starting to feel comfortable talking to him, which was… cool. Remus’s assessment of the way they’d get along evidently hadn’t been too off. 

After a while, Logan looked over his shoulder at Remus and Janus; Remus had coaxed Janus onto the skateboard, and was pushing them back and forth, his hands clasped carefully around their waist and a huge grin spread across his face. 

“Are you planning to try that?” Logan asked Virgil, gesturing at the little building off to the side that was renting out skateboards and safety gear. 

Virgil hesitated. “I don’t know… are you?” he asked. 

Logan made a considering face. “I might. I’ve never been on a skateboard before.” 

“Wait, really?” Virgil asked. He hadn’t in a long time, but he’d been obsessed when he was twelve. He didn’t think that he’d been very good, but it hadn’t been for a lack of trying. 

Logan shook his head. “No, never.” 

“Well, we’ve got to change that,” Virgil found himself saying in spite of all the common sense that screams at him to not do something with such a high likelihood of making him look like a fool in front of a cute boy who was also turning out to be surprisingly easy to talk to, and thus a potential friend, which was honestly way more valuable than cuteness. 

Logan looked pleased, though, like he’d been hoping Virgil would agree, so Virgil couldn’t find it in himself to regret the decision. “Together, then?” he inquired. 

“Sure,” Virgil agreed, and they made their way into the building. 

They rented a pair of skateboards and two sets of safety gear for the minimum time—thirty minutes, at $15 apiece, which was definitely higher than Remus had implied but Virgil did luckily have the cash to spare—and made their way out to the skating area. 

Remus was now skating in tight, fast circles around Janus, who was holding perfectly still and calm at the lowest point of one of the curves built into the area. Virgil was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be in the area without a skateboard of their own, but he also wasn’t about to tell them off and bring down the wrath of Remus upon himself. The two seemed engrossed in conversation, anway. 

Logan led Virgil to a completely different space from that which Remus and Janus were taking up. Virgil was grateful; he didn’t feel like being made fun of, no matter how good-naturedly, by Remus at this time, and while Janus was likely interesting enough to keep Remus from following them over here, they would never have passed up the opportunity if Logan and Virgil had stayed anywhere nearby. 

Logan stared at the skateboard he’d set down before himself on a flat space, looking vaguely perplexed. “You just climb on, right?” he inquired. 

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “You can, like, kick off with your foot to move, and stuff. Kind of like riding a bike.” He instantly regretted the comparison, and tacked on a hasty, “Only, not that much.” 

Logan made a small “huh” noise. “Interesting.” He cautiously put a foot on the skateboard and tested his weight on it. “Oh, I do not like that.” 

Virgil chuckled a little, tugging at the strap of his helmet to make sure it was securely fastened. “Yeah, it’s a pretty weird feeling, huh?” 

“The ground should be stable,” Logan said emphatically, staring at the skateboard that he was still barely resting one foot on with an expression on his face like it had personally wronged him. 

Virgil snickered. “Can’t say I disagree with you there, buddy. But seriously, it’s not too bad once you get used to it.” He hopped onto his own skateboard as if to prove his point, but he hadn’t realized he’d set it up on the barest incline, and as soon as his second foot left the ground it rolled right out from under him. 

“Are you okay?” Logan gasped, reaching to offer him a hand up. 

Virgil half laughed, because that was the best option just at this moment, trying his best to ignore the wish to go hide in a hole in the ground until everyone left and then never talk to Logan ever again. “I guess I deserved that,” he said, trying to shrug it off. “Got too cocky.” 

“You still shouldn’t get hurt! Are you okay?” Logan insisted, hands fluttering vaguely like he was resisting an instinct to check Virgil for injuries. 

Virgil’s tailbone was a little sore, which he was absolutely not going to admit to Logan under any circumstances when he’d only known the guy for half an hour, but aside from that—“I’m fine,” he insisted, brushing himself off. “Uh, thanks for the concern, though. I appreciate it,” he added awkwardly. 

“Are you sure? You—” Logan began. 

There was a loud cry of “FUCK!” from just out of sight that was undeniably Remus’s voice, followed by a crashing noise. 

“Oh, fuck indeed,” Virgil said under his breath, and scooped up his skateboard. “Come on.” 

Remus was rolling over as Virgil and Logan came into view of him; Janus was already kneeling by his side, worry plain to see on their face. 

“It was a very cool fall, don’t worry,” Remus yelled over at Virgil, pushing themself up on their elbows. “Ow, fuck.” 

“That is not the part I’m worried about, idiot!” Virgil called back as Remus gingerly poked at his knees, which were both scraped and bleeding. 

“No no, I’m fine, leave me alone, Virge,” Remus insisted hastily, making some complicated hand waving motions and glancing meaningfully at Janus. 

Janus looked very put out by this. “No, you know what, I’m inclined to let him scold you! Why would you not wear knee pads?” they demanded, grabbing Remus’s elbow, helping them to their feet, and guiding them to the side of the rink with motions far gentler than their words. 

Virgil paused, watching to see if Janus needed help, but now that it seemed they had it under control much more inclined to give into Remus’s wishes and let them handle it. 

“Because anarchy,” Remus said, grinning up at Janus and leaning all his weight on them, legs shaking slightly. 

Janus pushed him to sit on a bench with a fury that still managed to be gentle. “First of all, that is not what anarchy is, and second of all, even if it were, that’s still an objectively stupid decision to—”

“Oh, no, what a terrible mistake I’ve made,” Remus said with a shit-eating grin that told Virgil he knew the definition of anarchy perfectly well. “If only there were a smart, sexy nonbinary person around who knew all about anarchy, who could tell me what it really is while they tenderly bandage my wounds!” They cast themself back on the bench dramatically, draping the back of their hand across their forehead. 

Janus flushed slightly. “You could have just asked,” they said, and though their voice still had an annoyed bite it was softer now. “You didn’t have to get hurt before I gave you more attention.” They sank to their knees on the ground in front of him, examining the scrapes on his knees. 

Remus sat back up, reached out, and cupped Janus’s cheek in his hand, leaning far into their personal space. “Trust me, babe,” he said, and then something too low for Virgil to catch that made Janus flush a brilliant shade of red. 

Remus grinned and sat back, his fingers slowly dragging against Janus’s skin as he removed his hand from their face. “I have a first aid kit somewhere in here,” he said in a more normal tone, digging in his pockets and procuring a small white plastic box. He hesitated, eyes flicking to Janus. “If you don’t want—”

Janus rolled their eyes and shook their head. “Give me that.” They grabbed the kit and flipped it open, pinning down Remus’s legs with their elbows. “Don’t move.” 

Remus only rested his cheek on his fist, gazing down at Janus with a look on his face far softer and fonder than Virgil thought they’d ever admit to, should he call them out on it. 

“So,” Logan said in a low voice to Virgil, “please help me out here. Are they dating? I can’t tell.” 

“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who’s unclear on that,” Virgil responded in a similar tone, going to go pick up Remus’s abandoned skateboard. “I—I don’t think so? From the way Remus talked about this beforehand, I would have been sure not. But then they—” He gestured vaguely at Remus and Janus. 

“Exactly!” Logan agreed. “I wasn’t even sure if Janus liked them back before we got here, from how they talked about him.” 

Virgil snorted, watching Janus gently sponging Remus’s knees clean with a shockingly tender expression on their face, which up until now had been haughty. “That must have been a trip.” 

“You have no idea.” Logan shook his head. “Alright. I will continue to allow it to be a frustrating mystery, since you don’t seem to have the answer either. Do you wish to attempt skateboarding again before we have to return these?” 

Virgil glanced at his watch; there were only seven minutes left. “I dunno. It feels like Remus getting hurt kind of killed the mood for it a little, you know?” 

“I can understand that,” Logan agreed. 

They checked their skateboards and safety gear back in (Virgil deposited Remus’s skateboard next to the bench he was on as they went), and then made their way back outside. The sun was starting to reach just the sort of angle in the sky where it was annoying no matter which direction you were facing, so Logan and Virgil retreated to the shade of one of the nearby trees. 

“Did you know,” Logan began, examining a fallen leaf on the ground, “that you can actually eat magnolia blooms?” 

“Wait, oh my god, yeah!” Virgil sat up. “I haven’t done it before, but I really like making preserves.” It was a good activity for days when his anxiety just wouldn’t go away no matter what he did, because it took a long time and a lot of hands-on work that always helped to take himself out of his thoughts for a while. 

Logan lit up, adjusting his glasses and peering at Virgil with keen interest in his dark brown eyes. “Really? That’s fascinating! Tell me more!” 

That was honestly all it took to get Virgil to start explaining his hobby, and if he’d thought Logan had been paying attention to him when he talked before, that was nothing compared to this eager interest to learn that Logan was now displaying. He asked just the right questions to egg Virgil on and on, and occasionally interjected facts of his own, some of which Virgil knew and some of which he didn’t. It sounded like Logan didn’t have much actual experience with preserving food, but a decent framework of theoretical knowledge. 

“I wish I could see what that looks like in practice,” Logan said at one point, as Virgil explained the way fruit jellying worked. 

“I mean, I bet there’s videos on YouTube,” Virgil said thoughtfully. 

“Yes, but it’s not the same, you know?” 

Virgil turned this over. “Tell you what. Jellying is a lot of work, and I don’t think we could really do it in a dorm kitchen, but here. Give me your number. I’m down to show you some kind of preserving method. I’m sure we can figure out a way to make it work with what we’ve got.” He dug his phone out and opened it to a new contact page. 

Logan’s eyes widened. “Really?” 

“For sure, dude.” Virgil handed him the phone and watched as he punched his number in. “It’s been a while since I did any kitchen work anyway, I could use the destressor.” 

“I would love that, thank you!” Logan said with an enthusiasm that was absolutely catching. 

Virgil chuckled. “No problem.” As he reaccepted the phone from Logan, he noticed the time at the top of the screen. “Oh, shit, it’s nearly three. Do you have anywhere to be?” 

Logan blinked. “Really? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long at all.” 

“I know, right?” Virgil agreed with a small laugh. Talking to Logan was surprisingly enjoyable, given how rare it was for Virgil to really like the company of new people.

“I do have a paper due tonight that I haven’t started yet,” Logan said thoughtfully.

“Dude, what? Oh my god.” Virgil felt the onset of deadline panic setting in, even though it wasn’t even his own deadline. “What do you mean, you haven’t started?”  

“Oh, it’s fine.” Logan waved his concern away. “It’s only three pages, I can do it no problem by then.” 

“But, like, research? Drafts?” 

“No, I already know it all. I can find sources to back me up easily. Trust me, I know what I can and can’t get away with when writing a paper. I only need to worry about drafts and research when it’s five pages or more. Anything less than that I can write the day it’s due and still get an A.” Logan spoke with an easy confidence that would be annoying in almost anyone else, but that somehow couldn’t quite manage to put Virgil off. Not after the absolute delight Logan had shown over the last half hour as he learned from Virgil. 

“If you say so. I still hate that,” Virgil told him. 

“That is what most people say when they learn about my homework methods.” Logan nodded. “Should we gather up our companions—oh.” His eyes widened as he looked over Virgil’s shoulder. “Um.” 

Virgil turned to look too. “Wow. Uh.” 

Remus and Janus were—well, to put it bluntly, they were making out. Much more extensively than was probably appropriate, given the public setting. Remus had Janus backed against a wall, with their legs around his waist as he held them up and kissed them, sloppy and desperate and gleeful, like he was on a mission to map and memorize the shape of their mouth. Janus was clinging to him tightly and kissing back like they’d never get another chance to. 

“Um,” Logan repeated again, frantically looking anywhere but at their friends. “Well. That is. Something.” 

Virgil laughed a little, also looking away. “Yeah… I mean. I guess now our question about dating is maybe answered?” 

“I hope so,” Logan said fervently. “However, just at this moment, I feel a strong inclination to, ah, pretend I don’t know either of them.” He chuckled, but Virgil got the distinct sense he was only half joking. 

Virgil snickered. “I mean, I feel like they’d deserve it at this point if we deserted them. Want to head back to campus together?” 

Logan perked up. “Really?” 

“Sure, dude. You seem pretty cool.” Virgil offered an awkward fistbump, and after staring wide-eyed at it for a brief second, Logan returned it. 

“You seem cool as well,” he said. “Shall we?” 

“Let’s do it.” Virgil got to his feet and followed Logan to the bus stop.

Virgil wasn’t normally one to get his hopes up, but he hoped this Logan guy would stick around for a while. He seemed like exactly the sort of person Virgil could have an amazing friendship with.

Taglist: @fivehargreeves05 

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Green-Eyed Monster

This is a sequel to Water Seeks Its Own Level, although you probably don’t have to read that one for this one to make sense. It’s set a few months after the events of that story. I originally intended to write for someone new but I am just totally smitten with Eddie. He called me back to him. 

Pairing: Eddie Kingston x OFC

Word count: 3,836

Content advisory: a healthy dose of smut and cursing

“Son of a bitch!” You jerk your hand back, wincing in pain and you smack the side of the toaster oven, as if it’s the appliance’s fault you haven’t yet figured out that food coming out of the oven is hot. To make things worse, you actually feel a little guilty for taking your anger out on the inanimate object. You’re in a bad mood. The toaster oven is just the latest thing to make your day worse. 

You run some cold water on your hand before you go back for another attempt at removing the leftover pizza slice that you don’t even want but you figure you should eat something because you’ve poured a couple of beer down your gullet and if you don’t eat something, you’re going to get a headache. 

So you gnaw joylessly at your pizza slice, trying not to notice that reheating it has not made it taste fresher than the three days it’s been in your refrigerator. None of this would have happened, of course, if you’d just gone out with the rest of the crew like you’d assumed you would. There was a Korean barbecue place that a few of the AEW gang had heard good things about and finally someone had taken it upon themselves to get a side room reserved so that you could all go together and have a good time. You’d been looking forward to it. 

But earlier in the day, you’d found out that the group that was going included Eddie, along with his new so-called family: the Butcher, the Blade, and the Bunny, also known as Andy, Braxton, and Allie. It shouldn’t have bothered you. They’d known each other a long time. You knew them all well. They’d all been bugging you to come along whenever they were going out together, or at least they had until recently. 

As things too often did for you, it came down to Eddie. After he’d shown up in AEW, the two of you had rekindled the fuck-buddy thing you’d had going when you were both on the indies. The problem was that now you weren’t just hooking up when you happened to be on the same tour or show: you were together every week, living in the same city, working the same schedule. So your casual, no-strings-attached thing had become a very frequent thing. It had become a leaving stuff in each other’s apartments thing. It had become a casual understanding of at least one night of the weekend together thing. 

What it hadn’t become was a relationship, at least not in the articulated, public, monogamous sense. You didn’t have anyone else in your life. You didn’t want anyone else in your life. You’d spent years telling yourself that Eddie was just someone you could go to for a good time in the sack, and even though you were aware that he always stirred up feelings in you that went beyond a fallback booty call, you kept telling yourself that was all it was. 

Now that the two of you were actually stable in terms of work and living space, though, you’d started to wonder if maybe you did want things to be a bit more stable with Eddie as well. Although you’d never discussed your status, you didn’t have anyone else in your life and you didn’t want anyone else in your life. Even though you were surrounded by beautiful people at work, people who had their shit far more together than Eddie Kingston ever would, it was like they didn’t really exist. You didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself. If it was going to happen, it would come out naturally, by which you meant that he’d have to get around to bringing it up. 

Things had been fine until recently, until Eddie had taken it upon himself to reunite Braxton with his estranged wife Allie, the Bunny, so that they could have each other’s backs. At least, that’s what he said he was doing. But it actually seemed that Allie was spending most of her time with Eddie. He was the one on television calling her “the beautiful Bunny” and taking credit for wooing her back to the fold. He convinced her to join them. He was the one she seemed loyal to. Even backstage, when the four of them were around each other, Allie always seemed to be hanging off Eddie’s arm, laughing extra loudly at his jokes, and insisting that he come along wherever she was going. It made your blood boil. 

You didn’t say anything because it wasn’t like you had reason to think that Eddie wasn’t going to have anyone else in his life. And you were even sure if he did, because cuckolding his friend right in front of his face would be bold even for him. You’d gone out with the group of them a couple of times but you’d felt nauseous from jealousy, watching him talk about how great it was that they were all working together again. 

So you’d ended up begging off and just spending time with Eddie when you could be alone. More recently, you’d just started avoiding him because thinking that he was leaving your bed to have a quick shower and then run off to another woman had you crying your eyes out on several occasions. You never said anything, you just stopped returning his texts and stayed clear of him at work. And after a while, he’d stopped messaging and trying to talk to you. Things were over. 

You throw the remainder of the pizza in the garbage. Thinking about everything that’s happened in this weird, hopeless thing with him makes you feel rejected and miserable all over again. You miss him. A lot. But now it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything more with you, that he wants to keep things open, and you know you can’t deal with that. 

The doorbell cuts through the fog of frustration and self-pity, startling you so much that you give a little yelp. You old place had one of those systems when the bell was hooked up to your phone but this one had a buzzer that sounded like an aircraft engine and you didn’t feel like you were ever going to get used to it. 

“Hello?” You mumble, hoping that it isn’t another homeless person looking to sleep in the hallway downstairs. 

“It’s me, can I come up?”

He doesn’t even have to say his name because you’d know that almost cartoonish accent anywhere. It figures that he’d just show up unannounced after eleven, like nothing had been weird between you. Maybe for him, things hadn’t been weird at all. 

“Yeah, sure.” You press the release to open the front door and wait, pacing a little and trying to stay calm until you hear a knock on your door. 

And when you open it, there’s Eddie, his face and jacket sprinkled with rain, sporting a fresh-looking bruise on his left eye that he turns to try to hide it. 

“We haven’t hung out in a while,” he grunts, his eyes a little suspicious and resentful. 

“True. Guess we’ve both been busy.”

You motion for him to come inside, quietly pleased that he remembers to take his boots off. You reach over to take his jacket so that you can hang it up and he looks almost offended. 

“I know where it goes,” he snaps, opening the closet and putting it on a hanger himself. 

You grip his jaw and turn his face so that you can get a better look at the damaged eye. 

“What happened?”

He steps back, pouting like a child who’s been caught doing something he knows he isn’t supposed to. 

