#i mean youre telling me his power makes him glow BRIGHT NEON GREEN

[mithrilbookofmystery]

It's MY hyperfixation on a kid's show I've never seen, I get to redesign the main character's post-show outfit however I want!!

[hadesrise]

asshole… wait, he’s not?

summary ➳ you’re a well known asshole dating the practical sunshine, wally west. everyone’s entirely against his relationship with you until they find out your true nature.

pairings ➳ wally west x male reader

warnings ➳ fluff, strong language, mean!reader (even to wally but no angst), cold-to-everyone-but-not-to-lover trope, mention and false accusations of abuse, injuries, reader has magical powers, tooth-rotting sweetness halfway through, mild violence

author’s note ➳ here comes my first wally fic that i didn’t know how to end LMAOAOSJDLK i’ve been spoiled about what’ll happen to him (still on season one ‘cause i still haven’t renewed my netflix yet) and i currently go through everyday ignoring that fact while pretending it never happened. it’s working so far :D

The team watched with a frown as Wally rambles about his day while you don’t listen and even had the nerve to look annoyed, scrolling through your phone.

They hated witnessing how you ignore Wally almost all the time. You rarely ever respond to anything he says, and when you do, it’d always be rude or snarky as if you can’t stand breathing the same air as him. Dick would often yell at you for being an asshole to his best friend who you’re supposed to be nice to since he’s your boyfriend, yet all he ever get from you is a simple glare and snappy ‘fuck off’.

No one knows why Wally’s still with you even after being treated horribly. They can’t even see the love and adoration you’re supposed to have for him, and certainly Wally isn’t stupid to be delusional that you’re in love with him. Sure, he’s madly in love with you and that can be the reason why he still follows you around like a stupid puppy, but there’s no way he doesn’t get the hint that you just don’t return his feelings despite being in a relationship when you make it so fucking clear.

“—And our teacher told me I was the best student. Can you believe that!? I used to be her least favorite one because I usually made her job harder than it should’ve been, but she said she was proud to have me as her student.” Wally tells his story enthusiastically, his grin almost reaching his ears and green eyes sparkling bright in pure joy.

You only glanced at him and the food that laid before him on the table. “Are you gonna keep talking or actually start eating?” You said rather rudely, sarcasm rolling off your tongue as if it was your native tone.

The team can’t help themselves but shoot a glare your way.

How can you not be supportive of your own lover?

You could’ve said something positive about his story-telling, definitely not ignore the entirety of it.

However, what they did not understand was Wally’s response and reaction — the speedster’s joyous grin shifting into an adoring one as he picks up the spoon and fork before beginning to eat, stopping once in a while to resume his story-telling, which you obviously don’t pay attention to.

You basically told him to shut up in an extremely rude way and he wasn’t even hurt by it. In fact, he seemed happier and giddier than seconds ago, his green eyes looking at you with love that’s more clear and visible as he continue to speak.

“How is he not hurt by (Y/n) treating him like shit?” Artemis hissed in a whisper, asking the same thing everyone’s asking themselves.

“He could be hiding his pain.” M’gann theorized, to which Dick nodded at. “Yeah, that’s possible.” He agrees, glancing at his best friend.

“M’gann, can you read Wally’s mind?” Kaldur instructs.

M’gann nodded and she turns to yours and Wally’s direction, eyes glowing neon green to read his mind. However, she was immediately pushed back by an invisible force and a sudden pain rushed through her head, causing a pained yelp to erupt, hand instantly flying up to touch her temples on instinct.

Conner was beside her quickly, worry plastered on his face and hand coming to rest on her back.

“What’s wrong?” Dick questioned.

She shakes her head, “I can’t— I can’t read his mind. Something’s not letting me.” A frown spreads across her lips. “This never happened to me before. It’s like something’s protecting his mind and hurting anyone who tries to read it.”

All of them exchanged looks, before their gaze simultaneously fell on you.

“Could it be...?” Artemis trails off, subtly pointing her finger at your direction. Even though you’ve been with them for a little while now, they still haven’t figured out anything about your powers, so it couldn’t be bad to make assumptions, right?

Dick nods. “It could be.”

