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trekscribbles · 5 months ago

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The Bushwhack Job: Chapter Seventeen: The End!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen

(Disclaimer: This is a relatively rough draft and subject to change when I post to AO3. I'm just overly excited and want to share what I have.)

A soft clicking sound pulled him awake.

He couldn’t place it at first—his thoughts were fragmented, frayed like a threadbare shirt sent through too many washes. Whenever he tried to focus, a gust of pain would tumble through him and scatter whatever he’d managed to gather, and he’d have to start over. The clicking, though. It stayed consistent, a beacon through the fading mist.

Tick tick tick pop, click, tick tick tick.

“You missed the buried treasure,” said the voice in his head. Except it wasn’t in his head; it was at his side, next to the clicking sound. “There used to be a shed in June’s yard, I guess, and Elizabeth Classen wrote about a loose floorboard where she hid her letters from her family. When she moved away, she took her letters with, but left the money. Now it belongs to June.”

He took a breath, dragging himself away from the windswept pain toward the sound of her voice.

“Now that Lancaster isn’t around to bother her about it, it might actually do some good,” she went on. “Nate and Hardison are helping her authenticate the find. You know, with the paperwork and the taxes and whatever other boring things go with making official historical claims. It’s a shame. I would have found a better place for the money. They wouldn’t even let me smell it. Hardison was afraid of mold or something.”

“Parker,” he said.

She stopped talking.

The silence enveloped him, and panic clawed up his throat. “Parker?”

“I’m here.”

He opened his eyes, blinking in the faint light coming through the window. He was in his room at Sunny’s, lying with a quilt tucked around his chest and Parker sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him. She had her back against the wall and a lock in her hands, just like his dream. When had he dreamed it? It was after he woke up earlier, after he went back to look for her, back when she was—when she was... God, was she…?

“Are you real?” he whispered.

She tilted her head. “You mean like solipsism? Like, the only thing we can know exists for sure is ourselves, which means everyone else is only a representation of ourselves—myself? Er, yourself?”

“Parker,” Eliot gritted out. “Are you here?”

“Oh!” She dropped the lock into her lap and did what he couldn’t do, this time or the last.

She took his hand.

“I’m here,” she said, closing her fingers around his. “And you’re here. I don’t think solipsism is all that popular anymore.”

He lifted his free hand and laid it on his forehead, grinding the heel of his palm into his eyes. It was splinted and wrapped—he must have sprained his wrist in the second explosion—but it didn’t matter. She was alive. He hadn’t dreamed it. She was here, sitting next to him and being weird and he’d forgotten how much he loved that, how much he missed her, how badly he needed her.

“You remember me?” Parker asked.

Eliot spoke without moving his hand from his face. “I think so. I don’t—I don’t know, there’s still… How do you know what you don’t remember?”

“Hmm.” She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, pulling him farther from the pain to center his attention on her touch. “Do you remember the time we stole a diamond that was actually a potato, but it turned out there wasn’t a diamond after all?”

“…No?”

“What about the time Nate hypnotized Hardison and he played the violin at that concert hall?”

“Um… maybe...”

“Or the time you were a minor league baseball player and you made a commercial for the Japanese energy drink?”

“That never happened.”

Parker laughed, and the sound filled Eliot’s chest, chasing out the empty ache and the tight, lingering fear. She was here. Fatigue weighed on him, filling his head with a thick, fuzzy haze of pain and disorientation, and nausea swirled in his stomach and his leg hurt, but the Parker on his bed was real.

He felt better than he had in days.

He took a grounding breath, trying to compose himself enough to look at her, but a sound at the door broke his concentration.

“Parker?” Hardison said. “Do you have those photocopies from—” He stopped, and Eliot lifted his hand so he could see him standing uninjured in the doorway, a laptop in one hand, his pants dusted with dirt.

“Hardison,” he said.

His voice was still rough, and Hardison’s eyes watered at the sound of it. He dropped the laptop on the dresser and kneeled on the floor beside the bed, wrapping his arms around Eliot before he could fully sit up. He seemed to be making an effort to be gentle, but Eliot pulled him closer, throwing his right arm around Hardison’s shoulder and pressing his fist to the back of his neck. His left hand was still in Parker’s, and he clung to it, pressing all the fear and remorse and relief he couldn’t voice into the contact.

“Hey, man,” Hardison asked unevenly. “You okay?”

Eliot nodded into his shoulder, and Parker pressed his hand, and the last of the fear coating his thoughts splintered apart. There were details he knew needed his attention—Lancaster and June and the other properties he and J.B. had found—but at the moment, he was content to let them exist in the background, a problem for his future self. For now, he wanted nothing else but to know that his people were safe, and he was safe, and that the void in his existence wasn’t going to stay empty forever.

Finally, Hardison eased back, and a wave of dizziness swept over him at the lack of support. When he blinked the spots out of his vision, Hardison’s hand was on his upper arm, and Parker had let him go so he could hold himself up.

“J.B. said you’d probably feel weak when you woke up,” Hardison said. “Hang on, I’ll get you some water. I’ll be right back.”

Parker helped him sit up as Hardison hurried from the room, stuffing a pillow behind his back to keep him upright. “Do you want to see your brain scans?” Parker said excitedly. “I kept a copy.”

“Uh… maybe later.” He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose to control the nausea brought on by the movement. He hated concussions. “The others are okay?”

His voice came out gruffer than he meant it to, but Parker didn’t seem to mind. She leaned back against the wall and stretched her legs over his lap, settling over him like a blanket. “Everyone’s fine. Well, except for Lancaster—he was inside the building when it exploded. Janish, too. But the rescue teams did get the guards you knocked out in the basement. I guess the staircase held up, and they were able to pull them out. They’ll all be fine.”

At least that was something. “The bombs were on a timer,” he said. “Lancaster stalled to keep me inside.”

“But you made it out,” Parker said. “You kept your promise.”

She said it like it was a given, like he was someone who could be taken at his word, and her certainty sent a spark of shame spiraling through him. He still had no idea who he had been before. Parker was a thief, Hardison was a hacker, Sophie was a grifter—criminals, all of them, but he knew in his heart that they were good. Even more so after they gathered together under the leadership of a man they respected, a man who had made them a family.

But Eliot? He wasn’t like them. He wasn’t innately good like they were.

What hope was there that he could change?

Parker was still watching him, her head tilted, and he forced a smile to his face. “Yeah,” he rasped. “I promised.”

Parker opened her mouth, but footsteps in the hall announced Hardison’s return, and she let the conversation end.

Nate, Sophie, and J.B. followed Hardison into the room, and Eliot sat up straighter under their worried looks, trying to look as healthy as possible. Sophie moved to the head of the bed and took the chair from the desk by the window.

“Parker,” she said, frowning. “He has a bullet wound in his leg. Should you really be lying on him?”

“I know where it is,” Parker said, lifting her foot to prove that her weight was distributed safely across his upper thighs.

Sophie shook her head. “Still, you probably shouldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Eliot said, too quickly, afraid that Parker would pull away if Sophie kept talking. Her absence would hurt far more than the little bit of pressure she was putting on his injury.

Sophie studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed, and then handed over a bottle of water. “All right, but make sure to tell her if it gets to be too much. Here, drink some of this.”

“How are you feeling?” J.B. asked from across the room. He was standing just inside the doorway like he didn’t want to intrude, but at Eliot’s nod, he took another step toward the bed. “I can’t believe you don’t have serious brain damage, but your scans were encouraging. Your memory should return once you’ve had some real rest. Which means you’ll actually have to rest, and not go running off into any destroyed buildings or starting fist fights, and I’d highly encourage you to avoid getting blown up for a day or two. Got it?”