“We went out to a bar after the restaurant. Archer offered to buy me a drink, and I said I wanted to buy him a drink. I guess it got out of hand.”

“Two friends try to buy a round at the bar turns into a fistfight. That is so you.” 

You can’t help but laugh at your own joke because it is such an Eddie thing but he doesn’t seem amused. 

“You got something I can put on this?” He grumbles. 

“I have a couple of ice packs in the freezer. Come on.”

He follows you over to the open kitchen with its little breakfast counter while you start lifting frozen entrees out of the way to find the artificial ice. 

“So how come you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I don’t know,” you lie. “My stomach was a bit upset and I probably wouldn’t have been much fun.”

He gives a low cackle. “You just don’t like it when you can’t have me all to yourself.”

You pause from digging through the back of the freezer to shoot him a scornful look. 

“You just want me there so you can have a larger audience,” you retort, standing and producing the ice pack. 

“Who said I wanted you there?”

You slap the cold pack into his cheek, giving a cruel little smile when he winces at the impact. 

“Thank god you never decided to become a nurse,” he growls. 

You can feel his eyes digging into you, searching for an opening. He knows all your fault lines so well, but he knows that there’s something going on with you that he hasn’t seen before. Your body twists under his scrutiny, trying to make it less obvious that you’re avoiding meeting his gaze. 

“So what’s up with you anyway?” he asks, still studying you too closely for comfort.

“Not much. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine with me.”

“What?” You finally look back at him, eyes wide with fake surprise. “Did I say something that made you think I was pissed at you? Did I do something to get you pissed off?”

“Come on. You know what I mean. You barely talk to me at work, you never go out if you think I’m gonna be there. You won’t answer when I message you, or it’s two words long like I’m annoying you. I thought things were going ok with us for once.”

“They were. They are,” you counter desperately. 

He places the ice pack on the counter and arches his brows at you. When you reach to remove it, he grabs your wrist and pulls you between his body and the counter, shaking his head as he presses it hard against yours. 

His hands graze down to your hips and under your shorts, gripping both of your ass cheeks hard and you feel yourself melt against him, as you always do. You incline your head forward until your lips are against his, your arms winding around his neck, and you let yourself fall into the kiss you’d told yourself you were going to avoid. Everything that Eddie does with that mouth of his is magic and every second you spend locked in that embrace, you get drawn further in. 

“I missed this,” he growls softly, giving a hard squeeze for emphasis.

It’s almost painful to pull yourself back from what you want so much but if you don’t extricate yourself now, you’ll be going crazy over him forever, so you force yourself to do it. 

You try to pivot a little but he has you locked in place. 

“Please, just let me put the cold pack back in the fridge.”

“No,” he whispers, giving you an evil little smile before nipping at the skin of your neck. “That’s gonna stay right there and melt and make a mess until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“That’s not fair!” You whine, trying fruitlessly to reach back so you can at least throw the stupid in thing in the sink. 

“Kinda seems like the Princess has decided she’s too good for me again.”

His lips lock onto the base of your throat and you main loudly. He’s doing it on purpose, tweaking your sensitive spots with his caresses and his words. 

“You know that’s not true, Eddie.”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you were afraid someone might find out that I was your dirty little secret.”

“It’s not that, I don’t give a fuck who knows.”

That draws a guttural laugh from him and the sound makes your stomach flip. You don’t offer any resistance when he eases your tank top over your head and trails kisses down the center of your chest. 

“So tell me,” he insists, twisting a nipple hard between his fingers, “why I haven’t been getting any of this.”

“Why does it have to be something wrong with me? You’re the one with your new faction or family or whatever, making all sorts of plans and wooing Allie to join you.”

He lifts his head and as soon as you see the smirk on his face, you know you’re done for. 

“Wooing Allie?”

“I don’t know what you call it. You got her to ditch what she was doing and go back with you guys.”

“I call it talking to my friend’s wife and making her work things out with him. That’s not what most people would call ‘wooing’, princess.”

“Whatever, I just meant that you’ve been busy so maybe I’m the one who should feel neglected.”

You fold your arms in front of your chest because the only thing worse than trying to salvage your stupid comment is trying to do it half naked while he gives you that amused look. 

“I don’t believe it. You’re fucking jealous.”

“No,” you whine. 

“Oh yes you are. You think there’s something going on with me and Allie.”

“I guess it seems like you have a bit of a thing for her, at least. You’re always talking about how beautiful she is and all that.”

“Princess, has anyone explained to you that not everything you see in wrestling is real?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just said that you’d been busy and-“

He kisses you again, little ripples of laughter coming out as he does. You return the kiss, diving in and hoping that you can just shut him up and make him forget what you’ve said, and to shut yourself up before you say anything worse. 

“I like this,” he chuckles. “You’re jealous because you think I’m hot for someone else.”

“Fuck off, I never said that.”

The two of you continue kissing, more passionately and hungrier than before, but the next time he pulls back to catch his breath, he goes back to his new favourite subject. 

“I am never letting you live this one down.”

“You can leave any time, you smug asshole.”

He chuckles again, his hand sliding under your clothes, between your legs. He buries his face against you, his lips pressed against your ear as he drags one finger, ever so lightly, from the back of your slit all the way up to your throbbing little nub, repeating the gesture and using his hip to hold you still and stop you from thrusting against him to get more friction. He just keeps up with that ghost of a touch, humming with pleasure the more he can feel your frustration. 

“You want me to go? Really? Because it feels like maybe you’re not so sure.”

You just whimper in need, while at the same time trying to force the desire you’re feeling out of your body. 

He lightly strokes and taps at your clit as he whispers to you, “I like that you’re jealous. But you need to tell me these things, not deprive both of us, ya silly brat.”

His attention then shifts, two thick fingers swirling at your entrance while the two of you bite and lick at each other. You hold out as long as you can, which isn’t long at all, before begging. 

“Don’t do that. Stop teasing.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” he rasps, grinning as you thrust against him, trying to force some more pressure. 

“Fuck me. Stop talking and fuck me through the mattress and into the goddamned floor.”

He lifts you up by your thighs, smiling when you wrap your arms around him to secure yourself as he carries you to your bed. As he places you down, he removes the rest of your clothing in one smooth movement before discarding his own. You kiss playfully for a moment before you tap his thigh. 

“Get up here,” you order. 

And he is most happy to oblige, kneeling over your body and letting you take his thick cock in hand, easing the swollen tip past your lips, sucking and licking while you slowly move your hand along his shaft, occasionally letting your thumb flick delicately along the seam, relishing the yelps this gesture never fails to elicit from him.  

“So you want that even if I’ve been giving it to another woman?”

You growl but the vibrations only increase his pleasure and he starts to thrust a little, pushing himself further into your mouth and throat. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” he purrs, “I’ll always have some use for you.”

At that, you punch him hard in the hip and rake your nails down his ass. He eases down your body, sparkling, mischievous eyes meeting yours. It’s like there’s nothing else in the whole world for you but you know better than to say so. 

“You know what you need to do, Kingston? You need to shut the fuck up.” You push on his shoulders to direct him where you want him to go, and while he takes his time getting there, the journey involves him working his way down your body, like he’s worshipping you. 

“This what you want?” he asks, licking at your soaked flesh. 

“Mm-hmm.” You squirm in anticipation, suspecting that he might try to draw this out longer, so when he dives in and starts fucking you with his tongue, lips and teeth, you let out a loud moan and clench at the bedsheet with both fists. You’re already so close.”

“Lucky for you I have such good stamina,” he hisses. “So I can handle all of these women I’m fucking.”

“You’re still talking,” you groan. “Why are you still talking?”

He gives a harsh bite on the inside of your thigh. “Look at me.”

You glare down at him but immediately feel a little unnerved by the deadly serious look in his eyes. 

“You know damn well there aren’t any other women. I haven’t fucked another woman, haven’t kissed- hell I haven’t even beat off thinking about another woman in months. So let me enjoy this for a few hours until you go back to thinking you’re too good for me.”

With that he goes right back at it, letting you feel the full skill of that constantly moving mouth. You let yourself go, feeling for the first time in ages like you have exactly what you want, what you need, right here in your bed doing everything to make you happy. Your whole body trembles in ecstasy, the tide rising steadily within you, your whines and moans growing ever louder. 

“I love you.”

It slips out so naturally that you almost don’t notice that you’ve said it until he pulls back. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Get back down there!” You push his head but he shakes you off and now you’re aware you have a problem. 

“Oh no, I want you to repeat what you just said.”

“I don’t remember,” you whine. 

“Sure you do.” He moves to his side next to you, running his fingers over your skin so that you stay worked up, frustrated, and desperate. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“No,” he scolds, “that wasn’t what you said.”

You exhale in exasperation. 

“Let me get you started. You said ‘I’... come on, repeat after me.”

“What makes you think I even meant it?”

“Well you have to tell me whether you did or not, don’t you, princess?”

His finger traces a curved line between your hip bones that only accentuates your overwhelming, unmet need. 

“I’m not hearing anything,” he coos, flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

“Fine!” you roar, hitting your breaking point. “I said that I love you, and yeah, I meant it.”

Grinning, he moves back down your body. 

“Now was that so hard?” he asks just as he buries his face between your legs again. 

You’d love to give a sharp retort but the second he’s giving you what you want, every other thought leaves your mind. You are one pulsating nerve waiting for release and he is expertly guiding you there. Within minutes you’re screaming his name, tears leaking from your eyes as you come down from the best orgasm you think you’ve ever had. 

By the time you can open your eyes, he’s hovering over you, the tip of his cock throbbing against the lips of your pussy. 

“Say it again.”

You groan a little and push against him but it doesn’t work. 

“Say it again and look at me this time.”

His incredible eyes bear down on you and it’s very different than before. This time, you can’t hide the truth of it behind sarcasm and annoyance. This time he can see into you. You’re vulnerable. 

“Come on.” He prods at your face with his nose and lips before once again locking you with that killer stare. “Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” you stammer, trying to read his reaction and more than a little afraid of what that might be. 

He moans a little and pushes himself part way inside you, rocking his hips slowly. 

“Again,” he rasps. 

“Don’t be like this. I said it. I said it twice. What the hell do you want?”

He grabs a handful of your hair and thrusts his face even closer to yours. “Five years. Five fucking years I’ve been waiting for you to come around. So I want to get the most out of this that I can.”

“Eddie Kingston, I love you.”

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and thrusts into you harder. 

“Are you going to say it back?” 

“Sure,” he laughs. “When I feel like it.”

He pounds into you with increased vigor, laughing more when he sees your face contort somewhere between fury and ecstasy, your pussy contracting involuntarily around him. 

“You are such a bastard,” you yell, fighting the second orgasm that’s about to overtake you. 

The phrase is barely past your lips when your whole body spasms, pulling him right along with you. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he pants after a couple of minutes. “I am a bastard. But you finally managed to figure out I’m the bastard you want.”

You can’t help but laugh, wondering if he really did know ages before you did that you were in love with him, or if he was just hopeful. You run your hands over the back of his head and pull on his earlobe a little with your teeth. 

“God help me,” you whisper.

[isamijoo]

Can You See Me

Written for @amortentiaboys (again! lol). Betaed by @fw00shy! Also many thanks to @orange-peony & @vukovich.

Features Unspeakable!Draco in a Soulmate AU.

WC: ~2.6k.

Rating: Teen and Up

A/N: The fic takes place in another realm where they are 'souls' while their physical bodies remain in the 'real world'. Some lines are inspired by Doctor Who.

READ ON AO3

~~~

If Auror Harry Potter had to describe his relationship with Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, seven years after the war, he would use the phrase "in limbo": neither here nor there. Frustratingly stuck somewhere between nothing and everything. Friends? Yes, but not really. Boyfriends? Maybe, but not quite. Perplexing? Absolutely.

Hermione, an Unspeakable herself, had a theory that the problem lied in their inability to communicate effectively. Harry was notoriously bad with words while Draco became quiet and subdued after the trials and induction into the Department of Mysteries.

Except when Draco was drunk.

The first time Harry and Draco kissed, they had just solved their first case together. Harry dragged Draco to a pub, and after several rounds of drinks in a booth, the alcohol loosened Draco's tongue and reduced his inhibitions. Before they knew it, they were making out right in the booth, unhidden, out in the open for anyone to see.

One week later, Harry chanced upon Draco at the Auror Office when the blond came to submit a report. Harry caught his eye and shortly afterwards, found himself slammed against the wall in a broom cupboard by a charming Unspeakable, who was crafty with a Silencing Charm.

They fell into a pattern. They kissed, bit, and groped each other. Although inappropriate, Harry loved these private moments with Draco. He often glimpsed Draco smiling dreamily between their kisses, grey eyes gazing at him with an adoration that never failed to make Harry's heart beat faster.

They never brought each other home. They never went on dates. They never addressed what they did, but not due to any lack of effort from Harry. Whenever he tried to talk about it, Draco would stare at him in trepidation and despair, as though Harry was going to curse him or strike him with a sword. Then he would use whatever Unspeakable skills he had to escape and disappear.

Did Harry find Draco infuriating as hell? Yes, very much so.

Did he also love the git to death? Utterly and completely.

So when Hermione barged into the Auror Office and hurried to his desk as though chased by lightning, screaming "Malfoy is in trouble!", what would you expect Harry to do?

~~~

Harry landed on two feet in a shallow puddle of mud.

He quickly surveyed his surroundings. He was standing in a clearing in the middle of a vast field of yellow wheat. Earthy brown mountains lined the horizon, and a strong breeze chilled him down to his bones, despite his thick Auror uniform and robes. As he looked down to inspect his boots, he realised that his glasses had vanished, but his vision was perfectly clear.

Harry brought his hands to his face, just to make sure. A finger graced his forehead and — his breath hitched — touched the smooth skin over the spot where his lightning bolt scar should have been.

The scars at the back of his left hand were gone too.

He hastily patted his chest, stomach, arms, and thighs. Aside from his eyesight and scars, his physique was unchanged. He still wore the same uniform he had on at St Mungo’s before he blacked out.

As he got his bearing, he felt the air chill and the wind blow stronger. He heard footsteps approaching and immediately grabbed his wand by his hip.

About five metres from where Harry stood, a tall wall of wheat parted and out walked Draco Malfoy, decked in his elegant navy blue Unspeakable uniform. His skin was pale and there were dark circles below his eyes, but he appeared unharmed. His usually immaculate blonde hair was slightly tousled, thanks to the breeze.

“Potter?” Draco yelled, a hand shielding his squinted eyes from the harsh wind. His dark robes billowed out around his knees “What are you doing here?”

With a grunt, Harry tucked away his wand and trudged across the muddy soil until he reached more solid ground, taking note that Draco was also moving in his direction. “Saving your arse, obviously. What the fuck were you thinking? Sending your soul to another dimension?” Harry shrieked. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“A place where souls transit between life and death,” Draco replied, not having to shout now that they were within arm's length. “Some people call this place Bardo.”

Anger burned in the pit of Harry’s stomach, yearning to burst. Didn’t Draco have any idea how worried he made Harry?

But his desire to scold vanished when Draco asked, “Why did the Department of Mysteries send you, an Auror? Why not another Unspeakable?”

Harry breathed heavily. The wind was picking up and he figured they should get moving, but he couldn’t move, not when Draco was gazing at him curiously. “They couldn’t locate your soul. They needed me to find you.”

Pale eyebrows rose quizzically. “Why you?”

Harry gazed into his cool grey eyes. “You know why,” he muttered. “Apparently I’m your soulmate.”

Draco’s jaw went slack; no words came out as he stared unblinkingly at Harry’s face.

“Were you planning on telling me at some point?” Harry asked softly.

“Do you have a way to get us back?” Draco enquired instead.

Harry reached inside his shirt and pulled out a silver medallion that fit nicely in his palm. At the centre of the medallion rested a small piece of jade stone, which now glowed red. Hermione had told him to wait until the stone turned green before attempting any more dimension-hopping.

With a small squeak of excitement and relief, Draco grabbed the medallion with both hands. It was still connected to a chain around Harry’s neck, so Draco stood close to the Auror as he ran his fingers over the jade stone.

“A Dimension Transporter, perfected by Granger herself. This is powered by your magic,” Draco said almost reverently. “I can feel it.”

Unable to help himself, Harry took the other wizard’s hand and held it to his chest. “I'm glad you're alright. Don't scare me like this.”

“I’m not here by choice, Potter,” Draco clarified, rolling his eyes as he slowly pulled his hand out of Harry’s grasp. “I suppose now that you’re involved, I can explain how I got here, while we wait for the Transporter to recharge.”

Suddenly a strong gust of wind blasted around them. Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him towards the direction he came from. Harry followed Draco into the wheat field, but as soon as he stepped between the tall stalks, his surroundings changed. Gone were the yellow scenery, replaced by a vast landscape of a snowy mountain valley.

Draco appeared unperturbed by the sudden change in climate. The wind was still strong here, though, so Harry obediently followed Draco as the latter trekked up a small hill.

At the top of the hill was a small hut, in which they took shelter from the harsh elements. Inside, Draco had arranged several flat stones to masquerade as a stool and a table. On the table sat an emerald green sphere the size of a Remembrall. A small key-shaped trinket suspended inside the misty orb. Numerous narrow cracks ran around the surface of the sphere.

Harry had seen the sphere before, minus the cracks. He was the one who found the sphere a few months ago during a raid. The sphere was unimportant to the case at hand, but Harry had a suspicious feeling about it, and after blasting it with every curse-detection spell he knew, he wanted to destroy it. But Robards stopped him and sent it to the Mysterious Artifacts Division, more colloquially known as MAD.

The idea of the sphere falling into Draco’s hands and potentially harming him made Harry angry again.

“Why do you have that?” Harry’s voice trembled with barely disguised fury as he kept his eyes on the orb.

With a sigh, Draco went to a corner of the hut and kicked a large rock the size of Quaffle to Harry’s feet. “Do you have a wand?”

Nodding, Harry transfigured the rock into a proper stool, complete with a cushion. He then did the same to Draco’s stone-stool. Draco muttered his gratitude as they both settled down around the table, the sphere glowing ominously.

“The people at MAD sent this to my department last month,” Draco explained. “My senior colleagues knew right away that this sphere was previously used by Dark Wizards in the seventh century to extract a person’s soul from their body, basically leaving behind an empty shell.”