“You shouldn’t assume anything just yet, Robin and Artemis.” Kaldur disapproved with a shake of his head. “We do not have a proof that (Y/n)’s the one keeping M’gann from reading his mind and we should not accuse him of something we have no proof of.”

“So what should we do now?” Conner asked, agitated. He was already annoyed at the fact that you’re being an ass to Wally as a boyfriend, but M’gann getting hurt by someone, assuming you, doubled over the anger. He just wants to confront you about anything and everything. “We can’t let him still be with that guy, right?”

“Of course! We’ve been letting him get away with it, but now he won’t be.” Robin states firmly. However, when they turned their heads to yours and Wally’s direction, you were already staring at them with the usual, blank and cold look you always wore, making them flinch unintentionally.

Your gaze was calculating and somewhat knowing, as if you knew or had an idea what they were talking about just seconds ago. Though, you seem to not care. You never did — never cared what others thought of you, never cared what others felt, never cared for anyone but yourself.

In their eyes, you were a selfish jerk.

“Do you think we could spend some time together in the arcade?” Wally asked, body almost vibrating with excitement.

You look at him, and the team doesn’t notice the look that you gave Wally whereas he noticed. “No.” Your reply was fast and cold. Artemis and Robin abruptly stood up from their seats, but Kaldur immediately holds them back as M’gann tries to calm Conner down.

However, Wally’s smile doesn’t vanish. “Okay then, babe.”

You sigh, seemingly annoyed. “Are you done? I have to meet up with Mikayla. Won’t be back ‘til midnight.” Standing up from your seat, you grabbed your jacket to wear it without waiting for his reply.

Wally beams at the sound of your friend’s name. “When can I meet her too?”

“Probably not soon.” You shrugged coldly.

His smile turns into a sad frown at that, excitement dissolving. “You said I’ll get to meet her sooner or later.” He pouted.

You rolled your eyes, “Well, not yet, okay? It’s not my fault she’s not available every day.” You use your phone with one hand, tapping on the screen and probably texting this said Mikayla. The team, however, grew suspicious at how you seem to be hiding it from Wally as the back of your phone was facing him, completely unable to read the text messages.

Unbeknownst to them, you were actually taking a picture of your pouting boyfriend since he looked adorable.

“I’m going.” You announce and walked off without another word, phone in one hand while shoving the other in your pocket.

“Buy me a box of doughnuts!” Wally calls out before you reached the zeta tube and smiled when you only glanced over your shoulder, disappearing without a word uttered. He turns back to his foods, fishing out his phone to watch something as he continues to eat.

The team looked at one another, finding out they all have the same thing in mind. They didn’t waste another time to immediately take a seat around Wally, surrounding him, who now had a look of confusion plastered over his face.

“Walls, why are you still with that asshole?” Robin asked rather aggressively. He wanted to just let out everything he thinks and feels about you, since he’s been holding back so long to not put your in your place.

All the others nodded and waited for his response.

Wally tilted his head, as if he didn’t know what they were talking about, genuinely confused. “Because we love each other...?”

“I think that should be ‘because I love him’. We’ve never seen (Y/n) show signs of love towards you.” Says M’gann more softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

Artemis crossed her arms, “He doesn’t even look like he cares about you for that matter. He looks abusive.” She blurted out without thinking properly, and Wally immediately scowls. This is the first time his smile dropped completely today.

“You don’t get to call him that when you don’t even know him fully.” Everyone were surprised at the genuine anger and hint of disgust in his voice.

Wally never got angry, at least not genuinely, often whining out his feigned anger towards them. But with the way he speaks seriously without whining or yelling, it’s clear he isn’t pleased and is pissed at them. Looking at each faces of his team, his sharp glare pierced through them that they had never experienced before. Although it raised confusion within their mind why he was angry, it was enough to stop them from further speaking about nonsense.

“He cares about me more than you could ever think of! If you don’t see that, then it’s your fault and not ours.” He spat, fire of fury flaming within his eyes. “You’re just not making an effort to look past his exterior personality! I know he loves me; he shows it through simple but subtle gestures that no one notices. Quit judging him when you only know how he is in public!” Wally hissed harshly before slamming his hands on the table as he stood up to walk away, taking the half-eaten foods with him.