Eliot gave a weak laugh. “Deal.”

“I got the deeds,” he said. “The ones you got from Lancaster’s office. Sophie was kind enough to help me retrieve them before the building went down.”

Sophie looked up at him. “Is that what was in the envelope?”

“Yep. I’ve been posing as a messenger to the office for the last few weeks, trying to pick up information on Lancaster, so we thought it would be a good cover to pick up the deeds once Eliot found them. We just had to get him into Lancaster’s office.”

“Wasn’t hard,” Eliot muttered. “He relied too heavily on his security. The deeds were in a filing cabinet next to his desk.”

Hardison sat on the end of his bed, crossing his legs and setting his computer in his lap. “Well, I was able to take the deeds you guys found and the files Sophie downloaded from Lancaster’s hard drives, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to return the properties to their original owners.” He flashed a grin at Eliot. “You continued our job on Lancaster without even knowing it.”

His gaze drifted to Nate. When he and J.B. had decided to go up against Lancaster, they hadn’t meant to get the deeds. They were just going to try to keep him away from Sunny. Eliot was the one who had changed the plan, once he realized how many other people Lancaster had hurt. It had been an unconscious decision—a realization followed by an instantaneous adjustment—and he wondered now how much of that had come from Nate’s influence. Without meaning to, without remembering the details… had he done what he’d thought Nate would do?

“Sunny’s fixing something to eat,” J.B. said, his eyes on Eliot. “I’ll be back to check your vitals in a little bit. Drink that water, all right?”

He backed out of the room, and Eliot obediently lifted his bottle to his lips. It gave him a chance to let his hair fall over his face, hiding his expression while his emotions churned in murky circles.

Sophie laid her hand on his arm, anchoring him as his thoughts spiraled. “I’ve been thinking,” she said gently. “Until your memory comes back completely, you’re a bit of a blank canvas. You have a chance to be whoever you want.”

He shot her an uncomfortable glance. That was too lucky a guess to be coincidence, and one look at the careful way she met his gaze was enough to convince him that yes, she was posing this question intentionally, and he wanted to change the subject and turn their attention away from his gaping insecurities, but she had her lips parted already, and the way she watched him said that she had anticipated that, too, and that she had another topic ready.

Whatever I don’t know, we’ll make up, she’d told him. Not a threat, but an offer.

Who you were doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be?

He cleared his throat. “Anyone?”

“Anyone,” she said, squeezing his arm. “It’s the role of a lifetime.”

Hardison nudged Eliot’s foot. “How about a chef? You’re a wizard in the kitchen, man. You could open up a restaurant in Paris or something and serve all them fancy little plates with like two bites’ worth of food on ‘em. You know the ones.”

Eliot considered that. He had no specific memories of cooking, but the thought of sitting at a table filled with his team and his food gave him a warm, contented feeling.

But Sophie was shaking her head. “No, no, that’s too obvious. I think—hmm, let’s see—I think you’d be a dancer.”

“A what?” Hardison laughed.

“It’s perfect!” Sophie said when Eliot wrinkled his nose. “You’ve got the athleticism for it, you know how to lead and how to follow in a fight—it’s not that different from dancing. I bet you’d be so good in an improv competition.”

“I think he’d be a pirate,” Parker said.

They looked at her, and she shrugged and turned her attention back to her lock. “Then you could have a parrot.”

“You can have a parrot without being a pirate,” Hardison said.

“I stole a parrot once,” Sophie said. “Horrid little thing. It started yelling just as I was making my getaway.”

Nate leaned his hip against the dresser and raised his eyebrows at Eliot. “What about a cowboy?”

Eliot groaned, but Sophie tapped his arm excitedly. “No, no, that could work—you can ride a horse, and you can pull off the hat. We could get you a little ranch in Texas, and you can sit out on the porch in a rocking chair sipping iced tea—oh, I like that one.”

“I’m picturing more like a Gene Autry kinda thing,” Nate said, sounding far too serious for comfort. “A rodeo performer and a musician. Between the stunts and the singing, I think you’d keep busy.”

“What do you think, Eliot?” Hardison asked.

Eliot took another sip of water, sifting through the jumble of feelings and fragments of memory, aware of his team’s patient silence. He’d spent the last few days so worried about his past that he hadn’t given a thought to his future. The only skills he knew he had were fighting, and he’d assumed that made him a violent man. But Sophie had looked at that knowledge and said he could be graceful instead of dangerous. Hardison believed he could create something to share with others. Parker… well, Parker had called him a thief, but that was probably a compliment for her.

And Nate. Back in Lancaster’s office, Nate had said he was a good man. It was what made Eliot decide to go with him, even though he still hadn’t settled on the truth, even though every clue he had suggested the opposite. He’d wanted to believe Nate’s words. He’d wanted to live up to them.

Maybe he wasn’t a good man yet. But maybe it was enough that he wanted to be.

“Eliot?” Sophie said quietly.

Eliot looked at her, then at Parker and Hardison tucked against him on the bed, and finally at Nate. “I want to help people,” he said at last. “With you. That’s what we do?”

Nate smiled. “That’s what we do.”

Sophie squeezed his arm again and sat back in her chair. “You should rest,” she said, smiling reassuringly as she gave him one final pat and stood. She touched Nate’s shoulder as she went past, and he pushed away from the dresser to follow.

“Make sure he stays in bed,” he said, fixing Hardison and Parker with firm looks. Then he nodded to Eliot and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “It’s good to have you back,” he said.

Eliot nodded back. It was good. He was good.

Or if he wasn’t yet, he would be.

Eliot woke to darkness. Not complete darkness—a sliver of light winked over his face, and he turned his head to avoid it.

“I can’t see how that’s comfortable,” said a voice in the hall.

Eliot opened his eyes. He was still in bed, lying on his back with a warm weight over him. Light from the hallway cast a long golden stripe over his right side, illuminating a pair of feet propped up on the mattress next to his hip. He followed the feet to their ankles and knees—upon which his sprained wrist rested, keeping it elevated above his heart—and up crossed legs until he recognized the still form of Hardison on the chair beside him. His arms were folded over his chest and his eyes were closed, his head tipped back on the backrest, breathing peacefully.

“It’s hard to explain,” said a new voice. Eliot blinked, trying to focus his blurry vision on the figure in the doorway. Nate. He spoke in a whisper, and Eliot tilted his head reflexively toward his words. “Eliot doesn’t normally show his vulnerabilities. It won’t sit easy with him, being out of commission like this. He won’t rest well if he doesn’t know where the team is.”

“I see,” said the first voice—it took Eliot’s muddled thoughts a moment to match Sunny’s name to it. “I suppose it’s reassuring to them, too, after all you’ve been through.”

Them. Eliot looked down at his chest, at the golden hair tucked against his neck, the head pillowed on his shoulder, the arm sprawled across his ribs. Parker. She’d draped one leg over his, covering as much of his body as she could without actually lying on him, as though trying to physically hold him down.

“He’s a light sleeper,” Nate went on softly. “At least now when he wakes up, he’ll know he’s safe. He won’t be compelled to search for us.”

“J.B. told you about that, huh?”

Nate was silent for a long moment. “This won’t be easy on him,” he said again. “When he starts to remember… They’re not all good memories. And from what J.B. said, it probably won’t all come back at once. He may remember the worst first.”

“How bad was the worst?” Sunny asked.

“Bad.”

A cold thread of worry wound around Eliot’s throat. He didn’t want to lose the progress he’d made, didn’t want to go back to fearing his past. He shifted toward the door without meaning to, lifting his head and shoulders, as if he could get anywhere with Parker and Hardison penning him in.