Any talk about souls — extracting, separating, severing — always reminded Harry of Horcruxes. Even when Hermione was explaining to him the plan to save Draco by sending Harry’s soul after him, Harry had been uneasy. Their real bodies — both his and Draco’s — were lying in a ward in St Mungo’s, lifeless and dependent on magic to keep them alive. “Sounds like something you should stay away from.”

Draco’s eyes flickered over Harry’s face for a second before he dropped his gaze. “It’s my job to figure out how it works. I managed to dismantle it. See these cracks?” He pointed at the lines over the sphere, careful not to touch it. “I was able to decode the spell inside it, layer by layer, until I reached the key inside. When I touched it with my magic, I blacked out and woke up here.”

“And that thing followed you here?” Harry raised an unbelieving eyebrow, but it explained why nobody mentioned finding any cursed objects around Draco’s unconscious body.

“I suppose,” Draco replied, uncertain. “Maybe it’s pissed at me for taking it apart, and wants to make sure no one in the physical world can use it to rescue me.”

Harry leaped to his feet and pointed his wand at the sphere. “Reducto! Evanesco!”

The sphere exploded into a hundred pieces before vanishing into thin air.

“There," Harry said contently, dropping back onto the stool. "I should have done that as soon as I found it.”

“Good job, Potter,” Draco said sarcastically, grimacing. “Please remember next time you destroy my projects, that I’m the one who has to write the paperwork.”

“It could have killed you!” Harry protested.

Draco shrugged flippantly and rested his elbows on the now-empty table, purposely avoiding looking at Harry.

A few minutes passed where no one spoke. The wind outside grew more violent, transforming into a full-on blizzard.

Harry glanced at the red glow of the medallion around his neck and pulled his stool closer to the other man. "Draco, we need to talk."

Draco's nimble fingers tapped the surface of the stone absentmindedly. "If you say so. It's not like I can go anywhere."

Now being given the chance to address their relationship, Harry didn't know where to start. So he started with the most recent development. "Did you know we're soulmates?"

"Yes. I'm a member of the Soul Squad. We study anything related to the human soul. The Soulmate Detection spell is a simple spell, created by the Unspeakables themselves.” Draco paused before adding. “Of course, I've tried it on myself."

"When did you find out?" was the next question, loaded.

Draco studied Harry's face silently for a few seconds before answering, "After our kiss at the pub." He tucked strands of blond hair behind his ears and cleared his throat. "I was just curious. There is no benefit in knowing your soulmate, after all. It's old magic; interesting to study, but practically, it isn't useful."

"Now, hang on." Harry's own throat constricted. "Not useful? Your colleagues spent 48 hours going round in circles, no idea how to find you, until one of them suggested the soulmate route. They taught me a spell to make me aware of the soulmate connection, and then I could locate you easily." He gestured at the medallion around his neck, pointedly ignoring the green glow of the jade. "I only needed one jump."

Draco gazed forlornly at the device resting against Harry's chest. "Well, it's not typical to find oneself in a limbo world and needing to be rescued, is it?”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"What would that change, Potter?" Draco snapped as his hands started gesturing wildly. "I know how your childhood and teenage years were influenced by a madman's response to a prophecy that was out of your control. Isn't this similar? An ancient, poorly understood magical force dictates who is compatible with your magic and soul. It's not even comprehensive! It doesn't take into account your emotions, your minds, or your physical compatibility. Why do you think the Department of Mysteries never shared this knowledge with the public? It's useless and even harmful in some instances. It gives false hope and robs people of their agency. Not all soulmates end up getting along. They can even be enemies."

Harry tasted bitterness in his mouth. "We're not enemies."

Draco rubbed his forehead exasperatedly. "Then what are we?"

"That's exactly what we should talk about."

Draco's lips twisted in displeasure as he glared at the table, arms firmly crossed over his chest. "I know what you want, but it's not going to work. You'll get sick of me very quickly. You hate when people keep secrets from you. My whole career is a secret."

"Sure, you can't talk about your job. But you're more than that."

"If I'm not an Unspeakable, what am I?" Draco demanded, the unspoken implication hung in the air.

"Draco, you're not defined by your job. You're brilliant and intelligent. I like you for you." There, Harry had said it. He could not backtrack now. “Hermione and Ron can make it work. They even have a baby together.”

"Weasley and Granger survived a war together."

"Didn't we survive a war too?" Harry quipped, earning a frustrated growl from the other wizard. "Draco, please look at me."

After an excruciating wait, Draco turned on his stool until his body faced Harry, though his arms remained crossed. He lifted his chin and locked eyes with Harry, flinching when the Auror tenderly touched his jaw but neither broke eye contact.

"You can't see me, can you?" Harry murmured bleakly. "No, you refuse to. You always work hard for people to acknowledge your work and that's fine but I'm also right here. I'm right in front of you and I'm in love with you. But you don't want to see that. You don't see me. Have you any idea what that's like?"

Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I see you, but... Potter, if I do this with you but we don't work out," he whispered, "I won't be able to handle it. I'm not… strong enough."

Harry felt an invisible weight lift off his shoulders while another, newer and more hopeful, sensation settled in his stomach. "Then let's make sure we make this work," he said resolutely. "It takes effort from both of us. We have to try."

Draco closed his eyes, another protest ready on the tip of his tongue, but he pressed his lips shut together, visibly holding himself back. He was already making an effort.

When he opened his eyes again, he reached out and cupped Harry's cheeks. Draco turned Harry's head from side to side, studying the latter's face. "You're pretty handsome without those ugly glasses."

Harry chuckled. Draco smiled before they both leaned forward and their mouths met in a chaste kiss.

"Thank you," Draco said after they separated, "for coming for me."