The team shared a look.

What is he talking about?

You never showed any love or adoration towards him as far as they’ve seen, and they highly doubt snapping and ignoring Wally is your special way to tell him your love.

If this is how it’s going to be when the speedster is in a relationship, they’d rather have him flirt with literally any living creatures ever than him settling and pining over a world-class asshole who doesn’t seem to know how to treat a lover. That overly flirtatious Wally is more bearable than this seemingly blind-to-love one.

“He shouldn’t be angry at us.” Conner scowled, irritated that Wally couldn’t see what’s wrong. “We’re trying to help. He should be thankful.”

Kaldur only shakes his head, “Leave it be, Conner. Perhaps, he sees something in (Y/n) that we don’t. Or (Y/n) could be letting Wally see his inner personality.”

Placing his hand on his chin, Robin slightly tilts his head up to think for a while, remembering what his best friend had just said seconds ago. “That’s possible. He did say we’re not making an effort to look past his exterior.”

“Or he could be harming Wally?” Artemis chimes in with a puzzled tone as M’gann nods beside her, holding Conner’s hand.

“No, I’ve seen how victims of abuse behave after their abuser’s gone and getting angry at concerned people are definitely not it.” Instantly, Robin shuts it down with a shake of his head and sips on his drink for a moment. “Besides, if he was really being abused, there would be multiple signs whether it’s physical or verbal. He’d have trauma, couple of bruises, and fear towards anything that has to do with (Y/n), which he doesn’t have any at all.”

“But we can’t be sure! What if—”

“Enough.” Kaldur immediately interrupted Artemis, not wanting to further accuse you of something you never did. “Accusing (Y/n) of something without evidence is wrong. Wally did get angry at us because of that, and I’m certain we don’t want to anger him more. Let’s just leave them be.”

Artemis opened her mouth to retaliate, but M’gann stops her by placing one hand on her shoulder. “Kaldur’s right, Artemis. We shouldn’t accuse him.”

With that, a sigh left Artemis’ lips as her shoulders slumped, nodding her head defeatedly.

They were right, accusing you won’t solve anything and neither will it change the way you behave towards Wally. It’ll just make matters worse. She didn’t want that. And although it hurts her to see the love of her life be treated horribly by his lover, she can’t deny that she doesn’t have any right to complain about their relationship because it isn’t her business.

So she decided to stay silent, knowing all of them will still look after Wally from afar.

If they can’t move against you, then they’re just gonna have to try protecting him.

“Kid Flash!!”

Artemis’ horrified yell made you snap your head towards her direction, almost getting yourself a whiplash in the process, and your eyes widened at the sight of Wally bleeding out on the ground. Feeling rage bubbling within your body, you immediately flipped the henchman you were fighting and trapped one of his legs between yours before twisting your body, breaking it at the force so he couldn’t walk.

After hearing his scream and the loud painful snap of his leg, you let go without a second thought and narrowed your eyes, enhancing the vision to check up on Wally.

His shoulder seemed to be dislocated while blood oozes out from his side, seemingly hit by a blast. His head was bleeding as well due to coming into contact with the cemented ground, which made you worry enough, and then your eyes darken when you caught him holding his ankle.

Dark feelings surround your chest and you began taking the enemies down by yourself to end this mission quick, wanting to tend to Wally as soon as possible. This gave the members an opportunity to help the speedster up, who kept himself from letting out a pained sound at his sprained ankle.

Artemis stood on the side with blood drained from her face and guilt consuming her. She had been distracted enough to not notice a huge blast coming her way and Wally paid the price for it. Although it’s partially yours and Wally’s fault that she was distracted (because she realized the two of you were subtly protecting each other during fight), it still didn’t make her any less guilty for causing injury on him.

After knocking the last guy unconscious, sirens were finally heard throughout the area as the cops arrived, making you simultaneously relieved that you can now look after Wally and annoyed that they always take long before arriving when being called.

You watched as Wally lean onto Robin for support, helping him towards the dropship. You trusted Robin even though he doesn’t believe so. He’s a great friend to your boyfriend after all and they had been bestfriends for longer than it might seem.