As if proving a point, Parker sighed in her sleep and burrowed deeper into his side.

“He’ll need us,” Nate said. “And he’s not used to needing anyone. And Parker and Hardison—” He paused, his voice low and fond. “They want to make sure he knows he’s not alone.”

Eliot relaxed into the mattress. Was that what they were doing? Placing themselves in such a way that he couldn’t possibly miss them? Making sure he felt their presence even when he wasn’t awake?

Parker’s fingers twitched on his chest, and Eliot looked down to find them resting on his necklace charm. She must have put it on him while he slept—which spoke to both her skill and his exhaustion—and the sight of it now filled him with determination.

He’d made a promise, and she’d returned it. However difficult the coming weeks might be, he would come through it—because he could do hard things, and he wouldn’t be doing them alone.

“That’s a blessing,” Sunny said quietly. “That you all understand him so well. That you found each other.”

Nate chuckled. “I could say the same for you.”

“Me? I just gave him a bed.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Nate said. “And I’ll never forget it. If there’s ever anything you need, any time… it’s yours.”

“All I need is a promise that you’ll come visit once in a while,” she said, laughing.

“J.B. thinks he’ll be well enough to head home in a few days,” Nate said. He eased the door closed, but his voice still filtered through to Eliot’s straining ears. “But we’ll make sure to come by again.”

“See that you do.”

Eliot closed his eyes, lying back on the soft pillow with one hand resting on Parker’s side and his other across Hardison’s knees. Nate and Sophie were safe, and Sunny was safe, and J.B. and Miguel would take care of anything he couldn’t until he was on his feet again. For once, he wasn’t worried about how long it would be before he was strong enough to return home.

As far as he was concerned, he was already there.

#leverage #fanfiction #leverage fanfic #the bushwhack job #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #nathan ford #sophie devereaux #this ending fought me. I wrote like 3 different versions split between 2 different chapters #but I think this one makes the most sense #I really tried to keep the ending close to The Man Called Noon's #which ends with the mc waking up in bed after being shot and thinking about home #but louis l'amour--God rest his soul--sucked at endings #they're all kind of just. okay the bad guy is dead. the end.#but I think this wraps up the themes in what is hopefully a satisfying way.#for everyone who's followed along with each update and reblogged and commented and liked and gone over to ao3 to read #thank you so much. you kept this story going when I would have given up on it #I finished it for you. I hope you like it <3

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olasketches · 9 months ago

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jjk ends in 5 chapters... wow.. :"))

#for the past week I've been in a constant state of fear and anxiety over this manga and the last week's chapter really did for me...#but now that I know that the manga ends in 5 chapters... I can finally calm down #Im not even feeling disappointed (at least rn) which I thought would be the case after hearing the news...#but oddly enough I only smiled to myself and felt a sense of relief #seeing how the story is quickly wrapping up and not knowing how long we have left till the end was more anxiety inducing than I thought #but now that I know makes me feel a bit more at ease weirdly??#endings suck in general and as a rule I don't expect stories to have a satisfying ending and that's how I've always felt about jjk #gege actually surprise me in more ways than I thought and his story gave me a lot more than a I could have a asked for #whatever he planned for the ending I hope it'll leave him satisfy and happy #I am beyond grateful to gege for giving us this special story #jujutsu kaisen will always have an important place in my heart #thank you gege akutami <3 #jjk

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ravenclair · 8 days ago

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In the Shadow of You | Hogwarts Legacy

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Chapter 18: Amortentia

(Word count: 2,216)

You were in the hidden cavern beneath the castle, the Repository destroyed.

Tendrils of dark magic swirled around you in a storm. Ranrok was defeated. Professor Fig was gone. You were alone.

You had tried controlling the dark magic, tried to reseal it in a new repository, but you weren't strong enough. Suddenly, the magic crept closer, the storm drawing tighter around your body, as if drawn to you. It was going to swallow you whole.

It was going to destroy you.

You were helpless as the magic overtook you, swarming closer until you were breathing it in. Then, a surge of power ran through you, igniting your own diminished magic. It awakened every one of your senses, made you feel unbelievably powerful.

This was what Isidora must've felt. What Ranrok must've felt. The dark magic seemed to absorb into your skin, into your very being.

And when you finally reopened your eyes, they flashed red.

You awoke with a start, gasping for breath.

A nightmare...

You hadn't had one in days. You looked down to find your locket's glow flickering faintly between red and blue. Interesting. It had only done that one other time, at the beginning of term. During your very first attack.

While you were trying to piece together the significance, you heard the bunk above you shift. Panicked, you quickly shoved the locket under your pillow.

"Are you alright?" Samantha whispered in the darkness. "It sounded like you were in pain."

"Just a bad dream, you can go back to bed. I'm sorry for waking you."

"...I've heard you before, you know?" Samantha replied reluctantly. "I've been feeling terribly guilty for not saying so sooner–I didn't think it was something you'd want to discuss. But if you did want to talk about it..."

You smiled softly. "Thank you, Samantha."

She was quiet before she whispered again. "Anytime I'm awoken from a nightmare, I like to make a mental list of my most favorite things. It usually helps calm me down enough to fall back asleep."

You heard the shuffling of bedsheets and, a few minutes later, the steady breathing of Samantha drifting back into her own dreams. You contemplated her advice and decided to try it for yourself. You closed your eyes and began to think up your own list.

A warm butterbeer on a cold day...the smell of new parchment...the feeling of the wind on your face when you flew on a broomstick...late night study sessions in the Undercroft with your friends...the sound of Sebastian's laugh...

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

⋆｡°✩

The weeks began to pass in a blur.

The autumn chill turned into a biting winter cold, and the leaves fell away to reveal bare branches. Snow began to fall and cover the grounds, making it nearly impossible to walk anywhere without leaving a trail of wet footprints in your wake.

November had reached its end, and you'd had not one encounter—mental or physical—with Marvolo Gaunt since the night of the Hallows' Eve Ball a month ago. Ominis had been trying to keep tabs on him through whispers in his family, but hadn't heard anything of value. Although you tried to ignore the paranoia, you'd been on edge.

You couldn't help but wonder what was taking him so long to make his next move.

On a particularly restless night, you'd considered sneaking all the way down into the Repository alone, just to confirm its safety. But the thought of him somehow following you, hidden out of sight, had you dismissing the thought completely. There were no signs the Repository had been tampered with, so you had to trust that he'd yet to discover its location.

You hoped he never would.

The stress had seeped its way into your recurring nightmares, neither the tonics from Nurse Blainey nor the protection of your locket keeping them at bay any longer. You'd learned to deal with them, though, with the help of Samantha's listing method.

Any free time you had was spent locked away in the Room of Requirement to practice your ancient magic. You still lacked the precise control you once had over it, but you'd been managing more powerful spurts of it here and there. You were determined to regain your full power, especially with the kind of threat Marvolo posed.

Definitely not to avoid a certain Slytherin.

After your passionate dance together at the ball and his romantic kiss on your hand later that night, you were unsure of where exactly your relationship stood. What it all had meant to him.

Especially since the two of you had somehow wordlessly agreed to pretend it never happened.

It frustrated you to no end, so you'd subconsciously been evading any opportunity to be alone with him these last few weeks. Instead, you've been distracting yourself with schoolwork, tutoring Anne, Legilimency lessons with Professor Sharp, and the unavoidable impending threat of your mysterious stalker-turned-close friend's-evil older brother.

Yes, you've had quite enough on your plate to keep you occupied.

As you donned your robes in preparation for Potions that morning, you noticed Samantha was giddy. More so than usual. Her newly established relationship with Andrew Larson had been the sole source of her enthusiasm lately—the two were practically inseparable—but this was different.