After a few more kisses, Harry decided he had held Draco hostage long enough. Harry lengthened the chain around his neck so that it could loop around Draco's neck as well as his own. With Draco's help, he rotated the jade stone a few times before pressing it firmly.

~~~

If Harry had to describe his relationship with Draco Malfoy, five years after they exited the realm of limbo, he would fiddle with the silver wedding band on his left ring finger and grin happily, no words necessary.

~fin~

LINK TO AO3

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

Hi! Congrats on having 100 followers! I really like your works😗 can I request for prompt number 2 (SFW)with Law. Thank youuuuu so much!

Hi Anon!

So sorry this took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait!! 

Prompt 2: “In case we don’t make it back...” (Law x Reader) SFW

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: in the weeks leading up to the events at dressrosa, you find yourself falling for the brooding heart pirates captain. the odds aren’t good. so, in case you don’t make it back...

warnings: language, a little angst, some fluff 

Dressrosa is a hellscape. But only you seem to know it. Everyone around you seems to be content with the facade that has been created--no one ever asks questions, everyone is always smiling. But you know better. You know just how dark the underbelly of this place really is. Everyone seemed to love the Donquixote family--adored them, in fact. From the saccharine persona of Sugar, to the repulsive Trebol, all the way up to the pink bastard himself, Doflamingo--everyone cherished them. The protection that a warlord could provide a country couldn’t be discounted to them, though many of  the citizens of Dressrosa had given their sentient lives for it. But you hoped that one day, the people of Dressrosa would see that though their god wore bright clothing, his soul was nothing but darkness. 

Two Weeks Prior

You’d known of the Strawhat pirates for a while now, keeping track of their movements. Their captain is reckless, but determined to take down Doflamingo, which worked in your favor, certainly. The news of their alliance with warlord colleague, Trafalgar Law was, you admit, a surprise. But you’d been intrigued by the inked captain, so you decided to take advantage of the opportunity and introduce yourself. 

He and the Strawhat captain, Monkey D. Luffy, seemed to be in an argument when you first saw him at the docks. Well, a more apt description might be that Law was arguing with Luffy, who seemed very unconcerned with his ally’s thoughts.

You walk closer, not wanting to alert them to your presence quite yet. As you approach, you hear what they’re arguing about.

“Will you just listen to me, idiot?” Law gritted through his teeth. “This plan is insane, it is not going to work.”

“Lighten up, Tra-guy,” Luffy replied easily, grinning as he slapped a hand on Law’s shoulder. 

He shoved Luffy’s hand off with a huff. “Lighten up?” You took a step closer. “Lighten up?” He asked again, his voice increasing in volume. “Do you little shits have any idea who this guy is? He’s a warlord.” He paused, a sad, distant look on his face, 

“He’s right,” You said, finally within earshot of the two pirates. Their heads snapped to you, alarmed at the interruption. 

“Who the hell are you?” Law said, narrowing his eyes. His body followed the direction of his head, and he now faced you squarely. Now fully upright, you could see just how tall  he was, standing nearly two heads above his pirate ally. Your eyes were drawn to his striking features--dark eyes, dark hair, dark whorls of ink on his exposed skin. You were particularly drawn to his hands. Long fingers stained with black tattoos, the fingers you knew were capable of bringing a person to their knees with just a simple gesture. Room.

You knew he was handsome from his wanted poster, but damn, it did not fully capture the brooding magnetism that you saw in front of you right now. 

“I’m y/n,” You finally replied, closing the gap between you and the pair. “I live here, in Dressrosa.” 

Luffy began to talk, but Law clapped his hand over Luffy’s mouth, silencing him. “Shut up,” Law said with a clenched jaw. Luffy grumbled, trying to rip Law’s hand away.

You dropped your weapon in a show of good faith.. “Just hear me out. Please.” You needed to convince Law (Luffy didn’t seem like he needed much convincing) that you were on their side. Any side that was equally interested in annihilating the Don Quixote family. 

Law looked at you suspiciously, and signaled for you to continue talking. You explained everything to them. You explained how you’d come here to Dressrosa after escaping capture. You’d made a life for yourself, selling your wares at the market in town. Seeing walking toys was jarring, to say the least, but what was even more jarring was the fact that no one seemed to be asking any questions about it. In fact, the citizens of Dressrosa seemed to be downright chirpy. It made your skin crawl. And Doflamingo was too revered, despite his seedy grin and disreputable demeanor. 

So you did some digging, you told them. And you’d inadvertently discovered the awful secret of the country. It all made sense, and it made you despise the oligarchy even more. There were a few that were a part of the underground rebellion, to whom you swore your allegiance. When you found out that Trafalgar Law had potential plans to overthrow the man who once enslaved him, you were practically writhing with vigor and excitement at the prospect. 

The captains listened closely, not interrupting once. Even the rambunctious Strawhat was rapt with attention. When you finally finished your tale, you leaned against the rocky cliff face at the mouth of the dock, waiting for a reaction. 

After a few moments of silence, you spoke again, hoping that with these next words, your trust would be earned. “I’m sorry about Corazon. I didn’t know him personally, but I’ve heard him discussed. It seems like he was a great man.” 

Law’s face went pale at the sound of his friend’s name, and Luffy looked over to him with a puzzled look. But even Luffy could tell that this was not something to ask about right now. He’d never seen Law look like this before. 

He was silent for a long few minutes, and you began to regret your decision. Maybe mentioning Corazon wasn’t the right move. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You needed their trust. Their help. The very lives of the people in this country depended on garnering this rapport.

“Look, I’m sorry. I should have mention--” You were cut off.

“The rebellion,” Law interrupted. “You have strong fighters?” 

Your heart leapt. Maybe this was actually going to work. “Yes, but we need more. Diamante has been on our ass for a few months, so we have a hard time maintaining our numbers.” 

You could see that he was considering, and after another second he said, “Take us to your base.”

That was two weeks ago. 

The plan was made, the date set. Tomorrow, you would join Law, Usopp and Robin in their journey to Green Bit. Aboard the Sunny, one would not think a deadly battle was looming over the pirates’ heads. You’d learned so much about the crew over the past few weeks, and it filled you with such a hope that you’d long denied yourself. 

The Strawhats are fearless, confident. So much so, that despite Law’s ever gloomy pessimism, you cannot find it within you to worry. For the first time since arriving in that dreadful place, you feel at home. You take a deep, cleansing breath in, and exhale fully. Luffy, Chopper and Usopp are restless waiting for the food that Sanji is preparing in the kitchen, jamming their chopsticks childishly into their own noses or ears. Nami smacks Luffy across the back of the head with an annoyed look, and Robin reads quietly to herself. Zoro leans against the side of the ship, a disgruntled look on his face and a bottle of sake in his hand. To Zoro’s right, there’s Caesar scowling petulantly, still confined by his sea prism stone handcuffs.  Franky is waiting for dinner below deck, refueling the ship with cola from the last Coup de Burst, while Brook blankets the whole evening with tinkling violin music. 

The only one missing, you notice looking around, is Law. Standing up from your spot, you approach Zoro and snatch the sake out of his hand abruptly and take a swig. Rather than giving it back, you keep it with you, walking away too quickly for Zoro to object (though you can hear him grumbling irritatedly from behind you, before he calls for another bottle). 

You climb the steps to the helm, and notice him alone at the stern of the ship, leaning over the banister. He doesn’t notice you at first, allowing you an extra few silent moments to stare at him from behind. It’s an usually warm evening, so he isn’t wearing his heavy cloak, opting for black long-sleeved t-shirt, which he has cuffed up to his elbows. With his forearms exposed, you can see how his tattoos wind around the sinews there, seeming to underline toned bands of muscle under the skin. Your eyes rove his back, which is visible through the fitted black shirt. His broad shoulders narrow to a thin waist, and he stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of skin from his lower back. 

You’d been so occupied by the sight of his body, you almost didn’t notice another striking difference in his appearance. Normally covered by his ridiculous mushroom hat, his shaggy hair is exposed and rustling in the salty breeze. He reaches a hand up to run through his hair, pausing to grip the hair at the back of his neck roughly, as if he was frustrated. You find yourself wondering if his hair is as soft as it looks under the light of the moon and the stars. You feel a coil tighten ever-so-slightly within your core, but you approach anyway.

“Don’t you want dinner?” You call, making sure you gave him plenty of time and space before you closed the gap between you completely. He stiffens momentarily, but relaxes as he hears your voice again. “Sanji should be almost done.”

He cranes his head over this shoulder toward you, but makes no effort to turn his body with it before turning his head back face forward, looking out onto the vast ocean. You stand next to him, leaning your elbows on the banisters as he was doing beside you. You offer the bottle of sake to him wordlessly. He takes it, drinking from it for a moment before handing it back to you. 

Though he does not indicate it, he appreciates your silence in moments like these. He never feels pressured to talk around you, to present fake niceties or meaningless chatter. He also, much to his horror, has found that he appreciates your company in and of itself. Your presence simultaneously calms and arouses his nervous system. He doesn’t understand it, but being the man of science that he is, he plans to observe and collect data. For research purposes, he tells himself. Only research purposes. 

“Not really hungry,” He replies, giving you a sidelong glance as you hang on the railing beside him. 

“C’mon, Law, what’s it been? Like three days since you last ate with us?” You jab him in the side in a way that you hope comes off as playful, though you really are becoming increasingly concerned with his disengagement.

He shrugs, neither in confirmation or denial. Over the time you’d spend together, you found yourself growing more and more attached to him daily. You found that you always wanted to have eyes on him, and were viscerally uncomfortable when he wasn’t around. Law, too, had become accustomed to some uneasiness with your absence, or his from you. He had no frame of reference for this feeling, and it scared him. But he wanted to understand it, needed to understand it. 

“You’re starting to worry me a bit,” You say, breaking him from his thoughts. You do your best to keep it lighthearted, but as he flinches a bit at the words, you realize that you have not been very lighthearted at all. 

Law hates that he cares about you, what you think of him. Even worse, he hates that you care about him. He knows from the way you look at him, recognizing your look of longing in his own eyes whenever he dared to look at himself in a mirror. But caring about him has only meant death for the people he’d cared about before. An image of Corazon’s bloodied body flashes through your mind and he cringes again. He casts his eyes downward and presses his mouth into a thin, tight line. 

“Hey,” You say softly. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You want him to feel better. You want to be the one that makes him feel better. You’re warm and brave from the alcohol you’ve consumed and you place a hand gently on his forearm. Recoiling from your touch, he inhales sharply. But you don’t remove your hand. 

“Hey,” You say again even more quietly, afraid that even a decibel too loud will scare the fragile husk away from you. “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow, that is. We have a solid plan.”

Law finally dares to look at you. Like that first day that you met, his eyes are filled with dejection. He wants very badly to believe your words. Coming out of your mouth, they sound so sweet. Coming out of your mouth, he almost allows himself to yearn. To yearn for a way to change the past, but also to yearn for a new, and brighter future. 

“I’ve lost everyone I’ve cared about.” Law replies. “They’re all either dead, or so far from here that they may as well be, considering the fact that I will likely never see them again.” 

His voice drops to a whisper. “You know as well as I do, y/n. This mission has a very low chance for success.”

You don’t reply. You do know this. It is Doflamingo, afterall. But for some reason, his reply irks you more than it normally would.

“What the hell, Law?” Your irritation is clear in your voice. “Is it so difficult for you to be even a little positive? Is that really so unbearable?”

His eyes narrow. “When you’ve seen the shit that I’ve seen, yeah, it is really so unbearable.” He mocks your tone, making you fume.

“The shit that you’ve seen?” You raise your eyebrows. “The shit that you’ve seen? We’ve all seen shit we’d like to forget, Law! The only difference between you and all of us, is that we don’t carry that shit on our back like a fucking martyr all the damn time.” Your voice climbs to a yell, and it echoes across the dark water in the stillness of the night.

He hates that you’re right. Hates that he’s such a coward, and that he has a martyr complex to top it all off. 

“How arrogant you are,” You continue, your fury propelling you forward. “To believe that everything is always your fault. Sometimes life is just shit, Law. That’s all there is to it.”

Angry tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t back down. You refuse to look away. 

He is silent, but holds your gaze as intensely as you are holding his. You feel the air shift, anger slowly shifting into something altogether new. You notice, with sudden clarity, that you are close to Law. Very close. You are trembling, but he is too. A long, shuddering breath passes through his open lips. His breath smells faintly of the sake, the sweetness of the fruit mingling with the acrid scent of the alcohol itself. 

He places one hand on the railing behind you, brushing against your side as he does. “You’re right, y/n,” He says, never taking his eyes off of you. “Sometimes life is just shit.” 

He leans down and continues. “A lot of times life is just shit. And you can’t deny that this situation is shit too. We’re relying on a lot of variables to fall into place in just the right way, at just the right time, and in my life, that has pretty much never fucking happened.” His tone is hard. 

He is being drawn to you in a way that confounds him. As if he was possessed, he closes the final few inches between you. His chest and yours are pressed against one another, and the tattooed hand on the railing slowly drifts to the back of your head. He leans his forehead on yours and tangles his surprisingly delicate fingers in the strands of your hair.

“So,” He murmurs. Your heart is pounding so hard that you wonder if he has ripped it from your chest already. “In case life is as shit as it’s always been...in case we don’t make it back…”

His lips meet yours. At first, you can’t breathe. You freeze, but you feel him stiffen and try to pull away. He thinks he has made a huge mistake, ruining yet another good thing in his life with his egocentrism. But your hands grasp the fabric of his t-shirt, and pull him back into you, so his lips never leave yours. 

He sighs in relief, moving his mouth deliberately on yours. If this is the last night he has, he wants to make it worth something. He wants one night to be worth something. Your fingers unfurl from his shirt, and you slide your hands up his chest, finally wrapping your arms around his neck. One hand is at the nape of your neck, the other at the small of your back. 

There is not an inch of space between you, not a millimeter. Your lips and his fit together like he and misery always had. He allows himself to believe, just for this moment, that you could replace the misery in his life. He allows himself to believe that this won’t be your last kiss. He gives himself permission to believe that you and he would be here again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that.

For once, he grants himself the license to hope.

[dear-evanrosier]

Christmas

It was a normal day in the Black House. Harry was back from his sixth year at Hogwarts at his godfathers' house. After James and Lily's deaths, Remus convinced Sirius to not go after Peter, since Harry needed him. They took him in and he had lived with them since. It was about eight in the morning of the second day back of the two-week break when he approached them, hoping to talk about something serious.

"Hey, Sirus, Remus, can I to you guys talk about something?" Harry asked, timidly sitting in a chair across from the pair, who were chatting over the Daily Prophet and drinking tea. They looked up to be met with a worried Harry, fiddling with a hole in his pajama bottoms. Remus set down the paper and shared a worried look with Sirius. "Of course, Harry. What is it?" Sirius spoke, folding his hands neatly in his lap before discretely grabbing Remus' hand without Harry noticing. He didn't know about them yet, since either man did not know how he would react.

Harry steeled himself and looked down, staring at the ring his boyfriend had given him a year before. "Ok. Well, I'm bi." He said it so quietly that they almost didn't hear him. "Oh. Harry, we don't care. We still love you." Remus told him, and Sirius gave his hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. "I know. I know this doesn't change your opinion of me. But that's not all." Sirius looked back at him, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "I-I have a boyfriend. And we've been together since our fourth year." Remus, who was drinking a sip of his tea, spit it out and sprayed the hot liquid down his lap. Immediately letting go of Sirius, he hopped up and ran to the bathroom, trying to soothe the burn. "Fuck!" Harry watched as Remus pranced around the house trying to make his legs stop hurting, which was almost comical.

When Remus had finally changed his pants and applied a healing charm, he sat back down to a laughing Sirius and a Harry who was barely holding in his laughter, his whole body shaking with silent laughter. Remus sighed and rolled his eyes, pushing the tea far away from him. "Why didn't you tell us before, Harry?" He asked, once again grabbing Sirius' hand. "Well, I didn't know how you would react to who it is." Harry was twisting the snake around his finger absentmindedly. He had no idea how they hadn't noticed the silver wrapping around his finger with emerald green jewels for eyes. Not to mention the engraved initials, 'D.M' on the bottom. "Well, who is it?" Sirius asked, keeping his eyes on Harry the entire time. "I don't know if I should tell you just yet. I just wanted to tell you before you found out from someone else." They nodded, and Harry left the kitchen, hiding his hand with the ring in his pocket. He ran straight up to his room, setting a treat on the window for Hedwig while he wrote a letter.

Dear Draco,

I told Sirius and Remus that I was bi and that I had a boyfriend. They took it really well, but I'm not surprised. But Remus did burn his legs after spitting out his tea when I told them about you. I didn't tell them who you were though, since I didn't know how they would think of your family. But when I do tell them, I hope you can be there with me. I know it's only been two days since I've seen you, but I really miss you. How has your break been? Did you manage to tell your parents, or are you waiting till Christmas Eve? It's up to you really. And if you need anything at all, please owl me. I don't want you hurt or uncomfortable.

Love from your Scarface

Harry sealed the letter and put it in an envelope, just in time for Hedwig to fly in the window and eat the treat. He wrote 'Draco Malfoy' on the front, and tied the letter to her leg. "Take this to him, but don't get caught." He told her. She gave an affectionate nip of his fingers before flying out.

He smiled to himself and walked back down to the kitchen, getting the breakfast he hadn't eaten that morning. Walking in, he saw Sirius on the counter, Remus between his legs. Neither noticed Harry it seemed as Remus continued kissing Sirius' neck. They didn't break apart until they heard the cabinet door close. The couple whipped around to see Harry casually making some toast, not even paying a second glance to the two snogging. Harry finished heating the bread and turned to get some jam, but found him to be looking at Remus and Sirius, both very red and avoiding Harry's eyes. "You guys ok? You seem embarrassed." Harry asked, pulling out the jar and spreading generous amounts on the bread.

"Uh, this is not how we wanted you to find out," Sirius mumbled and Harry laughed. "Oh, I knew a while ago." He stated it as if it was a fact, and put the jar away, turning around and pouring himself some tea to add to his toast. "Wh-what? When did you find out? How did you find out?" Remus didn't understand how Harry knew, they were so careful. "Like the second year. You guys keep forgetting silencing charms, unlike me." He grabbed his plate and walked out of the kitchen, up to his own room.

Remus and Sirius stared at each other, comprehending what he just said. "Did he say that he doesn't forget silencing charms?" Remus asked, playing with a stray hair falling out of Sirius's hair. "I think he did. We'll have to talk to him about that." Sirius noted, and Remus nodded. "Do we have to do it right now, though? I'm sure we could wait just a little while." Sirius brushed his thumb over Remus' bottom lip and winked. "Of course not, love." And with that, Remus attacked his boyfriend's neck with more kisses, making sure he cast a silencing charm.

ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

It was hours later when Harry had gotten a response from Draco. He read it slowly, taking in the slanted writing that he loved.

Dear Harry,

I figured that they would take it well, it's quite obvious they have been dating. I can't believe that he burned his legs. He's usually more level headed, what was so surprising about it? I also hope I will be there when you tell them it's me. I want to be there for you-

Before he could read the rest of it, there was a knock on the door before it opened, giving him barely enough time to hide it under his leg without them seeing the name at the bottom. "Hey, Harry. Is that a letter from your boyfriend?" Sirius asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Harry nodded and readjusted his leg, making sure the writing was completely hidden. Remus smiled and moved to sit next to Sirius. Harry looked between the two, waiting for an explanation. "Er, am I in trouble or something? The last time you sat me down like this is was when I broke into the ministry and you almost..." Harry trailed off, not wanting to remember when he believed Sirius to be dead.  

"What did you mean when you said you don't forget silencing charms?" Sirius asked, just going for it. Harry relaxed and smiled. "Well, what do you think? We can't exactly use the room of requirement, people would know we were missing all the time. And when he's here, I don't want you guys to hear him talking to me. " Remus' eyebrows furrowed before Harry realized what he said and slapped a hand to his face. He's been in here?" Sirius asked, jumping up and knocking Remus off the bed. "Yeah. Twice. We didn't do anything just talked because he didn't want to go home." Remus nodded, but Sirius still looked suspicious.  "Whatever..." And they left Harry alone in his room, both still giving him suspicious looks. After making sure the door was locked, he continued reading the letter.

I want to be there for you when you tell them who I am. I really miss you too. The house has been unnaturally quiet since I got back, and I'm a little worried about it. But I may just be paranoid. I'm going to tell them on Christmas eve, just so I can work up the courage. Don't send a reply to this, I believe my father is going to start checking my mail. I love you, and I will tell you if I need anything.

Your Ferret