“(H/n)?” Kaldur gently calls out, but stops in his tracks when your dark, glary eyes met his. It almost looked murderous that if he didn’t know better, he’d say you could kill all of them with that look. “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” He tries, being a good leader that he is.

You exhaled deeply, and Kaldur recognized it as a way you calm yourself down. “No.” The tone in your voice definitely said something was wrong, but Kaldur chooses to not pester any further when you gestured for him to get back into the dropship after everyone had gotten in.

Getting into the dropship, Kaldur wasn’t able to process quickly before he saw you already storming towards Artemis, who was trying to approach Wally, unaware of the thunderstorms about to drop on her way.

“Wally, I—”

She didn’t get to let out another word.

“What were you doing?” You snapped harshly, and everyone was taken aback by the utmost rage in your voice, the glare you shot to her so intense and intimidating that she actually flinched. Even Wally was surprised as he had never seen you so angry before, eyes wide.

“I— I was distracted.” Artemis lowers her head in shame.

“Distracted? You could’ve gotten all of us killed, not just Wally.” You hissed through gritted teeth and Artemis forced herself to look at your eyes that were raging with fury. “You were trained, Artemis. Getting distracted on our line of work is unforgivable and shouldn’t happen even once, specially when we have hostages, which you were fortunate we didn’t. If we did, they would be dead now.”

“(Y/n)—” Wally tries to interrupt, but you quickly shut him up with a death glare.

“No, you’re badly injured because of her.” You returned your glare to Artemis, leaning closer. She kept herself from stepping back. “I thought you were better than that, but I guess not. Green Arrow picked a not yet good enough one to be a hero.” You spat.

Her eyes widened and she raised her hand to slap you across the face, but you quickly caught her wrist before she could. “Can’t handle the truth?” You mocked, tilting your head.

She glared at you, “I know I made a mistake. But you don’t have any right to tell me I’m not good enough because I have proven my worth before being inserted into this team. You don’t get to judge or doubt my abilities just because of one mistake that I’ve never had before.”

You narrow your eyes. Artemis can’t stop her face from scrunching in pain when your grip on her wrist bruisingly tightens, but it wasn’t intentional as you were clearly filled with rage. “One mistake? Artemis, it’s a mistake that could’ve fucking cost Wally’s life. What if he got permanent injuries? What if he was unfortunate enough to not survive the blast? Can you live with the consequences and the eternal guilt that you ruined one’s life? For fuck’s sake, you know as much as we do how harmful it is for a speedster to twist or sprain their ankles. That’s an injury you should never cause them, but you did, all because you let yourself be distracted. I have every right to judge and doubt your abilities when my boyfriend’s life was almost at stake because of your carelessness.”

The other members — Robin, Kaldur, M’gann and Conner — shares a surprised look at the care and concern very clearly shown in your tone and expression.

There was also a hint of... possessiveness? They’ve never seen you like this before. Almost as if all those mean and hurtful things you said and did were fake.

“I—” Artemis opens her mouth to counter, but closes it when no sounds left her lips. Her mind strongly told her you were right and that she had nothing to argue over. Feeling her strength leave, you let go and stared her down as she hungs her head low. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Kaldur finally interferes upon sensing there’s no need to let this fight continue. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Distraction is a dangerous thing for us. Make sure you control yourself, Artemis. You need to be careful on our next mission.”

She nods without a word, walking away.

Kaldur turns to you and a scolding look plastered his face, “You, (Y/n), have to be careful with the words that runs out of your mouth. She made a mistake, but that doesn’t mean she’s not good enough. We know what she’s capable of, and I know you believe in her whether you admit it or not.”

You only rolled your eyes in response, deciding to ignore him until he’s done with the scolding. Wally cackles at the i’m-done-with-everything expression that replaced your previously rage filled face as you kneel in front of him.

“Oh, what is this? Are you gonna propose to me?” He asked teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Shaking your head, you sighed at how cheerful and joyous he can still be even after his life was and is at risk. “Shut it, Wallace. Stay still.” You take off his shoe and gently inspect the sprained ankle, seeing a bruise starting to form. “It would hurt to walk. We don’t have ice packs, so I’m gonna freeze it. Is that okay for you?”