"Oh, come now, I know you're doing that on purpose," you said, exasperated at the obvious pep in her step on your walk to class. Merlin, she was walking too fast.

"Do you not realize what today's lesson is?" Samantha grinned at you, slowing her stride. You didn't. Apparently, you'd been distracting yourself a little too well lately. At your vacant expression, she huffed impatiently before continuing. "We're brewing Amortentia today. The Love Potion!"

Your mouth fell open, dumbfounded.

How could you have forgotten? You had been dreading the repercussions of Sharp teaching this potion since the beginning of term. You recalled the giggles from those Hufflepuff girls on the first day of class and shivered.

"Well, try not to look so excited," Samantha said sarcastically. "Aren't you the least bit curious as to what everyone will smell?"

Your stomach knotted at the thought. Amortentia's aroma is different for each person, depending on what they're most attracted to. Some scents, you supposed, might be a bit easier to discern what—or rather, whom—was being smelled.

You were quite certain who you'd smell.

You tried to disregard the thought as you sat at your potions station while Professor Sharp gave a quick lecture on what ingredients to use and how delicately to stir the mixture. You couldn't help but peek at Sebastian, who was whispering something to Ominis.

"...and once you've added the final ingredient, the potion will take on a mother-of-pearl sheen." Professor Sharp finished writing his list of ingredients on the chalkboard, pearl dust coming last. "Now, get to work. I'll be collecting everyone's potions for evaluation at the end of class."

Lenora Everleigh and her fellow Hufflepuff sighed disappointedly.

"Am I the only one who's a bit nervous about this?" Garreth said, chuckling. "I'm not sure how safe I feel with those two knowing how to brew a Love Potion. I've never seen them so excited for a class."

You and Natty laughed as he gestured over his shoulder at the Hufflepuffs, who had both frantically scribbled down all the steps and ingredients that had been left out of the textbook.

"Beware spontaneous gift-giving, particularly of the food variety," you joked back.

The four of you began your brews, following Professor Sharp's direction as closely as possible. Love Potion or not, you refused to accept any score below Exceeds Expectations. As you added the last bit of pearl dust and stirred carefully, your potion took on a lovely pink hue that glittered with iridescence. The smell hit you shortly after, and you couldn't help but take in slow, deep breaths. You had to shake your head to regain focus.

Merlin, this stuff is dangerous...

"An excellent coloring," Professor Sharp said, appearing next to your cauldron. He took a sample of your potion in a clear vial to hold up for the rest of the class. "This is exactly how each of your potions should appear. If brewed correctly, a pleasing aroma should begin to waft from the brew—unique to each individual based on what attracts them."

Surprised by his outward approval, you almost missed it when he asked you, "Would you mind giving us an example?"

Your head turned sharply to where he stood to the right of you, waiting expectantly for your answer. Your eyes cut to Samantha sitting behind him, lips tucked tightly to suppress her smile.

You cleared your throat and willed your voice to remain steady. "Of course, Professor. For me, it smells of...fresh grass and...the embers of a fire...and pine needles."

Vague enough to anyone else, you hoped. You easily placed each smell to something that reminded you of Sebastian: grass from the quidditch pitch, the smokey embers of his favorite fire charms, and that piney scent that always seemed to cling to him. You looked up from the potion to see your classmates watching you intently. If you so much as glanced at Sebastian now, it would be too obvious.

Professor Sharp nodded. "Now, someone else. If the potion was brewed correctly, the scent should differ to appeal to their preferences."

Dead silence. Samantha began raising her hand to save you from further embarrassment when another volunteered.

"I'll try it, Professor."

You turned to find Sebastian calmly approaching your station. You shuffled slightly to the right to make room as he stepped up your cauldron, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. Hesitated for a moment. There was a sudden uncomfortable feeling in your gut at the thought of what might attract him.

But then he opened his eyes, looked directly into your own, and said, "Butterscotch, new parchment...and birthday cake."

Oh.

Your eyes widened in realization as they stared back into his. His expression was unwavering, full of honesty and...something else. There was an intensity in his gaze, as if he hoped you could read everything he was trying to say, everything he was conveying by sharing this moment with you.

Professor Sharp cleared his throat and you both quickly turned away from each other.

"Thank you, Mr. Sallow. You may return to your seat," Professor Sharp said, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. He then continued with his lecture, your classmates returning their attention to their own potions. You, however, thought only of Sebastian's words over and over and over.

Butterscotch. This summer, while working at the Three Broomsticks, you never could manage to get the sickly sweet smell of butterbeer out of your hair.

New parchment. You'd admitted it was a favorite scent of yours while studying in the Undercroft together. He'd teased you relentlessly for it.

Birthday cake. A shared dessert on the Hogsmeade bridge mere months ago.

You.

He had smelled you.

⋆｡°✩

Any preconceived notions you had about Sebastian's true feelings had been thrown completely out the window after Potions.

While it wasn't exactly a confession, it was as close to one as you could get. He had to have known you would recognize those scents. He wanted you to know. If he had picked up on your own Amortentia aromas alluding to him, you had no idea.

So, what now?

You supposed that if this was a game of Wizard's Chess, it would be your move.

Before you could leave for Charms, Samantha pulled you aside to gush about how utterly romantic the whole exchange was. You tried to brush her off, but she wasn't budging on this. "It was quite clear to me what those scents reminded him of, anyone could tell from the way he looked at you! You have to say something to him!"

In Charms, you couldn't manage to catch his eye.

"Did something happen between you two?" Poppy whispered to you as Professor Ronen continued his lecture. She'd noticed you looking across the room one-too-many times and was now giving you a skeptical look. You shifted in your seat under the weight of it.

"We...brewed Amortentia today in Potions," you finally admitted.

Poppy's eyes lit up, her face splitting into a grin. "Oh...I see."

"I don't know what to do, Poppy," you sighed, keeping your voice low.

"You're thinking about it too much," she replied gently. "The two of you are already very close friends—what is there to be afraid of?"

Your brows drew together as you pondered her question.

In your mind, being in a relationship with you would only bring Sebastian more trouble. He had Anne and Ominis back in his life, and he'd managed to turn last year's unfortunate end into a lesson for himself. He had upheld his promise to stay away from dark magic, but, here you were, pulling him right back into it.

Most of all, though, you were afraid of losing him. Afraid of losing anyone again. Your chest still ached unbearably at the thought of Professor Fig, and you weren't sure you could handle the death of another dear to you.

But perhaps Poppy was right. You've been pining after him for months now, and he wasn't exactly hiding his feelings for you. Not anymore. You'd known for a while that it was only a matter of time before that delicate line was left behind, forgotten.

After this morning, it seemed to be shattered into a million pieces.

#in the shadow of you #the long awaited amortentia chapter is finally here!#I hope you enjoyed it hehe #I've had this one planned out for a while now #so it was very satisfying to finally write it :D #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hl fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x fmc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you

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thelonelyshore-if · 6 months ago

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Poll time for y'all, though this one isn't directly story related. Writing the waking up drabbles and the 2k special was a lot of fun, and helped snap me out of my writer's block. And they also got me thinking.

I know a lot of authors have Patreon or Kofi for their projects, and I was wondering if that's something people would be interested in for TLS? As in, paid monthly extra content/early access to game updates?

Disclaimer that this is not in any way an announcement or even a fully formed idea. I don't know for sure if it's something I'd want to do, especially if there isn't actually an audience for it.

More than anything, I'm just curious to see what people think!