Harry smiled to himself and put the letter up, making sure he hid it under his pillow.

CHRISTMAS EVE

They were sitting in front of the fire, chatting merrily and sipping tea, all of them in Christmas pajamas Remus had gotten from a muggle clothing store. Remus and Sirius didn't try and get any more information out of Harry about his boyfriend, just teasing him about being able to keep it a secret for so long.  It was now almost ten o'clock when the fire turned bright green and a boy toppled out of it, crying and barely standing and covered in bruises, with a choked "Harry" coming from his mouth. Harry dashed to his side before his uncles even knew what was happening. He picked Draco up and set him on the couch, resting his hand on his leg. "Accio wand." The object flew from the couch opposite them. "Episkey." The bruises cleared quickly, but he still had some blood peeking out from under the neck of his shirt. He set the wand on the floor next to his foot.

"Dragon, breathe for me." Harry kept repeating, rubbing soothing circles over Draco's knee. His breathing slowed down and he looked at Harry. He wiped a few tears away, grabbing Draco's hands. "Tell me five things you see." Draco looked around the room. "The fireplace, your obnoxious scar, your glasses, and your uncles staring at us." Harry nodded. "I'll worry about them in a minute. Four things you feel." Harry placed a small kiss on his hand, and Draco gave a small smile. "Your hands, the couch, this really uncomfortable suit, and my socks." Harry nodded and kissed his hand again. "Three things you hear."  "Your house-elf grumbling upstairs, the fire, and your voice." Harry smiled. "Two things you smell." Draco took a deep breath. "Your cucumber lavender shampoo, which combination still makes no sense because who wants cucumber and lavender together unless it's in the hair of the cutest boy alive, and burnt cookies from your kitchen because you cannot bake to save your life." Harry chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not the one who baked this time. One thing you can taste." He swallowed and more tears came, which Harry wiped away. "The mint I had right before I told them."

"Ok." He placed a quick kiss on Draco's mouth before sitting on the couch next to him. "Will you tell me what happened?" Draco just looked down at his lap to where their hands were still together. He fiddled with the snake ring on Harry's finger, which the two adults finally took notice of. "Crucio." It was a choked sob, but Harry still understood it. "Ok, come on." He grabbed Draco's hand and his wand and walked to the foot of the stairs before remembering something and turning around.

"Er, I'll be back in a few minutes." He told Remus and Sirius, who was still surprised the boy had come from nowhere. He took Draco up to his room, finding some pajama's for him to wear. "Here, love. Put these on." He passed him some flannel bottoms and a snitch tee shirt. Harry left the room to pull some muggle ointments from the bathroom cabinet. He came back to his room with Draco just pulling the pants above his hips. Harry caught sight of a large gash diagonally across his collar bone. He gasped and Draco gulped, not wanting him to see that. He quickly pulled the shirt over his head, wincing when it grazed the cut. "Dray..." Harry reached forward, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Draco grimaced and pulled away, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. Harry walked downstairs as fast as possible, needing a different spell.

"Is there a spell to heal large cuts?" He asked, breathless from practically running down the stairs. Remus and Sirius were on the couch, quietly talking when Harry ran in there. "Yeah, try Vulnera Sanentur. For what?" Remus told him, but Harry didn't even answer the question, he just turned around and ran back up the steps, the two men behind him. He opened the door gently, trying to not scare Draco. He sat next to him, grabbing his wand from where he abandoned it on the desk. "Please let me see it." Draco looked away. "Please?" He sighed and pulled the back of his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the side. He got a closer look at the cut, thumbing the edges but not enough to put Draco in any pain. "Was it him again?" Draco nodded, and Harry pulled him into a hug, making sure to not touch the wound.

They sat like that for a few minutes, Draco wrapped in Harry's arms, taking in the smell of pine trees, since there was a muggle scented candle on his dresser. They didn't notice Remus and Sirius watching them from the doorway, hidden in the shadows. When Harry let go of him, he brought the wand to the top of the cut, Draco wincing and sucking in his breath when it touched the skin. "Sorry, Dragon. I asked Remus for a spell, and he gave me this one." Harry told him, and Draco nodded. He pulled the wand down the cut gently, murmuring the spell, "Vulnera Sanentur." The gash shrank inwards, becoming thinner. He kept doing and repeating it until instead of a large gash, it was just an angry pink scar. "Thank you." Harry nodded and set his wand back down before gently kissing him. Draco smiled into the kiss, throwing one arm around Harry's neck and the other around his waist. Harry broke the kiss but didn't move his hands from where they were, one hand on his hip and the other on his good shoulder. "I'm so sorry, love. I should never have let you leave my arms on the train."

Draco shook his head and kissed Harry's nose. "It isn't your fault, Haz. I needed to tell them, I just wished I didn't interrupt time with your family." Harry pulled his face away from him, still staring at Draco. "You are part of my family, Draco. Don't forget that. Ever. Ok?" Draco nodded, and Harry kissed his cheek. "I love you, Harry." He rested his forehead against Harry's and smiled. "I love you too, Draco." They hugged again, and the two in the doorway smiled. They began to move away, but Draco's voice stopped them. "What about Remus and Sirius?" Draco asked, and Harry shrugged. "I'll talk to them in the morning. For now, just sleep. I'll stay with you." Draco pulled away from him to look at him, worry etched in every line of his face. "What if they don't want us to be together? What if they make you break up with me?" Harry sighed. "I don't care if I have to leave here, I'm not leaving you." Draco nodded and kissed him again. Harry let go and picked him up bridal style, walking around the side of the bed and sliding in, arms still wrapped around Draco. He pulled the covers over them, wrapping an arm around his waist from behind. "Nox." He whispered, and the lights around his room went out, leaving just the candle casting light across the walls.

Harry hummed a random tune gently to his boyfriend, who was wrapped tightly in his arms. His body was curved around Draco's under the soft grey duvet, rubbing circles over his abs with his thumb. "I'm so sorry, Dragon. I hate your father so much." He mumbled softly, not expecting him to answer. "The feelings mutual, Haz. I can't wait till everything with the war is done and over with and he gets shipped off to Azkaban." Draco fell asleep moments after that, Harry still humming gently in his ear and making the circular motions. Harry laid awake, and called out quietly, "I know you guys are out there, come in here."

It took a moment, but he was met with the sheepish faces of his uncles moving from the doorway and coming to the end of the bed. Sirius sat on the desk and Remus just sat in the chair, like a normal person.

"So, do I have to leave in the morning?" He asked, pulling Draco tighter into his side. He shuffled in his sleep, but Harry pressed a soft kiss to his neck and he stopped moving, smiling in his sleep. Remus shook his head, but Sirius looked hurt. "Of course not Harry. Why would we make you move out?" Remus asked, but Harry just shook his head. "Hold on a second," Harry told him, moving his arm out from underneath Draco gently. He slid out of the bed quietly, trying not to disturb his boyfriend. He straightened his tee-shirt and crept out of the room, motioning for them to follow him. He brought them up a floor to the room he had hardly been in.

It was just a simple drawing room, housing two desks, a trunk that kept rattling (Harry was sure there was a bogart in there), and the black family tapestry Sirius had yet to find a way to take off the wall. He pointed at the names 'Bellatrix Lestrange' which had a thin gold line leading to 'Andromeda Tonks' and 'Narcissa Malfoy'. Her name was connected to 'Lucius Malfoy' and the name 'Draco Malfoy' in between them.

"That. That's why. It's why didn't tell you. Not because I'm embarrassed by him, quite the opposite really. I love him too much for that. I was just worried because of his family. You saw what they did, and he just told him he was gay. I had no idea how you would react when you found out I'm dating someone who's aunt tried to kill you." Harry stood there awkwardly, just breathing shallowly and staring at the spider-like webs between the names. Remus just looked at him. Sirius looked across the web, staring at the cigarette sized hole where he was supposed to be. Remus was about to speak, but he heard a crash coming from the floor below, sounding like it was Harry's room. Harry didn't spare a second thought, just dashing from the room and to his own.

[backtothestart02]

Yoga Pants and Gray Sweatpants - 1/1 | grandice fanfiction

A/N: Soooo, I’ve decided to make a grandice fics series about them dating secretly while filming Flash. Idk what my next one will be, but this takes place after the previous one. Enjoy!

Inspired by convos I’ve shared with @jennlee44 & @smileyscorner04. Thanks, ladies!

...

Synopsis: Grant and Candice are not so good at breaking up.

...

There had been a leak.

Paparazzi had gotten some particularly intimate-looking photos of Grant and Candice onset. While they weren’t doing anything more than laughing and standing close to each other in most, there were a few where they were holding hands and their faces were particularly close.

The internet went wild while speculation.

No one had reached out to either of their agents yet, but Candice figured it was only a matter of time. This thing she had going with Grant had become too obvious. She broke it off, and no matter how hard Grant protested, she refused to go back on her decision.

She and Grant were done.

A week later Grant sat in his trailer, trying to memorize his lines, knowing that even if he did there was no way his acting would portray it properly. The break-up with Candice had started to affect his performance when the cameras were rolling, which had been Candice’s biggest fear from the beginning. He knew it only solidified her decision to break things off. If they got back together and broke up for real, because of an actual blow-up, their chemistry onset would never recover. At least with this it was something he just needed to force himself to get over and then everything would be fine.

But that was just it. He couldn’t ‘get over it’.

What had started as something mostly physical had grown quickly into something much deeper.

Grant wouldn’t say he was in love. He wasn’t that far gone. But he was definitely falling, and he wasn’t a fan of this new arrangement at all.

Unable to focus on his lines, he decided to go for a walk. After slipping on his shoes and a light jacket, he pushed open the door of his trailer only to find the object of his affection and anguish walking past wearing work-out clothes, particularly yoga pants.

He nearly fell out of his trailer.

“Candice!” he called, taking the steps carefully before closing the door behind him. “Wait up.”

She looked over her shoulder, and he had to force himself to look up from that delectable ass of hers, accentuated in those pants, to those deep, brown eyes that he nearly found himself drowning in.

“Grant,” she said, almost coldly.

He stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Had she caught him checking her out? Was this just how she was going to interact with him now that they were broken up? That didn’t seem fair. They could still be friends.

“Wh-Where are you going?” he asked, skipping over to her in two easy bounds.

“The gym,” she said, as if it was obvious. He supposed it was. “You?”

“I was going to go for a walk,” he said.

“Mm.” She nodded once.

“I could join you,” he suggested softly, leaning in a little closer.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said, tone clipped.

He frowned. “Why not? We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“We’re exes, Grant,” she said, determined not to look at him. “Exes are not friends.”

He stopped suddenly, but she kept walking. His heart fell into the pit of his stomach.

Exes are not friends.

Well, hell.

…

Two days later, Grant and Candice, along with the crew and the director were all on set, and Candice thought she was going to die. She’d been avoiding Grant like the plague, ever since she’d broken things off with him. She hadn’t been cold to him since she’d met him. He was just so fun to be around, and she fed off that energy without even meaning to. It was what had drawn them together. He fed off her contagious energy too.

But she had to put a stop to that before any more rumors spread. For all she knew, their magnetic energy had been reported to the media by one of the crew eager for their 15 minutes of fame.

She knew it was affecting Grant’s performance though, and she felt bad about that. In the time she’d known him, she’d come to the realization very quickly that he had a difficult time separating what Barry was going through and what he was going through personally. Barry having such strong feelings for Iris, for example, had amplified his own feelings for her – Candice.

Now that they were broken up, she could see the struggle in him to light up as Barry around her as Iris when in reality she kept pushing him further and further away.

She couldn’t help it!

She was as upset over the break-up as he was. There was nothing more in life she wanted than to take it back and pick up where they’d left off. There were so many places they hadn’t hooked up yet. It had only been a week and a half, but she was already feeling sex-deprived. Specifically with Grant. She was feeling Grant sex-deprived, like she was in withdrawal.

But more than that, his magnetic energy, his smile, those gorgeous green eyes, and how he could just pick her up as if she was light as a feather, how he just understood her as no one else did, how they almost had their own language because they were just that in tune with each other.

She was falling for him.

That wasn’t going to stop whether they were broken up or not, and she hated it.

She hadn’t put on yoga pants the other day hoping to lure him out of his trailer. She’d legitimately intended on going to the gym to work out. Though more to work out her frustrations on not being able to work Grant out instead than actually maintaining her figure and staying healthy.

In fact, the reason her tone had been so clipped with him was in fact because she worried if they were in the same space for too long when they weren’t filming that she’d throw everything to the wind and seduce him right there in the gym.

She bit for bottom lip just thinking about it, and tried not to moan. The on-site gym was one of the many places they hadn’t hooked up yet. Ironically, there were no cameras in there. It would be the perfect spot on top one of those treadmills or bicycles…or in the locker room shower.

She shook her head, ridding herself of that thought.

This was crazy!

She’d been celibate for months. Surely she could handle being celibate again. She could even go out and have a one-night stand if she wished. She was sure there were plenty of guys that-

Stop it.

You are not a one-night stand kind of woman.

And you want Grant, plain and simple.

She sighed and looked back at her script. Grant was across the room rehearsing his own lines quietly to himself. She’d memorized hers already, but there was no harm going over them again. Especially when the alternative was to not check Grant out when wardrobe had given him gray sweatpants to wear.

Damn it.

He was walking after her in the scene. She was supposed to be mad, pissed off. And her current mood definitely helped her performance when the cameras were rolling, she decided. But sexual frustration ebbed off of her in waves, and she wondered if maybe that wasn’t what the director was going for with Iris in this particular scene.

Still, what was she supposed to do?

Grant’s cock moved so effortlessly beneath those pants when he walked. It was just a reminder of what they’d had and could still have if only she’d take back breaking things off.

But she couldn’t do that.

No one could know about them, and the most effective way to do that was to not be together at all. Soon any speculation of them being an item would be gone, and then maybe – maybe – she could think about being friends again.

“I need a break,” she announced to the crew and director.

Grant looked up from his script curiously.

The director frowned.

“We haven’t even started filming, Candice.”

“Well…I need a few extra minutes to get ready.”

His brows furrowed suspiciously, but he nodded.

“Ten minutes. Then we start.”

She dropped her script on her chair and made a quick exit for the lounge via the long hallway. She spotted Carlos inside and felt relief. She could relax with him, get Grant off her mind and then be ready to film in the 10 minutes that had been allotted to her.

“Candi-” Carlos started, and was immediately cut off.

“Candice.”

Carlos pursed his lips as Candice turned around and found Grant staring at her from just inside the doorway.

“Grant.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

Carlos downed the rest of his coffee and threw his cup in the trash.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he muttered, shutting the door to the lounge behind him as he left.

The implication was obvious. He thought the two of them were going to have sex.

That irritated Candice more than she cared to admit, because how could he even think that? The whole cast and crew was well aware of how they weren’t sleeping together. Their unresolved sexual tension could be felt a mile away.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, enhancing her cleavage the slightest bit.

She could see Grant fighting with himself to not look.

“I think we should get back together.”

She scoffed. “Of course you do.”

“It’s affecting my work! Yours too.”

“It’s not affecting my work. I’m a professional. You’re-”

“I’m what?” he dared her to say.

“You’re too attached to your character.”

“I’m not attached enough right now or I’d be able to channel Barry without memories of us fucking flooding my brain at every minute.”

She swallowed and her eyes lowered briefly to his crotch, nearly gasping when she thought she saw…

Did his cock just twitch?

She lifted her eyes to his again.

“That is not my fault.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.” Her eyes narrowed.

He took a step towards her, and she tensed.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Grant-”

“All the time. When I’m awake, when I’m asleep…” He sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration, as he often portrayed Barry doing. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

She swallowed her gasp just before it emerged past her lips. It took her a few seconds to compose herself.

“You think that-”

“I know it.” He took her hands in his own, holding them tightly when she tried pulling them away.

She refused to look at him, though her heart was beating rapidly inside her chest.

“You haven’t had sex in a week and a half. You’re acting like a hormonal teenager, thinking this is more than it is when it’s not. For God’s sake, our careers are on the line here. Why can’t you just-”

“Candice.”

She tipped her head to look up into his eyes.

“Are you falling in love with me too?”

Her heart leapt into her throat.

“I…” Tears formed in her eyes, so she quickly shut them and shook her head. “No, there’s no way. I’m just…sexually frustrated.”

She gasped, realizing she’d said the words out loud and completely mortified.

“Shit,” she mumbled under her breath.

Grant smiled slowly, and she knew there was no going back.

“I can help with that too.”

“Grant, no- No, you can’t-can’t do that.”

She was backing up, but he pulled her back to him before she could get far.

“Relax, Candeez, I promise to make it good for you.”

And in that moment chills ran up her spine, and she melted. His lips came down on hers, and she moaned into the kiss. She jumped up into his arms when she felt his hands on her ass, and he squeezed her cheeks as he backed up slowly against the counter.

Kissing madly, he spun them around so she was sitting on the smooth granite and lifted her shirt up over her head, quickly unlatching her bra from behind her back. Candice shoved his pants and underwear down in one, swift move and immediately wrapped her hand around his shaft.

He groaned and dropped his head onto her shoulder.

“Candice.”

“Those damn sweatpants have been driving me out of my mind,” she muttered as she continued to pump him. “Do you know how clearly you can see your cock moving in them when you walk or get up?”

He chuckled darkly.

“I know. I requested them.”

“Bastard.”

“You don’t mean that.” He smirked, tipping her head up.

“No, I really do.”

He kissed her.

“I also mean this.”

She released his cock and yanked him closer.

“Fuck me.”

His green eyes turned dark, as he roughly yanked her pants and underwear down to a puddle on the floor.

“With pleasure.”

…

Fifteen minutes later, Grant and Candice came strolling back onto set. The director took one look at them and called for hair and make-up to come over.

“You good now, Candice?” he asked.

Grant quietly smirked to himself.

“Better than ever,” she said brightly.

After hair and make-up had finished and scattered, Grant and Candice took their places and waited for the director to call ‘action’.

As luck would have it, they only needed one take.

...

*will post on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 25

Prompt: car (speeder) accident

This is a 2-part one, with day 26: recovery being the next chapter. Stay tuned for that!

Read on AO3

I Will Always Be Here

Anakin is quite confident in the fact that there is nothing better than the feeling of flying. An open cockpit, the wind blowing his hair back so his padawan braid waves in the wind. He weaves in and out of the busy Coruscant traffic. He likes flying through rush hour best, something that Master Obi-Wan thinks him crazy for. It reminds him of pod racing back on Tattoine-- it has everything but the stupid sand that always kicks up in his eyes: People cutting in front of him, yelling obscenities at him as he passes, some try to physically knock him out of the sky.

If he thinks hard enough, he can hear his mother's voice cheering him on. She never liked him pod racing, but she always cheered him on.

Master Obi-Wan on the other hand, detests his flying. He doesn't like it when he flies the both of them and likes it even less when he goes off on his own. He claims it's "dangerous" to fly on Coruscant. Anakin thinks if he ever saw a real pod race, he'd agree a little traffic is nothing. Besides, if he gets a little flying out of his system a few times a week, then he is less inclined to try to annoy his master into letting him pilot. It's a win-win all-around.

As he does a barrel-roll over a bright red speeder, sending the driver into an angry tizzy, he laughs aloud. A few horns accompany. He pretends it's the hollers of applause.

Anakin pulls off into another lane, this one going much faster than the others. He grins and presses on the acceleration. His speeder is narrow, small enough to fit between the gap between two flashily-painted speeders. And so he pushes forward, wedging himself inches from both of the speeders.

What Anakin didn't anticipate were the other two speeders to match his speed. He looks between them uneasily, two Trandosians with amused grins on their faces. Like they were hoping he'd try this. Anakin tries to increase his speed, and they copy. He slows, they slow.

"C'mon fellas," Anakin yells across the howling of the wind. "This is my exit."

One of them just cackles, and the other swerves off. The Jedi padawan relaxes, but then feels a sharp bump against the side of his speeder. His head snaps to the side, and the other Trandosian is glaring at him.

"Then exit," he growls, and he slams against the speeder again, harder this time. Anakin's eyes narrow, and he slams back.

"I've beat sleemos like you when I was five! Quit it!"

His body is thrust in the other direction, and he looks with wide eyes at the reemergence of the other Trandosian. Now, Anakin has participated in many pod races in his short life, but he suddenly realizes that he isn't zooming through the Dune Sea or the outskirts of Mos Espa, but hundreds of meters above the surface of a very busy megapolis-- thousands of levels above the very bottom of the planet. Though he isn't afraid, he suddenly gets a burst of cautiousness.

His worry comes too late, though, because now he has two speeders flanking him from either side with seemingly no intention of letting him go.