#author posting #polls #for real though this is mostly curiosity on my part #i definitely wouldn't be doing anything until the new year/after chapter 3 is out #some things i also think id release to the public eventually #such as playable povs #anyway hope y'all are doing well!!#if you vote thank you for helping satisfy my curiosity lol

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smilesrobotlover · 2 months ago

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Always an excited day when you release another chapter of Love by Twilight. It’s one of my favorite’s. Also not Midna calling rusl, her father in-law 🤭. We love to see it. Keep up the fantastic work.

Thank you so much!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 that means so much to hear! ��😭😭 I hope the ending is good, I’m getting near the end!!

And yeaaaaah that was kind of a slip up but at this point he might as well be, right? But she might be considering something… maybe… 🤔🤔🤔

#thank you for the ask that means a lot to me 😊😊😊😊#asks #I’m so excited hehehe #about 3 chapters left!!!#these chapters might be very long #but I really do hope the ending is satisfying #it’s kinda scary 😅#endings are super important!#and I’ve thought about it since I started writing it but still #I want to do its justice

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ttomuras · 10 months ago

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the last five chapters were extremely rushed and the ending feels generic and boring to me. like i literally joked about how there is going to be a timeskip, deku is gonna be a teacher and they’ll have a pull-out-your-ass solution about how deku can still be a hero. joked in a “this is too goofy” way just like ppl joked about “this is our hero academia”. this feels v?? goofy?? but in a not fun way for me

#yes i had high hopes for this chapter #but honestly? this is just not good writing for me #he could have done it in a different way that i might have still not been satisfied with but if it was not rushed #made sense narrative wise #didn’t kinda…abandon deku’s character development #i could have been okay with it #facts is deku returned to the quirkless kid he was who does not take initiative to follow his dream and who just lets stuff happen to him #like he is lonely and upset about not being a hero but he just sits down and let’s it happen because why would he take matter into his own #hands #just seems to me like maybe he didn’t care about being a hero that much #which would be fine!!! like maybe he changed his mind or the war changed him #(not that we saw any of that cuz there was a timeskip and we didnmt partake in deku’s thoughts for the last idk how many hundred chapters)#but then if that was the case why is he so happy about the support item #idk it’s v generic shonen #why did i even expect more #my fault honestly #bnha leaks #bnha spoilers #bnha 430

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sleeping-diary-the-fic · 4 months ago

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Sleeping diary (a pink aftermare story)

Chapter 9: What in carnation???

First Previous

Orchid stood there, a few feet away from the grass circle, staring, glaring in a seemingly random direction, full of nothing but darkness.

His candy floss colored kitten slippers thumped against the vaguely solid ground.

He swore he heard something that way.

He kept staring for a while, his stillness only broken by this incessant stumping.

One could never be too cautious around here.

A noise in the save screen, that didn’t come from him or the faint but constant buzzing of the checkpoint, was very suspicious.

The monster wasn’t sure if he preferred it to be from Gaster deciding to visit the periphery or something else entirely.

His hands, tucked in his coat’s pockets, picked at the inner fabric in a nervous fidget.

Maybe he imagined that.

Maybe that sound solely came from his fragile mind, sleething its way out by a fissure that would never close fully.

Orchid took his hand out to readjust his scarf and sighed.

Getting poetic again, lonely guy?

Finally deeming an investigation was not worth trudging away from his only light, he simply sat and picked up his favorite activity.

That book.

Berlingot went to sleep already so he only read back old exchanges and counted the pages they completed so far.

A lot.

Between idle chit-chats and paper games, they had decorated many new pages of small moments of life.

Orchid smiled at that.

Berlingot had a lot of free time or was weirdly invested with talking with him.

He didn’t mind however and wouldn’t probe. It’d felt like breaching that invisible barrier they each put up tightly around some aspects of their identity.

It wasn’t like he wanted to talk about his life or situation, why would he demand that of Berlingot?

A flutter moved right in his mostly blind side. The right side of his face was damaged enough that he barely perceived the world from that eye.

He froze.

This time he was sure of it.

He did not imagine that sound.

Twirling around fast, two summoned blasters fired beams of raging fire towards the source of the noise.

“WH-”

Someone else was there.

Someone who barely dodged his blasts and was now floating, eyes wide, not so far from him.

It was a skeleton, with a similar build, clothed in a slightly pinkish white robe thing tied by a thin cord.

Its eye sockets were dark and empty, partly obscured by his hood. The dark pink inside of the fabric contrasted with the pearl white of his bones.

Maybe it was really a ghost this time, he couldn’t see any feet under those clothes.

The apparition whistled before addressing him.

“Well, that wasn’t far… You’re a bit twitchy there, buddy?”

They talked.

“Who and what are you?”

“Maybe we could,” slender fingers gently point to his still summoned blasters, “put away the big guns before we try the whole conversation thing, bucko?”

“Answer my question and I might bring the puppies home, stranger.”

“Ok, ok,” they put their hands open in from of them, “sorry for startling you, I’ll answer your questions, cowboy~”

The floating guy lied down up there and pointed finger guns at him. Confused by the unexpected endeavor, Orchid unsummoned his blasters.

He swore, now was not the time to seem vulnerable.

“Soooo, I’ll admit I’ve been called a fair share of names!”

Their hands fished out squared papers from two colorful bags, hanging from his belt.

“First,” the stranger started folding the paper with a surprising velocity, “my brother calls me Sans. I’m sure you know this name, other me.”

Winking, he put down the origami.

A candy-shaped one.

“How-”

“What, can’t believe there are other worlds than your small one, boo?”

The doppelganger folded a few similar paper constructs and put them in neat lines.

“I would have thought that with your… history?”, he lowered his voice, “not that I know much about it beside you got a copy in there and you out annnd the fact the bloodiest resets finally stopped… So don’t worry about that, candy-cheek!”

Orchid startled and almost rubbed his cheek where he knew the candy-mark shape rested.

10 small paper boxes had been produced again.

“Can you stop with the weird nicknaming and just come down and explain what’s up besides you?”

The other did a small looping and skillfully hid away in his sleeves his creations.

“No can do, pal. I’ll come down at the end of our conversation annnnd you didn’t give me a name for me to use? I wouldn’t assume you still go by “Sans”, do you? Oh and,” the floating guy produced a more complex paper construct made of all the origamis he folded earlier, “you can call me Kusudama! It’s better than my work name and I choose it myself!”

The chatterbox seemed like he could be going for hours but Orchid did not relax yet. There was something in those fast-paced words, in this wide smile and empty sockets that just enerved him. How did “Kusudama” enter the save screen and why?

“I do have another name but I ain't sure I trust you so what if you get down there and we discuss how you breached this place and what you are seeking exactly here?”

No use in beating around the bushes, he might as well get to the point.

“Well it all does have a thing to do with my job but frankly I feel like procrastinating some more and believe me Sans-”

“Orchid.”

The correction fuzed before he could stop it, he couldn’t bear this name in this foreign mouth anymore.

“-Orchid, be-leaf me when I say it is in your best interest, flower guy.”

He tssked at the joke, who was he to steal a pun he could have done.

“And what is your job, world’s worst spooky decoration?”

Kusudama giggled and twirled, putting his hands under his shin, the fabric spinning around him in an aquatic dance.

“I wish,” he sighed.

Something in the atmosphere soured. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Kusudama lowered himself a bit, standing almost to reach now.

“I said I had many names and a few are directly tied to my job, whomst I do not enjoy that much on a good day. But I guess someone has to do it.”

Orchid took a step bad, a hand raising in case he needed to summon something fast.

The other raised a hand as well, holding the colorful origami amalgamation. He threw it high.

His bags shook and a myriad of papers flew out, obscuring his vision suddenly.

Orchid tensed but waited.

A chuckle resonated in the empty place.

A glint of a blade grazed his shoulder and tore through his vest before he could react.

“Uhuh, not that fast.”

The view cleared and Kusudama reappeared, a pair of mismatched paper wings decorated his back. A tall scythe rested in his hands, the misshapen wood let place to the deadly blade where the weird origami thing sat.

“Maybe I played long enough. Hello, I’m a reaper, some call me death and I’m here for you, bye!”

Before the words even registered, the attacker lunged in his direction and it was only by reflex Orchid managed to summon his weapons to fight back.

The other was fast and bones, papers and blasts flew everywhere in a chaotic ordeal.

The monster dodged, more and more in extremis, each attack thrown his way, the blade swiping at him every time the death-bringer managed to close the distance.

A wave of bones made the aggressor tumble farther, tearing through the fragile wing. He didn’t have time to cheer as the hole closed itself using new furniture from the annoying bags and his enemy threw himself back into action.

This couldn’t continue for long.

He would tire.

He would give up.

Could he even die here, when he only had a half-life left, when this place kept him alive when he should have been dust for a long time already?

Another attack barreled down on him.

He side stepped it and grabbed hard on whatever he could touch.

His hand ensnared a wrist and the hardly thought maneuver sent them both flying in the same direction.

They stopped in an awkward heap of limbs.

Both fighters froze, unsure of what to do next.

After a while, they entangled themselves and stood there observing the other.

Kusudama’s eye sockets were blown wide for some reason and the previously determined to harm stranger stood there, limbs limp, as papers retreated and scythe unsummoned, leaving only the colorful ball he built earlier.

“What?”

Orchid didn’t let go of his sharpened bone stick as he shook in an unstable stance despite the sudden change of endeavor. This could be a scheme.

The reaper inspected his hands before tilting his head to the right.

“...why are you still alive…?”

While he couldn’t figure out what action should have killed him so surely the fact it didn’t produce such a confused face on “death” itself, he might as well answer what he knew.

“Beat me if I know. That place helped I guess.”

“...I’ll… I’ll come back later.”

With that, Kusudama disappeared soundlessly.

“YOU BETTER NOT COME BACK,” yelled the monster to nobody in particular, the sound echoing in the now empty space.

What a weird day.

End of chapter 9! Go to chapter 10?

Aftertale belongs to @/loverofpiggies Reapertale belongs to @/renrink Berlingot, Orchid and Kusudama belong to me

@dragon-tamer-1 @shinechermont

#sleeping diary #chapter 9 #What in carnation???#that chapter was incredibly satisfying to write #Kusudama is just so fun #so yeah #I made up my own pink!reaper despite the fact I was aware one existed already-#but 1-I'm shy 2-I love making up characters #so this guy I love him #I left a word to be completed later I sure hope I didn't forget about it >:/

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franeridan · 5 months ago

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okay it's been like, sixteen hours to get my brain unstuck from denki I actually want to talk about the epilogue now allow me the luxury to go on a possibily very long rant about bnha even if I haven't actively been in the fandom for about a trillion years, let's go

the thing about bnha is that talking about the epilogue by itself when you talk about whether it was a satisfying ending or not for me is sort of useless since, well, for the setup horikoshi gave to it yes! it was a good ending! I don't know how it could have been better and remained coherent with itself any other way, every plotline he'd held onto until the end reached closure and the characters, for the way they'd been written for ages by then, remained true to themselves and made all around reasonable choices with their lives and future

the problem for me has always been that at some point bnha lost part of what made it appealing to me, changed some characters in ways I didn't understand, and started focusing on morals and ideas I personally didn't share - so when you ask me if overall bnha was a satisfying manga to read, the answer is no. Especially if you don't count the new epilogue, the whole story felt like it had set up a lot of relationships and character developments in the first half that were just abandoned for no reason, and focused too much on relationships and characters I genuinely never thought would have any sort of relevance, so overall there are just some core things I'm not satisfied with, I did not enjoy reading bnha for ages before it ended, on a scale from 1 to 10 it's a barely passable 5.

That's my opinion on the manga as a whole! I've had this opinion of it for literal years by now and I will absolutely not lie, the only reason why I read it till the end is that for the past I don't know how many years I've read each chapter thinking "for sure, time another couple chapters it will end. there's no reason to just drop it if it's about to end." (spoiler, it was not about to end)

That said, when looked at through this context and accepting all the flaws I think bnha has, the epilogue was good, I liked it, it made me happy! I wanna talk about it, I wanna talk about why it made me happy despite it all

first of all, I do not like uraraka's relationship with toga, and I do not like toga - I think all things considered uraraka had no reason to be so obsessed with her, and I also don't think the positive and empathetic light horikoshi wrote toga in was in any way deserved. It's honestly somewhat ridiculous to me that when all's said and done years later uraraka is still thinking about how toga saved her life and conveniently forgetting that she was also the one that nearly killed her to begin with - but that's just uraraka for you! that's how horikoshi decided to write her in the second half of the manga! And if you accept that, if you accept that for whatever reason she was highkey in love with toga and felt responsible for her, I like that her solution to it was quirk counselling for kids. I think that's exactly where she should have gone with it - trying to help kids have a better relationship with their quirks, whatever they might be, and help them avoid whatever the hell happened to toga to turn her into that to begin with. It's good! It's very uraraka! It's also rational! And I like that it mirrors deku's choice to help teenagers navigate their desire to become heroes too

Talking about deku and uraraka, I've never made a secret of the fact that I liked ocha*deku so my thoughts on them are pretty obvious - honestly, whatever ship you might have for them you can't deny that the build up to them specifically was obvious throughout the whole manga, it did feel sorta weird that by the last chapter horikoshi hadn't done anything with it. I think I might be a little partial on this though? I did say that I've always liked the ship. And I think the way he wrote it was cute too! I like that uraraka was ready to stay friends with him and I like that deku needed bakugou of all people to tell him to get his head out of his ass - the whole "if you treat everyone as if they're special it means that no one is" is something I DO believe deku needed to hear, but I can't deny I'm sad it made it in the manga only by the epilogue

I think it should have been a core part of deku's character development. I think it should have been brought up when he insisted on saving shigaraki despite how dangerous and obviously adverse to the idea he was, I think someone should have told him that he needed to get his priorities straight way way way sooner, and not necessarily only in a romantic context. But the truth is that overall I used to have high expectations for deku's personal development and I realised a long time ago that it was just never going to happen, so the fact itself that someone told him that line at all was a pleasant surprise for me

Talking about deku and bakugou!! I can't say I liked the way hori made baku all about deku in the latter part of the manga, but whatever, we have what we have. I'll deal with it. I like that he offers deku to work with him, tbf, because I actually believe most of the things he does for deku are partly to make up for his own past actions and driven by guilt (not entirely, hori made it plenty clear he does like deku, I just think it'd make sense for his going out of his way for deku to be driven by that kind of feelings, in part), but I'm also happy deku told him no the way he did, because despite having resigned myself to character inconsistencies being the norm in bnha I do think it would have been ridiculous for them to have goals aligned enough to work together, by now

Okay let me talk about the stuff I actually care about now

I'm soooooooo pissed off that we needed an extra chapter to get bakugou and kirishima's relationship back on page, but the fact that they ARE still best friends is wonderful to me. I'll take it. I'll take the fact that kirishima can get bakugou to do what he wants by being a shit, I'll take it, whatever, I don't care, after all this time it's way more than I would have hoped for - I LOVE that he's shown to still understand bakugou best (the way he immediately understood what baku was trying to say to deku) and I love the fact that he still has the exact same hairstyle actually. I love love love that at the end it's he and mina and probably either denki or sero that are hitching a ride with baku, how long had it been since I'd last had any bakusquand interactions in the manga? Where were they, horikoshi??