"You'll learn your manners, boy," the second snaps, and Anakin is slammed into the speeder of the other especially hard, which makes his head feel like it's rattling around in his skull, but it at least gives him the space to escape their grasp. He presses the acceleration pedal all the way down, surging ahead of his road ragers.

Had he left a second earlier, he probably would have made it. But the Trandosian he crashed into managed to recover, bumping the back end of his speeder and sending him into a tailspin. Anakin screams as the world around him spins into a blur of color and horns and incoherent yelling that get lost in the whistle of the air.

The Force is also screaming, but Anakin is too panicked to make out what it's trying to say. His downward momentum is pulling him against his seatbelt, too far to reach the steering apparatus. He curses a string of Huttese words his mother would have made him stand in a corner for saying as he tries to concentrate on turning the wheel.

By the grace of the Force, the speeder straightens, the surface of Coruscant suddenly much closer than it was seconds ago. Too close. He pulls up on the steering, hoping for a last miracle, but he's moving much too fast.

Anakin's speeder crashes into the ground, hissing and crumbling as the roll guard snaps up and Anakin's world goes upside-down once more

__________

Any other day, Obi-Wan is willing to look past his padawan's... extracurricular activities. He isn't blind to the fact that Anakin likes to disappear sometimes, as does a particular Temple speeder that has been suspiciously modified to move much quicker than the others. But connecting with Anakin can be difficult, and he always reappears in a good mood, so Obi-Wan figures it's a secret he will let the kid keep.

Qui-Gon was also quite complimentary about his flying skills. Though Anakin's particular brand of flying is not Obi-Wan's... ideal method of getting from one point to the next, he supposes he's competent enough.

But unfortunately, today is not any other day because the council alerted him of a mission, and he had to vaguely explain to an unamused Mace Windu what he meant by needing to "track down his padawan". Anakin isn't answering his commlink, and so now Obi-Wan finds himself on a speeder, weaving through Coruscant's traffic.

Blast, Anakin we are going to have a very long talk about answering your commlink, he thinks as he has to pull a hard right to follow the tracking beacon of Anakin's speeder. This boy will be the death of--

The Force cries out in a burst of panic and fear, and up ahead Obi-Wan watches a bright green speeder slam into a smaller one, sending it tumbling out of the sky. He doesn't hesitate before slamming his steering wheel down, cutting out of the flow of traffic and beelining for the out-of-control speeder. He can feel Anakin from here, his panic palpable. Obi-Wan reaches through their bond, hearing the echo of his thoughts in his own head. Just... straighten.

He isn't going to get it, he realizes, and Obi-Wan stretches out with the Force, wrapping every ounce of his powers around the spinning speeder, and he tugs. Anakin's vehicle comes to a sudden halt in its downward twirl, but his momentum is still too great. Obi-Wan sees it happen before it does-- the speeder rolling and crumbling with every rotation along the ground Anakin miraculously found.

And then he hears the crunch of durasteel crumbling against ferrocrete, and a sharp cry ring through the commotion. It's so much worse than his momentary glimpse of it all.

"Anakin!" he yells, his yell guttural and pained. Obi-Wan skids his speeder to a stop a few meters away from where the wreckage lies, jumping from his seat before he has a chance to stop. His muscles feel heavy from using his Force powers, and he is hardly able to cushion his impact into the ground, but he doesn't care. The speeder is at rest now, but it looks more like a pile of junk than something that was flying just moments before. He can't see Anakin, but he can hear him-- a low groan punctuated by a sharp wheeze. The Jedi Knight runs to the other side, drawing in a breath and trying to hold onto a calm mood as he surveys the severity of the scene.

Anakin is wrapped in the crumpled durasteel like a cocoon, his body folded in on himself and his head leaning heavily against what's left of the door. He can see the blood trickling from his nose, and a deep cut at his hairline covering half his face with blood. The rest of his body is unknown.

It's not as bad as it looks. It's not as bad as it looks...

Obi-Wan takes out his lightsaber and carefully carves away the pieces of the speeder to get him out. He can hear emergency services pulling up, their sirens wailing. And he hears the sound of Master Windu's voice and only vaguely remembers pressing the emergency beacon on his commlink. A hand on his shoulder. A voice whose words don't quite compute. And then a hand on his wrist, stopping his progress.

The Jedi Knight snaps back into reality to find Mace Windu looking at him with a placid expression.

"Let them do their job, Knight Kenobi," he says, and suddenly he is aware of a team of Coruscant guards and Temple healers standing by. "Go back to the Temple and wait for him to be assessed."

"But--"

"Obi-Wan," he says, stern but pleading. "Temple. That's an order."

His throat feels tight and he realizes the hand that Windu isn't holding steady is shaking. He nods, deactivating his saber and stepping back. The Jedi Master's hand remains on his shoulder, guiding him away as the healers draw their own shortened sabers and finish the job.

He sees them pull out his body, and really that's all it looks to be. Anakin remains still-- very still. Too still amongst the chaos that ensues around him. Usually, his padawan is the source of the vibrant energy that fills a room, but now he's just...

He can feel their bond. Feel how it's muted and strained. I'm here, he projects through it, unsure whether Anakin can hear him or not. I'm here, for you my padawan.

Another gentle suggestion from Windu to continue. Obi-Wan looks away as they are loading him onto a stretcher.

There's so much blood.

Obi-Wan looks to the sky, hoping that maybe if he tilts his head back the tears will stay put. But as he does, a distinctive neon green speeder flies overhead, too low to be in the traffic lane and too fast to be landing. His eyes narrow, and Obi-Wan knows his next objective.

[wannawritefast]

Whiplash: Ch. 4- Pretending

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the love on the last part! I totally didnt realize there was no title or link to the previous part. I distinctly remember doing that... maybe Tumblr had a goof... Just a heads up that a fixed it and all that jazz. 

Pt. 3

Pairing: Gwilym Lee! Brian Lee x Reader

Donna left the end of that weekend grateful to have spent time with her sister. And you felt equally as grateful to have gotten some bonding time before the holidays rolled around.

You and Brian continued your charade until before long it was time to leave for your family’s house. There was a plethora of Christmases where you didn’t want to go back home for the holidays or even want to celebrate the ‘happiest time of the year’ at all. But this Christmas… this one took the fruitcake.

The night before you left you didn’t get a wink of sleep. You often chalked it up to the fact that your cat was not present (having been put in a kennel earlier that day) and the subsequent lack of him in your bed. But you knew deep down that it was because, this time, you would be coming home with a boyfriend. A fake one.

That seemed to scare you more than you thought it should. If they didn’t believe you or if they found out, you would NEVER be able to live it down. And then there was Brian.

He was too kind and sweet and caring and goofy to you. He treated you better than you deserved. Sometimes you didn’t think it was real. Brian was your best friend and you knew that you could always depend on him. If anything ever happened to jeopardize that, you didn’t know what you’d do.

The two of you left in the mid-morning on the 21st, Brian picking you up and getting breakfast along the way. It took a few hours but you got to your parents’ house by mid-afternoon. Even though you jammed to cassettes the whole way there, your nerves still wracked your body.

7 days at your parents’ house in the English country and 7 days at his. Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

Finally the two of you arrived at your family’s big country house, pulling up in front of the large property. Brian put the car in park and turned off the engine. He reached to unbuckle his seatbelt in the now silent car but you grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Brian, we don’t have to do this,” you looked him right in the eye.

He coughed out a chuckle. “What?”

“We can turn around right now. I can just say I got sick,” you reached to turn the ignition but he shooed your hands away.

“We’ve come this far and you want to turn around?” Brian questioned. You nodded emphatically. “Oh, come on now. I’m ready and you’re ready.”

“No, Brian,” you let out a panicked breath. This was such a bad idea. You should have just been honest with them from the beginning. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We’re basically at the front door,” he turned in his seat. “We can’t go back now.”

“Watch me,” you reached for the ignition again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Brian grabbed your hand and held it. “We’re here. It’s going to be alright.”

You looked out the windows nervously for any sign that your parents or siblings had seen you arrive. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not.” Brian fiddled with your fingers and kissed the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies again. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that, he unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his car door and went straight to the trunk, making sure that his keys were in his pocket. You jumped out after him. He was smart. Leaving the vehicle before you could object further… 

He opened the latch and was beginning to take out the luggage. “Brian, I mean it. We can still leave. No one’s seen-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” His green-eyed gaze was fixed on the front door.

“Y/N’S HOME!!”

“Y/N’S HOME!!” Donna exclaimed, throwing the door open. Her voice echoed down the driveway. She was clad in a Christmas jumper that your mum had made for you, your brother, and your sister a few years back. Mum always insisted that you wear it for at least one day when you visited. As per her request, it was folded neatly at the bottom of your luggage.

“It’s too late,” you whispered to yourself. “If we regret this, it’s not my fault.”

“We’ll be okay,” Brian put an arm around you and you leaned lazily into the hug.

“Y/n! My baby!” That was mum. Although your mum was loud at times, you loved her a lot. Your mother hustled from the front door clad in a loudly patterned apron, which itself was covered in flour and sugar. 

“This doesn’t seem too bad,” he mused to you.

You looked at him from the side of your eyes. “Oh, just you wait.”

You took Brian’s hand and moved to meet them in the middle. Your sister practically jumped on you and knocked you over when she gave you a hug; the two of you tumbled as you hit the ground in a burst of laughter. Brian and your mother both rushed to help the two of you up.

“Hey, Brian,” Donna gave him a friendly hug. “So did she drive you crazy on the way here?”

“Absolutely bonkers.” He teased. You scoffed and bumped him with your shoulder.

“Hi, mum.” You moved to embrace your mother and she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. She held you at arms length. 

“I missed you so much.” She gushed. Her fingers moved to hold your face. You couldn’t help your smile. 

“It’s only been like a month and a half.” You laughed at her emotions.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss my daughter!” Your mother exclaimed. “Of course your father misses you too! I tried to get him to take work off today to come greet you two but you know him!” Unfortunately, you did. She rubbed your arms soothingly, turning her attention to Brian. “Now... introduce me to this strapping young man!”

You rolled your eyes but, deep down, it was your stomach that was really rolling. “Mum, this is Brian, my boyfriend.” That word still felt weird.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Brian,” she said as he extended his hand for her to shake. Your mother brushed his hand aside and pulled him into a tight sweet hug. Brian took it with a chuckle. “You don’t need to be formal with me. If you’re good enough for Y/n, you’re more than good enough for me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n,” he replied politely. Brian put an arm around your shoulders for emphasis. You wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Please, call me ‘Y/m/n.’” She froze all of a sudden. “Wait a second… is this the Brian from university?!” Your mum turned to you.

“Yes,” you smiled at your mom, “that’s where we met.”

“Oh my heavens! I remember you talking about Brian!” Your mother excitedly recalled. Uh-oh… 

You laughed nervously and feigned forgetfulness. “What? I don’t think I remember-”

“I do!” She insisted. “You were her best friend.”

“I’d like to think I still am,” Brian replied. “I’m honestly surprised she didn’t run for the hills the moment I opened my mouth.”

Your mother chuckled, “Nonsense! I can see why she said you were so charming. And I remember one time she called me and said that she thought she fancied-”

“OKAY MUM!” Donna cut her off. Brian gave you and her a confused look. Thank God for Donna… “Don’t we have something in the oven?”

“Oh, good heavens! You’re right! Donna will show you to your room.” She turned and ran back inside. “JAMES!” She screeched. “HELP YOUR SISTERS AND BRIAN WITH THE LUGGAGE!”

There was grumbling from inside the house and you steeled yourself for the arrival of your brother. You turned to face Brian quickly as the two of you went back to the car to grab your bags. “I apologize in advance for anything that he says.”

“I can handle it.” He assured you. “I’ve already heard snippets of his typical vocabulary. I’ll be okay.”

As if on cue your brother materialized in the doorway looking classy as ever in an old pair of denim trousers and a stained t-shirt. He tiredly hobbled over, giving Brian a strange look as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You must be Brian,” James grumbled out. He looked him up and down suspiciously. “I see my sisters weren’t lying about you.”

“I am very much real. Were you expecting a bloke that looked like me? Perhaps less poodle-ish,” Brian called out, trying to lighten the mood up a little bit as he pulled another suitcase from the trunk.

Your brother hummed, unsatisfied, and finally looked at you. “You brought him.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t lying,” you said, cocking your head up proudly.

James hummed again, eyeing your, unbeknownst to him, fake boyfriend. Brian leaned against the car, having unloaded the last of the luggage, nodding a greeting at your brother.

“We’re definitely dating,” you urged. You stood next to Brian and he kissed the side of your head, while you stared down James.

James hummed a third time, oddly quiet. He glanced between you and Brian as if trying to see through the ruse. You were getting nervous.

“Yeah,” your brother stared right through you, “we’ll see about that.”

You, Brian, and Donna fidgeted nervously, not quite sure how to respond to what he said.

You cleared your throat and attempted to diffuse the tension. “Is this any way to greet your sister?”

He gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a half-assed hug. Ah, yes, the depth of your brother’s affection… 

Brian and James went to work grabbing the luggage wordlessly. You grabbed one of your bags and walked arm-in-arm with Donna. The two of you shared a look as you went inside and up the stairs.

“Here you go, lovebirds.” James half-tossed the luggage into his old room. 

So this was where your mum had placed the two of you… It was the quietest and most isolated room in the house. Sitting above the garage, in the corner of the second floor, it was hard to disturb anyone with noise especially since the other two rooms on the floor were a decent distance away.

You wouldn’t have minded the space so much if the bed wasn’t a full-size and Bri wasn’t such a tall man.

“Are…” you started, “we sharing?” You hadn’t prepared for this. You couldn't even look at Brian. 

You hadn’t counted on this being a part of the deal. And, of course, neither had Brian. God… you should have asked! At the very least to prepare yourself… To prepare Brian. You felt a pit forming in your belly. 

“Yep,” he responded. “Mum figured the two of you would want to stay in the same area during your stay.”

“She and dad were okay with that?”

James leaned against the doorway. Donna stood behind him sheepishly. She had left that part out conveniently during the phone calls. “Mum was insistent. Dad put up more of a fight. They agreed though eventually.”

You looked at him with your mouth ajar, much like a fish. “Oh.”

“Is that going to be an issue?” James looked you and your fake boyfriend in the eye, a challenge.

Brian jumped to action. “Not at all. Thank you, James.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile and walked away with his arms crossed. You waited to hear his footsteps go down the creaky stairs before tearing into Donna.

She lowered her voice with her arms outstretched in front of her. “Before you yell at me, I didn’t know how to tell you. There are ears everywhere.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You couldn't have mentioned that? Like at all?”

“I’m sorry!” She whisper-yelled. “What would you have wanted me to do? Say that the two of you shouldn’t share a room? It’ll be easier to communicate with the both of you in the same space. Could you imagine being separate for a week while you try to pull this off?”

You supposed she was right. “No, no. You’re right.” You took a deep breath and changed your tone of voice so the rest of the house could hear you. “Thank you, Donna. I think we’re going to nap.”

She matched your tone. “Of course! I’ll let the two of you get settled in!” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ at her before she closed the door behind her and skipped away.

And then there were two.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Br- What are you doing?”

Brian was setting up his luggage next to the loveseat in the room and had found the spare blankets from the closet. He was making a bed on the couch. If he thought he was taking the couch, you’d be damned.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re making my bed, how kind of you! But really I’m the host so I must insist that you leave your accommodations to me, Mr. May.” You grabbed the spare pillow out of his hand and kicked his bag toward the bed. You began lugging your bag close to the couch. Brian stuck his foot out and stopped the bag.

“‘Your’ bed? I’m taking the couch.” He gently grabbed your bag and chucked it onto the bed. Your jaw dropped.

“No, Brian. I’m taking the couch. You’re too tall for it.” It was true. You could fit the couch much more comfortably than he could.

“Ah, but you see, as your boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, “I must be chivalrous and relinquish the bed to my beloved.”

“You’re being an ungrateful guest,” you countered.

He winced. “Low blow.”

“I’m not above it.” Brian snatched the pillow back and began rubbing his hair on it. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Staking my claim,” he answered, matter-of-factly. His hair was a static-y mess. As if to prove his point he tossed his body haphazardly onto the couch and sprawled out, limbs and all. “This is mine.”

“You act like you laying on top of something is going to deter me in any way.” You laughed at his logic. “Being on the couch does not mean it is suddenly uninhabitable.”

“It does.” He pointedly stretched his limbs out more. “Watch me.”

“This argument is going nowhere.”

“I agree. Which is why you should just let me take the couch.”

“What if we-”

A knock on the door sounded. Brian shot up and the two of you tossed the blankets and pillow haphazardly on the bed. You answered the door with Brian hovered closely behind you.

James. He had a smirk on his face. How much of the conversation had he heard?

“Yes?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it or not but I thought I’d be thorough and tell you that this room gets rather cold in the winters. The garage isn’t insulated and neither are the walls that this room shares with it.”

“Oh, really?”

“I mean, you’re already sharing a bed so that’ll help but you might want to grab some extra blankets on top of that. Perhaps a second bed’s worth.” He peeked in to see the mound of blankets on the bed. “But it looks like the two of you have already figured that out.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yep. Thanks for the pointer.”

James hummed a laugh. “Anytime.” And like the asshole he was he sauntered away humming a Bob Dylan song. You pushed the door closed and rested your forehead on it.

“We could switch nights?” You offered. Brian knew you better than that; of all the sensations that you hated (fatigue, hunger, headache, etc.) being cold was what you loathed the most.

“Or we could just share the bed like they suspect us to…” He suggested. You looked at him. He didn’t seem to be pulling your leg.

“You wouldn’t be uncomfortable with that?” Your fingers picked at the ends of your hair.

Brian had his hands on his hips. “Not at all. Unless you would be.”

You looked him in the eye and then to the floor, your arms crossed. “I’m fine with it.”

“I guess we’ll share it then,” he affirmed.

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p.’

The two of you looked at the surrounding room and its four walls. The couch. The bed. The windows. Anywhere but each other. This was real. All the time you had pretended to be dating before you got to your parents house suddenly felt like dress rehearsals. This. This was real. And things were different.

This was showtime.

“Well, then,” Brian filled the silence. “Now that it’s settled why don’t we set up the room? We did tell them we were taking a nap. We can get settled a little bit.” 

You nodded.

“I’ll do the bed if you do the closet?”

You nodded wordlessly again and took a deep breath before kicking off your shoes and opening the closet. You heard Brian take off his coat and toss it onto the couch. You set yours on top of his and reminded yourself to put in the coat closet downstairs by the front door.

As promised you began hanging some of your items and with Brian’s permission began helping him with his. The bathroom that was conjoined to the room soon had your various shampoo, tooth brushes, and regular hair brushes strewn across the counter top and among the shelves in the shower.

Amongst the thoughts of how absolutely spoiled rotten James had been up here while you and your sister had to share a smaller room was another more alarming notion. As you put yours and Brian’s shoes down on the floor of the closet and split the drawers between the two of you your mind drifted to the small part of it that realized how naturally it looked, how naturally it felt to have the items in the same space. To have Brian’s giant shoes next to yours. To have his various hair brushes that resembled Medieval torture devices right next to your own weapons of choice. To dance and bustle about a small space in a rhythm so natural that an onlooker would swear it was rehearsed.

“You’ve been awfully pensive,” Brian snapped you out of your stupor as you pulled a dress of yours onto a hangar and set it on your side of the closet trying to move in such a way that maybe you’d forget your hands were shaking and maybe Brian wouldn’t notice your hands shaking. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I…” you took a breath. You didn’t really know what to say. Instead you just turned and let yourself fall onto the couch back first and stared up at the blank ceiling. “This is really happening.”

“Hey.” Brian appeared into view as we walked to you and looked down. “Are you alright?”

You finally made eye contact with Brian and shook your head. Trying to will your tears back into your ducts with the help of good old-fashioned gravity you stared back up at the ceiling again.

Brian rushed to crouch at your side. “Woah, woah, woah. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You turned to face him and sat up so that he could sit next to you on the couch. “No, it wasn’t you. I’m just overwhelmed. I still can’t believe I’m in this mess. That my family sees so much of my value in my relationships and not me. That it went this far. That I actually care so much about what they think even though I shouldn’t. That I dragged you into this.”

Brian hummed in understanding and pulled you into a hug. “Well, first of all, you didn’t drag me into this. I body slammed myself into this. You didn’t even really need to ask me to help you; if anything I dragged you into this. Remember our little moment on the driveway?”