On a related note, I like the dynamic between deku todo and baku. I like how relaxed it feels (I love todo too, even if his development outside of being a hero feels so rushed...add this to the very long list of things I'm glad horikoshi addressed at all, but that I wish he had brought up earlier to give them the proper attention and plot relevance they deserved)

Absolutely insane about the fact that Kirishima is one of if not the one with the highest ranking in the class after todoroki (can I be a broken record? This is exactly what he deserves but how about Showing This To Me instead of just saying it after a hundred chapters where he's done absolutely nothing, horikoshi??). Crazy about Mina's design, god she's gorgeous. Amajiki's design got me crying it's just a haircut why is he so beautiful - and the fact that he's still fat's sidekick!! I love that, I feel like that's so right for him. Sero.... deserved better. LOOOVE the implications of the fact that Aoyama is Hagakure's sidekick (did she help him after he came back to be a hero? Their relationship is so sweet... if only... horikoshi had spent more time on i-*gets shot*)

And yeah whatever I'll say it again Denki's gorgeous!! He's SO beautiful!!! He's Soooooooo insanely pretty!!! And I figure you all know that I liked kamijirou as a ship, but the fact that actually they're just friends is so sweet to me? They have such a cute relationship...... Denki saying he was nervous about starting solo so he picked the building next to Jirou please!! Besties behaviour I love them!! And the way the panel where they deny any romantic involvement is framed *shipper goggles on* with jirou leaning away from denki and on yaomomo I know what you girls are no need to be more explicit than this

(talking about having my shipper goggles on, when baku tells deku he can't see what's right in front of him... and deku says you're one to talk... what are we implying here, deku-san...)

anyway how long is this thing I dunno whatever I'm stopping now, I had a lot of things I wanted to say, I said them, I think I'll go back to thinking about how gorgeous denki is now. Like wow. Wowowowowowow. Wow

#@that anon that wanted my thoughts on it hope this satisfies you #i think i have many more thoughts actually but to talk about them #id have to go back and talk about the past hundred chapters too #and it's gonna be just me complaining the whole time and we don't need that #so !!!!#ye #let's end it here #www

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reds-skull · 1 year ago

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Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

This chapter was very fun to write. I listened to SUPERBLOOM by Silent Planet on loop (it's really good and underrated), if you want to get into the mood you can go listen to it too ig

The plan is practically complete now, the fact doing nothing to calm either Ghost or Soap. The Vaqueros who have been monitoring the bar have informed them they found the PMC’s base of operation - a compound deep in the desert surrounding Las Almas.

They will start by spreading around the compound suspected to house the soldiers of the PMC revenant. 4 teams will form a half-circle, the fifth, composed of himself and Soap, opposite to them. Soap will infiltrate to commence the distraction, Ghost acting as a barrier for any stray soldiers trying to escape, pushing everyone towards the other teams.

Keller and Commander Karim will be the closest team, Farah protecting Alex while he surprises the soldiers, funneling them further towards the Vaqueros and Shadows, Price and Gaz lifting in the air to snipe and allow the Captain to attempt to connect to the revenant’s mind through their servants.

If that fails, their orders are to exterminate all hostiles. Soap was initially charged with that, but the Sergeant vehemently refused, stating his powers are too unpredictable for that.

What interested Ghost is that Johnny didn’t say he couldn’t do it. He just doesn’t want to.

They’re to be deployed tomorrow, using the cover of night to get to their positions covertly.

Ghost rummages around the small kitchen in one of the common rooms, sighing frustratingly when he goes through the same drawer for the fourth time. Where the fuck does Rudy keep all the bloody teabags?!

Gentle footsteps catch his attention, and he instantly turns to watch the door open. Soap stumbles inside, rubbing tiredly at his eyes, clearly not clocking in the other person in the room.

Johnny crashes into a couch, exhaling loudly and leaning his head back on the headrest. Ghost watches him for a moment, examining the exhausted scrunch to his shut eyes. He steps silently closer, leaning forward to stare directly down at his Sergeant.

“Bed too comfortable, Johnny?”

Ghost smirks at the Scot startling, eyes now wide open glaring at him, “yer a right menace, ye know that?”

His smile widens, “not my fault you all have zero spatial awareness.”

Soap grumbles something under his breath, and shoots an arm up towards his mask. Ghost barely has time to react before Johnny shifts the mask to cover his eyes, “the fuck are you-”

He hears Soap get up, the old couch screeching in protest, and the Sergeant pounces on him, starting to attempt to tackle him down.

Ghost almost laughs when he actually pins him to the back of the couch, his petty technique shifting the fight to his favor.

“What’s that about ‘spatial awareness’, LT?” Johnny breathes in his ear.

He moves slightly in Soap’s hold, “ah, I’m at a disadvantage here, Sergeant. It’s barely fair.”

The arms around him tighten as Soap leans in to whisper, “thought yer good enough to win without sight.”

Ghost turns his head to where he assumes Johnny’s is, “it’s not the blindness that got me. Didn’t have my nightly tea.” he states innocently.

Soap pushes off him with a groan, “awa an’ bile yer heid, fuckin’ Brits…”

Ghost chuckles as he rights the mask, finally seeing Johnny frown at him with (mock) disgust. He can’t help provoke him further, “any chance you know where Rudy hides his stash?”

Soap smiles sarcastically, “aye, I blew it all teh high hell, LT”

Ghost gasps, growling, “you didn’t”

“Aye, smelled quite nice, burnt to a crisp.”

“I’ll give you ten seconds to run, Sergeant.” Ghost starts stalking closer to Johnny, who continues to smirk confidently at him.

“How generous of ye.” Ghost’s face hurts from smiling.

He stops in front of Johnny, reaching zero in his head, and swiftly crouching to grab Soap by the torso, slinging him over the shoulder while the man thumps at his back, “Oi! Put me down, ye feckin’ brute!”

Ghost hums, “I warned you, Johnny. It’s only fair, no?”

He drops Johnny on the couch, quickly wrapping his limbs around him to cage the Scot.

Johnny wiggles for a few seconds, until the fight in him runs out, and he settles against Ghost’s chest with a small sigh. Ghost tilts his head to look at Soap’s face, the smile slowly melting off his lips.

Johnny lifts a hand to caress the forearm pinning his chest, a mellow and quiet air hanging around him. “I can’t stop having… nightmares.” he starts unprompted, his voice weaker than usual. “Every night, I kill someone. I wake up and remember I didn’t, but it doesn’t change the fact I could.” his eyes look up at his, “I could kill you tomorrow, Simon.”

Simon relaxes his hold on Johnny into something more comfortable, pressing him closer to his heart, “I told you, Johnny. I’m strong. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Johnny twists to face him more properly, “promise me if yer in danger, don’t hesitate to use Limbo. Even if I’ll be in range, even if it kills me.”

His arms flex involuntarily, as if Johnny will fall apart otherwise, perish under his fingertips. He watches fire reflect in blue eyes, sun in grey skies. He wants to be angry at him, for asking something so selfish.

Johnny may follow him anywhere, but Simon will do anything Johnny asks of him. In that way, perhaps they’re both doomed.

Simon sighs, lowering his head to rest on Johnny’s shoulder, murmuring in defeat, “...I promise.”

Johnny pushes further into him, a gentle fire stroking his cheek in gratitude. Something breaks deep inside him, and Simon lays them down on the small couch, hugging Johnny tightly, letting warmth cradle him.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the crackling flames and soft snores became a lullaby for his aching heart, and he drifts off to eternal darkness.

Ghost watches the last team drop off, their Humvee now driving towards the fifth team’s position. Soap has a serious expression, hands grasping tightly at his own tac vest with a white-knuckled grip.

They jump off, the driver shifting gear immediately to return to Los Vaqueros base. Soap comes closer to fist bump Ghost’s shoulder, “I’ll see you on the other side, LT. Don’t miss me too much.” Johnny turns away with a forced smile, Ghost forlornly gazing at his descending figure.

“First team in position.” Commander Karim radios in. The rest of the teams give their own affirmative, and Johnny finishes with, “fifth team in position, awaiting green-light.”

“Good copy, Soap.” Price responds, “you’re authorized for explosion creation.”

Ghost observes the foreboding walls of the compound stand silent for a minute, before brilliant fire erupts and takes them down. The explosions ramp up, the blaze so hot, he feels it several hundred feet away.

He scans the horizon for soldiers, finding none attempting to save themselves from the blasts.

Did they assume wrong, that the revenant PMC would try to fight back? Ghost grabs his comms, “Sergeant, have you seen any hostiles on your end?”

Soap replies a few seconds later, a little out of breath, “negative. Did you?”

“No, keep burning it down-”

Someone, several hands, tackle Ghost from behind. He growls in surprise, twisting his body to shoot behind him blindly. A body falls to the ground. Three others take its place, grasping at his arms, cold limbs pushing his face to the sand.

Soap shouts in his comms, “Ghost?! Ghost, what the fuck is going on?!”

His comms are still on, he realizes with a flash, “Johnny, get out of there! We’ve been compromised!” he snarls desperately.

“Where are you, I’ll- oh fuck.” Ghost’s rib cage is aching, pressure building inside and out.

“Ghost, there are ballistic missiles here. They’re locking onto something.”

Fuck, FUCK! Ghost fruitlessly tries to shake off his attackers.

Price’s voice rumbles through the radio, “Soap, Ghost! Get yourself out of there, NOW! The revenant, he’s-!”

One of the soldiers crushes the radio, Ghost gasping at the pain shooting down his left shoulder.

“Ah, Captain Price… figures he’ll be the first to find out. Always was such a pain in the ass.”

Ghost stills, craning his neck to lock eyes with the blank faces of the soldiers. The voice echoes from all of them, surrounding him.

The PMC revenant… he clenches his teeth.

One of the soldiers crouches down, taking hold of his jaw, Ghost unsuccessfully trying to shake him off.

“I told you, you will regret not giving the Sergeant to me.”

Cold ice pours down his veins, and he stills.

It can’t be…

“Graves…” Ghost gasps.

Laughter erupts around him, voices overlapping and distorting, “you really thought I’m a fuckin’ non-rev, Simon?” Graves spits his name like a snake’s venom, “I tried to play nice, I really did. But you…”

The faceless soldier tightens his grip on Ghost, “you decided to fuck it all up. I hope you were happy with your ‘Johnny’, because it’s time we have a little fun.”

Graves hums, “I’ve always wondered just how strong Soap is… after the carnage he left in Verdansk” the American whistles in reverence, “only you would be able to match something like that, wiping a quarter city in a flash.”

“Ghost! The soldiers activated the missiles, I have to detonate them before the launch, please just fuckin’ answer me!” a desperate voice calls behind him through comms.

Graves clicks his tongue, “well, Ghost? Wouldn’t wanna leave your boyfriend hanging, do we?” he holds a radio in front of Ghost’s face, “you can either let the missiles launch and erase Las Almas off the map, or you can die. Your choice, really.”

Arctic ice numbs his insides. The missiles hit Las Almas, they kill everyone… including their entire team.

The choice is obvious. And those are the hardest ones to make.

“Johnny…” Ghost rasps at the radio.

“Simon, thank the fuckin’ Reapers-!”

Ghost closes his eyes, indulging in Johnny’s voice for just a little longer, “detonate them.”

A shaky inhale passes through the comms, “are ye far enough?”

Ghost’s neck bows, “I remember the promise.”

Static fills the air for a moment, his breaths loud in his ears. Ghost bites on his tongue just to feel something other than freezing pain.

“It was my choice, Simon. Don’t feel bad about it later, alright?”

Ghost’s voice trembles when he whispers, “I hate you...”

Johnny laughs for him one last time, the sound bringing tears to his eyes, “I knew you’ve taken a shine to me, LT. I’ll see you on the other side.”

He doesn’t want it to end, not yet, not when he just started to feel like he could have this, not like this, not with those words as the last he ever hears “Johnny, I-”

Graves takes away the radio, “now isn’t that heart-warming? You even got your goodbyes in.” Graves sighs, “it’s an honor to see the Ghost die a second and final time. I’ll make sure they’ll know just how you died, Simon Riley. Alone.”

His voice fades away, only heartbeat and rushing blood passes through his ears.

A deafening sound crackles through the air, Ghost’s eyelids glow reds, oranges, yellow, as the wall of inferno comes closer and closer.

For a moment, he can’t feel the cold anymore. He considers letting go, leaving the world by Johnny’s hand, as he was destined.

For a moment, he considers breaking Johnny’s trust, sacrificing himself to let the other live. He imagines how he would react, how he would hate Simon for the rest of his life. He wants to smile. At least he would be alive to despise him.

He imagines, only for a moment.

Ghost opens his eyes.

Limbo envelopes the world, the dark, cold realm curling around him like death’s last hug. He screams, pushing the soldiers off, leaving them to be consumed by his victims.

Molten light leaks from Ghost’s eyes, pain like no other spreading through him. He doesn’t want to look ahead, to see where the residents run towards, to watch as Johnny is being ripped apart by his own murdered souls.

A strange creature moves in Ghost’s peripheral. He shakily lifts his gaze from the empty ground. A… moth?

A burning moth, wings fluttering and shedding embers of vibrant colors, circling his protective light.

Ghost tilts his head, the creature gentle and soft as it lands on his shoulder, warming him like a small ray of sunlight.

It reminds him of…

Someone screams. Not the gurgled wails of Limbo, a clear, anguished voice.

Ghost finally looks at Johnny.

He stands tall, fire covering his arms, trailing up his shoulders, lighting his back with white flames. Leaving a halo behind him. A single holy being in the void.

Dark hands grasp at his fire, try to steal it for themselves.

Johnny takes a hand, shouting.

He explodes the arm. Everything that touches his Sergeant, ignites in beautiful colors, lighting up Limbo in a way Ghost hadn't thought possible. Everywhere he steps, leaves marks of warm light. Everywhere he looks, moths flap softly and spread little sparks.

Johnny’s eyes are glowing, rapidly moving from shape to shape, decimating everything in his path.

Light traces its way down Ghost’s mask.

Johnny is breathtaking.

Their eyes meet, beyond the vast fields of the void.

“SIMON! I CAN’T HOLD ON MUCH LONGER-” One hand leaves a path of shadow on Johnny’s arm, “MAKE IT STOP! SIMON, MAKE IT STOP-!!!”

Simon’s breath restores, he inhales sharply and sends his arms forward, palms taking hold of the imaginary reins on Limbo.

One heartbeat passes.

“ARGHHH-!”

Simon pulls back his arms, yelling as he feels tendons snapping. Limbo swirls, fights back against him, tries to sink its claws back into Johnny.

He pulls harder.

Simon is flung back several feet as the void rushes back into him. His head hits the ground and then-

Darkness.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod ghost #cod soap #phillip graves #revenant au #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare #cod fic #cod fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #>:)#I was planning a much meaner cliffhanger but I was feeling nice #also the chapter would've been super short otherwise #so many questions answered in this one finally #hope It's as satisfying to you as it is to me

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