Yes… How infuriatingly encouraging he had been. How embarrassingly frantic you had behaved. He was right. Brian was unfailingly loyal to you. If he hadn’t backed down then, when you had offered him a way out.

“You know you’re earning your ‘poodle’ title more and more,” you commented.

Brian cocked his head. “How so?”

“Lanky, tall, high-maintenance-”

“Feeling the love. Thank you.”

“But still an excellent companion and unbelievably sweet.”

Brian gave you a soft smile and rubbed his arm up and down your back. “If I was a humbler person I might tell you to stop.”

“Oh I’m stopping,” you said, sniffling back your tears and exhaling the panic. “If your head gets any more full of hot air, your hair is going to start defying the laws of physics without any assistance.”

“Yeah, you’re feeling better,” Brian quipped, feigning offense.

“I’m sorry… which one of us brought more brushes and styling products?”

“I want to make a good first impression! I may be a fake boyfriend but I still want your family to like me.” He defended.

“You’ll be great! Aside from James, you’d have to do something really out of character to get them to not like you.”

“Not this ‘be yourself’ stuff again,” Brian complained and threw his head back to rest on the back of the couch.

“It’s true. They’ll love you!” You encouraged him.

Brian’s face took on that infamous cheeky expression. Uh-oh… “Is it because I’m… so charming?”

Your face flushed in remembrance of what your mother had almost let slip. You leaned forward and covered your face with your hand. “Why did I know you were going to bring that up?”

“Because you know me better than anyone else.” He replied, matter-of-factly. 

“I think your mum might contend with me on that, Bri,” you offered.

“And I knew you were going to say that.” Brian shrugged in consideration. “Fine. You and my mum know me better than anyone else.”

“Well,” you set your hand on his knee. A once platonic gesture, it felt different this time. You continued, hurrying your way through what you were going to say so that it wouldn’t be as awkward when you stopped touching, “since we know each other so well, I’d say we stock up on rest while we can.”

“You talk like we’re going to be running a marathon for the next week.”

“Trust me, Bri,” you responded, standing up and laying down comfortably on the bed. “You’re gonna need it.”

Brian looked at you in disbelief. “Oh please. I’ve dealt with concerts for years. How bad can it be?!”

TAGS: @andtheswordwentsnickersnack​ @phantoms-lynn​

[katherinewilliams221b]

A Date Before Christmas

This work belongs to the Secret Santa event by @hphmsecretsanta2020​​ and its my gift to @cursebreaker-lilith​​ ! Happy Holidays and thank you so much for making this possible!

I hope you like it despite being out of character lol. I felt very insecure writing about her so I kept it simple and with just a few details so I didnt  mess up the character.

Summary: Lili and Penny spend and afternoon before Christmas having fun in Hogsmeade. Pairing: MC x Penny

A/N: Consider this piece an AU of your timeline lmao

--

The door to the Slytherin common room was closed behind her. The place was deserted, everyone was either in the great hall or on their way to Hogsmeade for the beginning of Christmas.

Perfect.

Lili sat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire and watched through the window the different water creatures that passed in front of her.

She looked down at her fingernails, thinking about the note she had received that morning and how she had reacted without thinking about the consequences.

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the scroll in question to read it again for the umpteenth time that day, as if every time she laid eyes on it she would find a way to calm the nerves that were eating her alive.

"What do you have there?"

Rowan's voice startled her, and she hurriedly crumpled up the letter and put it back in her pocket. However, Rowan had already seen it.

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in the Great Hall..."

"I've been reading for a while and I wanted to write a letter to my parents before Christmas... what's that?"

"What?" Lilith put her legs up on the couch and shrank to fit in it. She kept looking at the lake water through the window.

"Come on, I'm not stupid. You can tell me anything..."

With a slight roll of the eyes, she took out the crumpled ball of paper from her pocket and handed it to Rowan without making eye contact.

Her friend moved her eyes quickly across the paper and raised her eyebrows before smiling.

"Penny asked you out?"

"She says it doesn't have to be a date..."

"And what did you say?"

Lili looked at Rowan and then at the flames in the fireplace.

"I said yes."

Rowan stared at her. "You don't seem very happy...you've been wanting something like this to happen for months.”

"Rowan, I don't know... what are we going to do?"

"With what?"

"With Penny! If it's a date, then... what am I going to do with her?

"It says here that she's inviting you to some Butterbeers at Hogsmeade. Sounds like a good plan to me."

"Yeah, but it's not the same as having butterbeers as a friend as it is a date. It's different, there are expectations... I don't know, Rowan, I shouldn't have said yes."

"Lili, we're talking about Penny. You've been to Hogsmeade many times and you always have a good time. It's no different now..."

"Yes! Yes it is!"

She got up from her chair and marched towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. Rowan ran after her and found her lying face down on her bed.

"You're exaggerating, which is counterproductive since you have to meet someone in an hour."

Lili grunted against the pillow and turned around to face the ceiling.

"What should I wear?" She murmured.

"Maybe you should ask Andre, I'm not the best person to..."

"No. Because if I ask Andre, I'll have to tell him I have a a date and he'll ask me with whom and I don't want him to know.”

Rowan sat down on her own bed in front of Lili and sighed. "This is not like you. You have to think more clearly..."

She tapped her fingers to her thigh and despite she knew that Rowan was still talking, she couldn't concentrate on her friend's words. Her gaze shifted to her trunk. She got up with a jump and started throwing Alfred's toys to the floor to be able to open the trunk.

"...so maybe should...what are you doing?"

"I know what to wear." she simply stated.

Rowan caught some pieces of clothing that Lili was throwing, and watched with resignation as she tidied up her room.

"The green scarf and... the black boots should do. Don't look at me like that, I'll tidy up later.

"Yeah...right... Rowan muttered as she watched her friend leave the room armed with a pile of clothes.

Twenty minutes later, Lili emerged from the bathroom enfolded in a black jacket, a green hat that matched her scarf and black boots to complete the look.

"Hoop or stars?” She extended her arms to show two pairs of earrings to Rowan, who lowered her book to look at them.

"Those." Rowan pointed at the hoop earrings and Lili walked to a mirror to put them on.

"Alright, I'm ready."

 The feelings of confidence were gradually dissipated as they passed through the corridors of the castle. The lights that decorated the walls and ceiling created an aura of tranquillity and familiarity that she tried to hold on to.

Right at the doors of the lGreat Hall, there was Penny, clad in a pale pink coat and a matching hat. She smiled at the sight of Lili and rose to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm too late?”

"Just in time. Let's go! Madam Pudifoots is waiting for us."

"Have you booked a table?"

"Yes, I thought some hot tea would do us good. Then we can walk around Hogsmeade, it's all beautifully decorated.”

 The trip to the village was quiet: Penny and Lili walked side by side, casually brushing up against each other from time to time. By the time they arrived, a few snowflakes had begun to fall.

"So you're going home this Christmas?

"Yes, Beatrice decided that she wanted to spend Christmas with the family, so I'm not going to miss that opportunity. What are you going to do?"

"I still don't know." They passed a man selling chestnuts but politely declined his offer.

"I don't recommend them," said Lili, "unless you want sparks to fly off your tongue!" They laughed together to the door of the tearoom and entered, immediately feeling the warmth of the place.

"Hello, my dears! What can I do for you? Table for two?"

"Good afternoon, I've reserved a table."

"Oh! Sure, right this way! I've put you somewhere a bit more private, you know, people don't usually book here so I figured it would be something important.”

The woman took them to the end of the shop, leading them to a table behind the curtain that separated the main hall. They made themselves comfortable and asked each other for their tea, trying to avoid each other's gaze. As a courtesy, Madam Pudifoots brought them a small plate of biscuits.

"Since I'm leaving tomorrow morning, I thought I'd give you this," said Penny, rummaging through her coat.

"You bought me a present?"

"Yes! I hope you like it..." She took a small package from her coat and slid it across the table. She waited impatiently for Lili to unwrap it, but she just stared at it. After a few seconds she looked up and smiled.

"I brought you something too." Penny grinned and accepted the small wooden box.

Lili opened her package to find three different coloured scrunchies and some pairs of matching socks. Excited, she chose the green one and tied part of her hair back. "I love them!"

Penny's reaction was much more exaggerated. It seemed that she had got it right with the hair clips... She put several butterflies in her braids.

"They are beautiful, Lili, they match my jumper."

"And there's more..." Penny raised her eyebrows but before I could ask what she meant; several butterflies started flying around her head. Lili looked on with a smile as Penny tried to catch them, laughing all the time.

"They are bewitched, they take a while to become clips again."

"They are brilliant! Thank you, Lili."

 The tea was well received, and they spent an hour chatting about the classes, potions, and the new collection of Gladrags Wizardwear.

 For once, Lili felt comfortable and not guilty about not thinking about the vaults.

They paid on their way out and willingly accepted the Christmas treat that Madam Pudifoot gave them.

"Do you want to go to Gladrags?"

"Yes! Last week I saw a skirt that I liked."

They walked for a while but nature had other plans; the temperature dropped abruptly and a strong blizzard rose, making it difficult for visitors to walk through the village.

"We can make a strategic stop at Zonko's..." proposed Lili.

"Maybe we will meet Tonks."

The sound of the door bells warning of the arrival of a new buyer was not heard amidst the laughter and commotion of the children visiting the shop. Several lights exploded on the roof and Penny and Lili had to dodge several flying objects. They approached a special Christmas section.

"This is fun, there is a present inside and two people have to pull on both sides," said Penny holding a green package.

"Look! Zonko has put up a Christmas tree! Lili approached it, it was decorated with floating candles, lights and colourful ornaments.

"It will be one of the few things here that are harmless." Penny laughed.

She ate her words as one of the Christmas ornaments doubled in size when Lili touched it and a green liquid exploded in her face.

Both girls broke into laughter as Lili tried to get what appeared to be drool of some creature.

"Ah, I see you have discovered my surprise decorations..." said the owner offering Lili a napkin. She looked at him suspiciously and Zonko laughed. "It's only paper.”

 After several scares and jokes later, Lili grabbed Penny's hand and dragged her into the street.

"The blizzard has stopped, let's go before it closes! They walked together hand in hand, none of them wanted to let go. When they arrived at the clothing shop, they examined the shop window for anything that caught their attention.

"Is that the skirt you wanted?"

Penny nodded enthusiastically and pointed to a mannequin. "And that shirt would look great!" They laughed as several eyes fell on them. They noticed it and tried to turn off their laughter, but when they looked at each other, they couldn't resist and the giggles started again.

 Lili was sitting in front of the dressing room where Penny was changing her clothes. When she came out, the blonde turned around and waited for the verdict.

"It looks great on you but... better with the yellow top."

"Isn't it too flashy?"

"That's the idea..." Penny went back into the fitting room with a little smile.

"Well, I won't buy it today anyway. I'll wait for the sales. What do you want to do now?"

Lili got up from her seat and started walking around the shop. A red jacket caught her attention and she went straight to touch it.

"I don't know... some sweets? We can stop by Honeydukes to see how it is decorated."

"Sounds good!"

 The place was packed but they still managed to make their way through the crowd. They looked around in amazement. As many times as they had gone to that shop, each year they outdid themselves in creating the most fun and colourful atmosphere in all of Hogsmeade. Penny went straight to the cotton candy, while Lili kept her eye on some little heart-shaped candies.

She turned to see Penny paying and rushed to grab a handful of the candy. She waited impatiently for the change after paying, and hid the bag in her jacket.

"Here you are" announced Penny from behind a giant pink cotton candy. "If you behave yourself, maybe I'll give you some.” Lili rolled her eyes before giggling and stole some cotton candy from the cone.

They spent the next few hours wandering around the place, trying out some chocolate samples and listening to the Christmas music playing over the speakers.

As they left, the memory of the noisy shop made the street seem quieter than usual.

It was dark, but the lights on the facades were bright enough to walk around in peace.

"Do you want to go get a Butterbeer?" Penny asked.

 "Let's sit down for a while." Lili pointed to a stone bench in front of them and they cleared the snow so they could sit down. She took the bag out of her pocket and gave her date the candies she had saved. "I bought you this..."

Penny accepted the bag in surprise but finally a smile appeared in her mouth.

"I bought you something too..." Penny reached into her pockets and pulled out a small green package. "Shall we open it?"

They pulled the ends to break the package, which exploded in the air with lights of various colours. They laughed as several things fell on their heads.

"A beaded bracelet..."

"And some lemon drops!"

"Penny..."

The atmosphere suddenly became serious, the blonde waited with concern for Lili to say what she was thinking.

"It was a great date."

Penny smiled before nodding, agreeing with her friend's opinion. Leaning forward, she put her hand on Lili's.

"I agree.”

Lili approached as well and placed her lips on Penny's in a sweet, short peck. They both smiled before getting up.

"To the three broomsticks?”

"To the three broomsticks."

--

[mommymooze]

Death By Association

Hubert approaches the woman who is bent down at the table, silently pouring through various tomes and books in the library. He coughs into his fist. “You have requested my presence?”

You look up suddenly and stand erect, making a respectful bow. “General Von Vestra, thank you so much for gracing me with a few moments of your valuable time.”

“Yes, my time is quite valuable. Proceed.” Hubert eyes the woman cautiously. He has seen her around for several months but does not recall working with her directly.

“I am a cleric, in General Von Hevring’s battalion. I also work in the medical tents treating the wounded. Sometimes Linhardt will discuss his research with me. This particular subject is one that he has lost interest in, however I believe this is something I must share with you.”

You advise that you have been studying plagues following wars throughout history. Making notes of transmission methods, symptoms, etcetera. You have been studying this subject for several years.  Thus far there have been no unknown illnesses or diseases that have affected the masses, however there is something unique you must discuss with him.

You look about the library seeing no others.

“I have seen six victims.” You begin, “the first a few years ago. The other five within the last year. It was quite gruesome. I have recorded the symptoms that I have been able to identify. Most concerning is as the illness comes to its end, the subjects begin to bleed profusely, their blood is hot, appearing to be boiling out of them. It is so hot that their clothing catches fire. Anything that was used to clean their blood begins smoke and catch fire as well. Needless to say it is a horrible death.”

“What interest would I have in this?” Hubert stares intently.

“The two most recent deaths were from your own battalion. The dark magic corps, correct?”

“Yes.” He mutters, still eyeing you suspiciously.

“The last battle at Gronder was horrific.” Your voice trembles, “Only those two were affected. Bleeding from their eyes and hands. Bloody noses that would not stop. We quarantined them. Their symptoms worsened quickly until their blood boiled out and they died. We pursued multiple ways to fight this affliction. Healing merely slows the process. We placed one subject in a deep bath filled with ice water. His temperature continued rising higher and higher. He burst into flames while submerged in the water.” You shudder, crying as you recall the gruesome deaths.

“Could it be…” Hubert abruptly stops.

Within the hour you are in a meeting room with Emperor Edelgard, Hubert, and Linhardt. Hubert provides a succinct summary of your findings.

Linhardt speaks. “It is obvious that it has something to do with the Agarthans.”

“There are quite a few in Hubert’s battalion.” You comment.

“How do you know about them.” Hubert stands, leaning over toward you and glaring.

“I am one of their failed experiments, courtesy of our beloved friend, Cornelia.” You subconsciously hug yourself, looking away.  

“How do you recognize them?” Hubert’s eyes still piercing you.

“I can smell them.” You snarl.

 The Emperor excuses herself after placing a high priority on obtaining a solution. The remaining three brainstorm on what is known, what is suspected, and what can be done. Tomes and books are brought in from Claude and Lin’s room as well as Abyss. Hubert assigns several of his spies to multiple battalions, other Generals battalions to monitor what occurs in his own unit.

Reviewing the data gathered thus far, it is obvious advanced magic is needed. The green haired cleric suggests Rhea and Seteth’s rooms. You split up, he takes Rheas quarters, while you take the other, agreeing to bring any items of interest back here.

You scour the books on the shelves of his office. There are a few tomes but none contain the desired spells. You search Seteth’s bedroom, moving every object you can.  You check the two bookshelves. One is easily pushed to the side, the other will not budge. You resort to removing all books from the shelves until you find a lever behind a book. Once pulled, the bookshelf swings into the room. On the back of the shelf is a recessed area shelving several unique and very old tomes. Snatching them up, you return to the meeting room.

Two books are historical, probably interesting to Hubert. One is written in a language that you cannot understand.  Two are filled with clerical procedures and spells. Some you’ve seen in practice as part of church services, some you have never heard referenced before.

Lin returns several hours later. Not that he had found anything particularly interesting, but he did take a nap in Rhea’s bed.

The green haired healer peers at the spell book you wave in front of his face. His eyes widen as he reads through the runes and incantations that are recorded. The spell you have the greatest interest in is “Purifying Light.” The two of you begin to make notes, dissecting the spell into its component parts.

Early the next morning Hubert enters the room bringing coffee, which you graciously accept. You have been so absorbed in the research you had not noticed the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon. You and Linhardt have nearly completed the mapping and logic stream of the spell. Hubert, having very little experience with this type of magic, does not completely follow your cryptic writings, that does not stop him from asking many questions about the effects, the intent.

You explanation the dissection of the spell. “Its purpose is to banish the darkness from a person. A spiritual exorcism. If they are too far gone, it may simply end them, in a peaceful manner hopefully. The texts do not discuss unexpected effects or results. Primarily the intended target is a victim of a high level dark magic spell. If you are banishing the darkness, what will happen to those that have cast nothing but dark magic all of their lives? We still have much more to investigate. The Agarthans live in near total darkness. Surely a spell creating a pure light would have a pronounced effect on them as well as those that they have contaminated.”

The sun traverses the sky and begins to descend in the west when you finally decide your productivity level is too low and you need sleep. Heading to your room you think of Hubert. He has been helpful throughout the research, frequently checking on you, bringing food and coffee and insisting you take breaks, walking with you around the monastery getting exercise.

Several weeks pass, you are prepared to test the spell. Hubert is away on a mission, his battalion with him. You and Lin agree the timing is perfect, keeping the Agarthans unaware of this spell. The pair move to the magical training area, specifically the fireproof area. You cast the spell, the sigils glowing before you as you concentrate on the proper movement and sequence while reciting the verbal components of the spell, at the final words a bright radiance fills a glass sphere that is floating in a basin of holy water, the two physical spell components. The orb rises into the air and glows with a bright whiteness, the intensity of the light increases to the point of needing to shade your eyes. Suddenly the room is in complete darkness as the spell concludes.  

Blinking your eyes to readjust to the normal light in the room, both of you inspect the walls and floors of the stone structure to see if anything has changed. Besides feeling physically warm there is no affect to your person. The room smells…clean. You cannot see any traces of mold or mildew on the walls.

The components are reset. Linhardt casts the spell, it does not seem to be as bright as yours, his movements are not as crisp, nor did he care to be as precise as you. Still, you both feel warm. The room is unchanged. You casually wonder if it can remove that permanent funky smell in the laundry room.

Two nights later, Hubert warps into the monastery. He is accompanied by one of his spies hiding within his battalion.

“This man was standing next to an Agarthan when they were killed. As we have seen in the past, many of those that slither crumble to dust when killed, especially in the daylight. We had to wait until my man was separated from the rest of the battalion. I believe he is showing signs of the illness.”

The spy, now patient, is holding a cloth to his nose. Blood runs down his face and hand, pooling under his fingernails. The clerics don thick aprons and gloves, a table is moved to the spellcasting training area. The fireproof area is chosen again. Losing the infirmary to an explosion or fire would be devastating.

The patient is calmed and lying prone on the table. You remove the patient’s shirt, exposing more of his skin to the light that will be created by the spell. Fresh holy water is poured into the basin next to the patient, the glass orb is now floating.

Reviewing the spell a final time, you raise your hands to cast, warning everyone to shade their eyes.The patient uses one hand to hold the cloth under his bleeding nose, the other covering his eyes.

Casting the Purifying Light spell, you manipulate the sigils, then recite the verbal incantation, your voice more powerful than the last time as you have gained confidence having cast the spell before. The orb floats high into the air, the water pulled up into it to fuel the light, then a bright flash occurs, the spell ending with a distinct ‘pop’ and the room goes dark.

Uncovering your eyes, you run over to the patient, fingers to his throat. He still has a pulse! He removes his hand from his eyes, suddenly turning away from you, coughing and hacking viciously, then vomits. Linhardt takes a cloth to wipe the disgusting mess from the table.

Studying the expelled liquid on the cloth, Linhardt comments. “This is very black and fine. Much finer than blood in his system. It resembles a powder.” The green haired scholar surmises. “Like dead Agarthan dust.”

Linhardt checks the patient further. “He is breathing well, no longer bleeding. His fingers now look clear, no blood pooling.“ He asks the man on the table, “How are you feeling?”

“I feel warm. There are other things, but mostly warm.” He says with a smile, happy that he can breathe again.

You  turn to Hubert, bolting to where he was standing. He is now lying on the ground. You realize nobody had warned him it would be in his best interest not to remain within the room during the spell casting as you had no idea how it would affect him. You hastily sit him up, sitting on the floor next to him, anxiously checking him out. His pulse is fine. You put your ear on his chest to listen and see if anything is wrong.

“Mmmmm.” Hubert hums. “It is incredibly warm.”

“I’m so sorry, Hubert. Did you hit your head? Are you hurt?” Your hands brushing any dirt from his clothes. He looks to be a bit dazed. You pull his eyelids open checking his pupils, grasping his face to turn his head this way and that.

“No, I recall a bright light and then found myself on the floor. I am not experiencing pain.” Hubert says slowly, as if he has to think twice before speaking any word.

“When you are ready, I will help you to stand. We should take you to your room, as well as inform the Emperor of the current events.”

Hubert takes a moment to situate himself then takes your hand, with your assistance is able to stand.

Hubert looks down at your hand in his. “Your hand is incredibly warm. Not hot, not burning. Just…warm.” He at you. “You also appear to be glowing.” His brows furrow.

Linhardt interrupts without looking up from the patient, “Yes, she was last time she cast this spell too.”

You look at Hubert unsure if he is well. “Let’s get you to your quarters, General.” You turn him around to make certain any dirt from his fall is brushed away.

As you lead him to the door he takes your hand in his again. “Still warm.” He smiles walking toward his quarters holding your hand,

He arrives, opens his door, then waves causing several candles flicker to life. He ushers you inside and closes the door behind you.

“How are you feeling now? Any dizziness?” You cautiously ask, heaven forbid if you did anything to one of Adrestia’s greatest generals. You lead him to sit on the chair next to his desk.

Hubert thinks for a moment, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. “I do not recall striking my head or falling. I recall the spell, the bright light and the popping noise. Then you were assisting me to stand. My hands feel oddly sensitive.”

You frown, quite concerned. “Hubert, please remove your gloves?”

“This has nothing to do with me or my hands.” Hubert responds curtly.

Well, that sounds more like him. “Humor me. I’ve seen them before.” Your voice stern, sounding more like the cleric you are.

The dark mage reluctantly pulls his gloves off his hands, you grasp his fingers in yours and pull them closer to the light. You notice the fingers are not as dark black as they had been, the purple streaks only going into his palms, no longer covering his wrist. You take your fingernail and scrape it under his pinky finger.

“Why did you do that?” he snaps at you hastily pulling his hand from your grasp.

“Because I could. Look.” You take his hand, showing him his palm.

Hubert stares, first at one hand, then the other. Touching his fingertips together. There is a look upon his face that you have never seen before, a look of awe.

“How…?” The man is mystified, staring as he clenches his fingers into a fist, then uncurls them.

“My apologies, Hubert. Linhardt and I had discussed that prior to performing the spell that we should ask you to remove yourself from range. We were not certain how the spell would affect you. Our error is serendipitous for you. It appears to have reversed some of the scarring.”

Hubert shakes his head. “I have not had this much sensation of feeling in my fingers for years.” His voice softens as he stares at his fingers again.

“We must report to Her Majesty.” You remind him. Definitely distracted.

“Absolutely.” Hubert stands, brushing himself off and then taking your hand in his as quickly guides you to the Emperor’s room and knocks. “Apologies, my Emperor, there is a matter we must discuss.”

He pulls you by the hand into her room, keeping it clasped in his. He explains his rushed return, the performing of the spell and that everything thus far is considered a complete success.

Emperor Edelgard peers at the two of you slightly squinting, spying that he is holding your hand tightly. “Thank you, Hubert. Anything else?”

“No, my lady, you will have your report in the morning.” The general bows and so do you. He shows you to the door, returning to his room’s interior, refusing to release your hand.  

He proceeds to sit on the edge of his bed, you stand next to him.

“Hubert, you should rest.” You whisper softly placing the back of your free hand to his forehead to see if he is warm. He’s not.

“I will take your recommendation under consideration.” He says, less curtly than usual.

“I have had a busy day as well.” You say softly, looking down. “If you do not mind…” you look to your hand in his.

“What if I do mind?” Hubert says, looking into your eyes. “I find your presence comfortable.”

You think to yourself, others have said many times of how Hubert’s presence is so frightening, how he gives off a scary aura, however you have never seen him to be that way, never felt cold chills at his approach or terrified should he look at you.

“As I do yours.” You sit on the bed, a bit of space between you.

“I wish to thank you for restoring some sensation to my hands. We have tried many different spells and cures. How can I thank you?” Hubert looks a little overwhelmed.

“I charge you one hug.” You shyly slide your hands between his arms and body, pulling him into a hug, putting your nose into his neck so he cannot see the bright red flush of your cheeks.

Hubert, not the most practiced at hugs, wraps his long arms around you one hand above the other at the center of your back resting his cheek on top of your head.

You hear the most beautiful sigh as you give him a little squeeze.

[soysaucevictim]

“I started thinking about human nature...”

Summary: Janus thinks Remus started off on entirely the wrong right foot with him. This is how they became best friends since. (Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Tragicomedy, Comedy-Drama, I Don’t Know Man

Characters: Janus and Remus centric. Roman supporting.

Relationships: Dukeceit (platonic), Creativitwins (familial), Pre-Roceit (ambiguous)

Warnings: Injuries/blood, Creativitwin angst, implicit queerphobia, implicit ableism, physical abuse, disownment, chronic illness (psoriasis), Enemies to Best Friends, Remus Being Remus, Remus Is a Little Shit, Trans Masc / Nonbinary Remus, Janus Is A Good Friend, Remus Is A Good Friend, 2e Remus (Twice Exceptional), Protective Roman, Roman Is A Good Brother, Roman Isn’t Having a Good Time, Tonal Whiplash (Seriously)

-

Janus knew Remus since they were in high school. On age difference, they easily might’ve just missed each other – 4 years. But Remus did jump a grade in elementary school, demonstrating a precocious knack for SOME arenas of academics.

He was clearly gifted, especially when it came to things of mechanical nature. But he was also just as clearly troubled. It was a crying shame that most people paid more attention to the latter part. Truly.

So they met, when Janus was a junior and Remus a freshman.

Janus was also partway into the school’s 3+3 DPT program, to speed the process up for him to get to be a physical therapist in a few years out of high school. He had his reasons for that, reasons he’d much rather disclose to very few people.

Other than the market demand, to be sure. It wasn’t because he cared about people, and he’d be obstinate about making that point clear.

-

Remus wasted no time to leave an impression on the student body, in the first month of the school year. Though, at the time, no one knew it was him.

Janus was minding his own business in chemistry class when the school’s sprinkler systems went off. But something was… wrong.

It – it smelled like AXE body spray. Janus thought it was mostly water that went through the pipes, but it was unmistakable and overwhelming. He was caught by surprise like everyone else was, but still attempted to play it cool as he shoved his belongings into the desk to try to salvage them from the deluge.

Mr. Sanders yelped, just as confused as everyone else in the room, “What in the name of-!? I-I guess it’s fire drill time. Let’s go, class. Quickly and calmly.”

-

It turned out the entire first floor of the building was set off and only that floor (this campus had two of them).

The entire floor, positively reeked of the stuff for days. No one was was able to figure out what miscreant was responsible for this. Janus would absolutely leisure in the chaos of the student body and staff smelling like they vaped canisters of body spray. But, you see, Janus’s skin took objection to the whole experience, rather quickly.

At the tail end of middle school, Janus developed a few rashes, probably from stress or perhaps as a result of a strep infection. Which he quickly learned from his family doctor to be psoriasis, which was just fantastic. So, the chemical assault aggravated the already flaring up patches on his face and hands. He could give less of a shit about what other students would say about his appearance, but holy hell did it ITCH.

He was determined to figure out who the hell was responsible, to give him a piece of his mind.

-

Things appeared to go without incident for sometime, nearly a month. Not without Janus warily scanning the classrooms and occasionally the rest of the campus for anyone that just set off any alarm bells.

He finally met eyes with him in the cafeteria. Well, he still didn’t know that at the time.

Just this kid who dressed like a hot mess and rather ambiguously gendered lounging in the corner picking their nose and looking like they were about to doze off. It was as if someone threw a punk, an emo, and a dragster in a blender. Hit frappe, topping it all off with toxic green and black coat of paint. They really stood out, yet no one dared to approached them.

Janus did read some big “FUCK OFF” energy from him. Still, he was curious, “Hey.”

This kid’s attention snapped up pretty quick, with an excessive amount of drama to it, “And who might yooou be?”

Janus decided to withhold his name, just in case, “Dee. You?”

The kid shrugged, boldly going the flirtatious route, “Whatever you want me to be.”

“… I’m not interested in that… right now. You new around here?”

“Maaaybe.”

Janus was sure it was a shot in the dark, but he was getting increasingly agitated with his face, “Were you here during the AXE incident recently?”

The kid perked up suspiciously, “Maybe I was. Maaaybe I wasn’t.”

Janus lightly rubbed the patch on his cheek before pinching his nose in exasperation, “Can you not with this evasive bullshit?”

“Oooh... feisty.”

Perhaps his patience was on the thin side, but Janus felt a building urge to slap this fool. He sighed, “Well. Let’s just say – urg-”

The itching was unbearable at this point and he started to furiously rub his offending hand through his gloves. The kid looked almost concerned, “Uh. You okay?”

Janus lied through his teeth, “I’m fine. But whoever was responsible for that body spray shit certainly won’t be…”

The kid started to crack. Torn between seeming to find pleasure in making Janus squirm and a glint of actual concern. This only made Janus more mad, if he was perfectly honest. Janus just snipped out, “I don’t know what your angle is here, but I will figure it out.”

The kid seemed insulted, placing a hand on their chest, “I have no idea what the fuck your problem is, man. You came to me with the 20 Questions!… heh.”

Janus groaned, unsure of where he should take this, his gut telling him he was looking at the perpetrator of his current bout of absolute suffering. He could only muster turning on his heels and give the kid the “I’m watching you” signal.

The kid just cackled uproariously as they parted ways.

-

Yeah, Janus was certain that kid was responsible. He just knew it.

The two of them shared a pre-calculus class and the kid was just… snoring at their desk, by the time it was almost up. Ms. Crofters didn’t appreciate the insubordination, “SANCHEZ.”

Everyone was already starting to file out of the room, since the bell rang. Morning classes were rough for everyone, but this kid looked exhausted, actually. No, Janus was determined not to pity them. Janus simply watched the exchange play out.

“Sanchez” smacked their lips blearily responding with, a simple “… what?”

The teacher sighed and softened, “You really need to take this more seriously, I know you have so much potential, to be a freshman placed in this class. You just need to-”

They grumbled and rolled their eyes, “Whatever.”

The teacher remained seated, decided she was going nowhere and started to grade some papers in the break in between classes. Sanchez took the cue to stand up with their things and leave. Not before Janus was noticed for staring at the whole situation. Sanchez was surprisingly icy, “You got a problem with me, too?”

“Plead the fifth.”

Janus was now intrigued, sensing they might be a lot sharper than they seemed. Hints at them being more capable of pulling off tampering with the sprinkler system in such a noxious fashion.

-

Janus confronted them in the hallway, fiddling through their locker, “Don’t lie to me, Sanchez.”

Sanchez rolled their eyes, still playing coy, “Whatever do you mean, Dee?”

“I KNOW you fucking did it.”

“Did what?”

“I don’t know, not the surprise assault on the senses, weeks into the year!?”

“… your rash is looking pretty angry.”

“NAH. YOU THINK SO?!”

Sanchez finally began to placate a little, “Okay, I’m… I’m sorry.”

Janus was taken aback, not expecting the apology so easily, “What was that?”

“Hahaha… a few other kids wound up in the hospital thanks to that stunt I pulled. Asthma and shit like that. Almost got in a little bit of hot water.”

Staff still refused to state who perpetrated the mess, maybe this kid was far more brilliant than Janus could imagine.

“I didn’t take you for the kind of person who would give a damn about that sort of stuff.”

Sanchez simply shrugged in response.

Janus found himself staring into Sanchez’s locker, at random parts of electronics and diagrams haphazardly piled into it. “… what’s in there?”

“I dunno. Projects?”

“How helpfully vague.”

“Look, I just like keeping my hands busy, you know, fuck around and find out.”, Sanchez snorted at their own choice of words.

“Why… why did you put AXE in the system, in the first place?”

Sanchez threw up their arms and just said, “I dunno. One moment, it just started off as a ‘you know what would be fucking hilarious’ thought and the next I was going at the preaction sprinkler valve with a wrench, a bunch of cans of Provoke, and a soldering iron.”

“Aaand no part of you went, ‘why don’t we sleep on it’?”

“SLEEP!? Sleep is for the weak, amigo.”

Janus gave them a withering glare, personally greatly appreciating a good snooze himself, “I guess impulse control really isn’t your forte?”

They were overly chipper, “NOPE.”

For some reason, Janus couldn’t stay mad at this point. There was just something strangely endearing about them.

-

The two of them wound up hanging out together more.

Up until that point, Janus just migrated from friend group to friend group, making himself kind of a chameleon to any ne’er-do-wells who might’ve wanted to get a rise out of him. He was good at not taking shit from people and he was usually left alone for it.

Sanchez eventually told Janus that he wanted to be called Remus. That he was actually a guy… mostly. Sort of. Good enough, as far as Janus was concerned.

Janus returned the favor of trust, telling him his actual name. Still choosing not to explain anything, but glad that Remus didn’t make any potshots about how it sounded. Remus was fast warming up to him.

Mutually, they surprised each other about their own predilections for anarchy, and they really hit things off in that department. Janus just had two stipulations: not being the collateral damage again… and maybe Remus should show a little more concern for his own well-being and safety.

(To this day, Janus wasn’t particular successful about the latter part.)

-

One of the next most notable/notorious stunts perpetrated by Remus, neared the end of his freshman year.

A voice blared into the intercom system, ran through some distortion filters to make it less obvious to most people. Several octaves lower and static-y, “Goood morning, bitches, bastards, and everyone else! Thank you for listening to KRAX radio! I’m your host for today, The Duke of Butts himself. Ready for some garbage?! No?! Well, too bad!”

Janus, was split between cracking up and pretending to be just as alarmed as everyone else.

An obnoxious record scratch was heard through the building before an unholy remix of the likes of “Never Gonna Give You Up”, “All-Star”, and “Gangnam Style” started playing. It was the most beautiful and awful thing Janus had ever heard, it brought a tear to his eyes.

His fellow students eventually broke down laughing – in fact several neighboring classrooms worth were cheering and booing.

The teacher was far less amused, angrily dialing for the school administrators probably to report his disdain. It was in vain, since he was drowned out by the classroom and the broadcast.

Silence on the intercom.

The students went “awww” about it.

The teacher tried again, getting though, “You heard that right!? Yeah. Okay. Make sure to catch whosoever responsible for whatever the hell tomfoolery that was!”

Things seemed to quieted down.

That is until the first lunch period, “Goood afternoon, it’s me again! Bet y’all missed me! Huh!? Anyways, time for another plate full of Shitcago.”

Janus snorted as the scratch sample lead into yet another audible travesty. “Sandstorm”, “Shooting Stars”… and “Peanut Butter Jelly Time”.

There was a lot of gasping in awe at the shear audacity, Janus felt a sense of pride. Remus outdid himself, this time.

By then everyone was wondering when this entertainer would show up again.

A few minutes before school was to be dismissed, there was one final broadcast, “Goood evening, fuckers! Have a parting gift from me, before y’all head off to the shitty places you call home!”

Janus winced at the concerning subtext.

Next, Remus outright said, “Record Scratch!?”, for the segue. And what played next… was just “Chemical Bomb” by the Aquabats. Not quite the same level of aural hell as the previous sets… but that did get the school staff REALLY squirrely.

-

Remus didn’t actually talk much about his home life.

Janus came to learn that he had a brother and that his parents just weren’t in the picture anymore. Beyond that?

Whenever Janus gently prodded that hornet’s nest, Remus deflected constantly. Janus desisted after awhile, growing to respect this quirky kid’s boundaries. But that didn’t stop Janus from speculating that something volatile was brewing, Remus getting more and more agitated.

That didn’t stop the two of them from occasionally orchestrating some more dramatic pranks on the school over the next year. Janus helping him with being more discretionary. Remus also did well to shore up Janus’s own vaguely threatening reputation to the school.

(The fact he was going into the care industry, notwithstanding and completely irrelevant.)

It was a small miracle Remus managed to never get caught for his bigger stunts. But he did get more and more disciplinary action against him as Remus cared less and less about this school.

-

Janus was on track and since graduated with surprisingly little incident. Swearing Remus would see him out with a bang, at this point. Janus went straight to a local college, him coming by a family inheritance was a real boon for him to focus on himself.

But, they still kept in touch. Halfway into Remus’s senior year, Remus started a worrisome text conversation with him.

“Hey, can I stay at your place tonight?”

“Sure? Something happen?”

“Uh. I may’ve fucked up. Badly.”

“Listening.”

“I’d rather talk about it in person.”

“Ok? Need ride?”

“I maaay already be halfway to your place. Also, I’m taking my brother over...”

“Pls don’t tell me you’re txting while you drive. Wait – brother?”

A pause, Janus almost imagined Remus sighing, “… I’ll explain later.”

-

Remus arrived at Janus’s doorstep looking like even more of a mess than usual.

There was a bright red hand print on Remus’s face, and clear evidence that he had been crying heavily. The makeup he usually wore washed down his cheeks. Which felt like a twist of a knife in Janus’s chest, this was the opposite of the unflappable goblin of a friend he grew accustomed to.

Remus only mentioned his brother in passing a few times. Part of the whole “I refuse to talk about my family” thing. But Janus was observant enough to note that there was a ghost of a smile whenever he talked about Roman, more than anyone else.

Janus had missed the chance to really get to see him thanks to their age difference and the fact Roman barely kept up with his age grade (compared to Remus). He wasn’t informed why.

Roman was certainly in worse shape, physically. Remus had him to his side, arm over the shoulder for support. Roman’s nose and mouth dribbled with blood, he had a black eye showing, and the arm that wasn’t around Remus hung limply. Roman was woozy, but noticed he was getting stared at, “You just… going to... let me bleed all over your porch or-?”

Asking why the hell these two weren’t in the hospital was a foregone conclusion, so Janus ushered them in.

-

When they all filed into Janus’s living room. One thing was becoming clear. Roman’s arm was wrenched out of socket and Janus bit his lips, “I’m pretty sure that needs a closed reduction. But, I’ve only really done one of those yet, in my training. That is, if nothing is actually broken.”

Remus’s eyes were blown wide, “Well?”

Janus inhaled sharply through his teeth, “It’s not like this is totally a proper a clinic… I can’t exactly give him much to make putting his arm back in socket… Bearable.”

Roman looked like he couldn’t focus on anything other than all the pain, and stayed quiet.

Janus knew he was being unusually pensive, but now’s not the time to unpack that, “Can I see that arm? Just. Just so I have a better idea of what to do about it?”

Roman simply grunted and nodded.

Janus sidled next to him and looked at the injury and gently prodded the area to get a better physical sense of what was wrong here. He didn’t exactly have imaging to go off of, nor a licensed care team, or really anything. This was… so messed up.

Roman winced a little as Janus touched some bruises and aggravated nerves, but let him continue to attend it. Janus, while looking at it still, gulped and asked them, “Um… care to tell me what the hell happened?”

Roman just looked down, unable to talk. Remus started stammering, “T-tío Esteban. Found out about everything and lost his patience with-”

Janus unfortunately couldn’t fully unpack what Remus meant there, he had a few ideas, but still grimaced. That said, Janus’s memory from training was getting jogged, looking at his brother. “Roman, was it? Let’s check to see how much your arm is working now? Get a better sense of the damage here…”

Janus ran through the actions to test how good his nerves and blood supply were, thankfully Roman was remaining conscious and showing some hopeful signs. Janus then left and did as he said, “I’m going to grab a sling, before we do anything else…”

When he came back, “Care to lie on your belly with your left arm hanging off the couch? I’m – I’m only going to try this once. Because I don’t have shit like lidocaine to give you. If it’s not going to work, I don’t want to-”

The brothers sighed, as if they both knew and dreaded what Janus meant. Roman flopped into position on the couch, without another word. Except for some short gasps of pain, probably brushing bruises Janus couldn’t see and aggravating the offending shoulder.

Remus was uncharacteristically timid, glancing at Roman and then at Janus, “He-he stood up for me. The dumb ass. He-he didn’t need to out himself too and-”

Roman hushed Remus.

Janus nodded as he started manipulating Roman’s shoulder blade in a subtle and gentle fashion. This seemed to surprise Roman, “This… isn’t anything like the movies, huh?”

“Well, there are more… forceful techniques. But I’d rather not resort to that.”

Roman mumbled, “… sorry to burden you.”

Janus just sighed, not wanting to address what was buried in that statement either.

Soon enough, Roman sighed in relief once Janus put his shoulder back in place and put that sling on him. Janus did stress he should still get that looked at, totally uncharacteristically prepared to open his wallet for the costs, if need be.

-

For the longest time, it was a shame that Roman didn’t remember very much of what happened, that night. Maybe it was too much trauma for him to access, maybe Roman just wanted to distance himself from it, but Janus wasn’t going to be that kind of “doctor”. When they later rediscovered each other in the gym, years later, it was like they were simply acquaintances. Which hurt… a little.

But Remus certainly remembered. And reminded him how grateful he was, fairly often.

It equally hurt seeing Remus being so hesitant, “Can you… can you help us… you know? He doesn’t want us back home, after-”

“Not even a question, dear.”