The team raised their brows in sync at the soft tone in your voice and the worried look.

Wally nods with a grin, giving you a thumbs up.

Turning back to his injury, you gently hovered your hand over where the bruise was starting to form and begins to freeze it slowly, Wally jumping slightly at the sudden cold spreading across his foot towards his ankle.

Once it’s done, he chuckles upon seeing his entirely frozen foot. “I have glass foot now. Do you think I can be Cinderella?” He childishly asked.

They expected you to roll your eyes and express annoyance like always, but you look up at him with a small, amused smirk forming on your lips. “Sure you can, baby. But it’s gonna be unnecessary to go on a dance ball since you already found your own prince charming.”

Robin blinked, while the others had their mouths open. Even Artemis who was getting her shit knocked before by you had her jaw dropped, all of them unable to believe that the asshole boyfriend is being caring and sweet and loving, and even calling Wally pet names.

Holy shit. All of their minds uttered in sync.

You stand up to inspect his dislocated shoulder next, before frowning at the easiest yet painful process that your boyfriend will have to go through.

Wally saw your frown. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

“We have to pop your shoulder back into place.” You informed worriedly without hesitation, and Wally froze in his place.

Being brutally honest and direct was one of the good traits you have that he loved about you, but sometimes he wishes you would lie, specially when it comes to the painful process of popping his shoulder back into place. There was once he dislocated it before which you had to pop it back into place, and it was not a pleasant experience.

I’m never doing that again. He said. I’m never gonna dislocate my shoulder so I won’t have to go through that again. He said.

Look where he is now, funnily.

You ruffle his hair seeing the fear in his eyes. “It’ll be over quick. Bite into my shoulder if you can’t take it.” Sliding your hand down to cup his cheek, you kissed his forehead in reassurance.

Wally pouted. “Lips, pleaaaase.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you leaned in to capture his lips in a short kiss before sitting down beside him as Wally leans his body towards you, resting his head on your shoulder. You carefully touched his dislocated one, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. “Bite down as hard as you can.”

He nodded, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck to smell your cologne.

After feeling his mouth on your shoulder, you grab his arm with one hand while the other held him in place and pulled it quickly and forcefully, hearing a loud pop that everyone either grimaced or flinched at. Wally quickly bites down harshly when he felt his shoulder being popped back into place, tears immediately filling his eyes from the rush of pain.

You then gently touched his shoulder, using your magic to heal it faster as (f/c) mist surrounds your hand so he wouldn’t have to wear a sling.

Feeling him pull away, you pet his hair gently with a soft look before swiping your thumb over the skin below his eyes, wiping off the tears. “See? That was easy, wasn’t it? You did great, love. My sweetheart.” You lean over to press a kiss on his previously injured shoulder before peppering many around his face.

Wally giggles, still holding his side that had just seem to stop bleeding. “Our team’s watching, baby.” He reminded.

You never liked showing affections in public due to respecting other people’s boundaries and also because you think he’s too good for you, which is why you chose to have such an asshole exterior. Wally was totally fine with the way you act because he understands the meaning behind everything you say even when all you just said was no or yes.

Pulling away, you gave him a look with your brows raised. “Do you think I care? I almost lost you. You know I can’t live without you, right?” Wally’s heartbeat sped up at the sincerity in your eyes before you touched his bleeding side and a (f/c) mist surrounds your hand again, healing the injury, frowning at the blood that stained his Kid Flash suit.

He grinned, “Of course, baby. You tell me every night how much you love me, and I love you just as much.”

You smile, nodding. “I know, love. Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt? How are you feeling?” Gently, you hold his head and tilt it left and right to inspect any injuries that he might’ve gotten.

“I’m dizzy for you.” A cheeky grin spreads across your boyfriend’s face as he wiggled his eyebrows, pointing at you with two finger guns.

That immediately earned him an eye-roll and a glare. “I’m serious, love. Concussion isn’t a joke.”

“Oh, come on, babe! I’m just messing with you. I’m doing fine. It just looks like I have one ‘cause I bled. I didn’t hit my head that hard.” He reassured and kisses your cheek, before pulling away to flash you his typical toothy smile.

A small yelp escaped Wally’s lips when you suddenly pulled him on your lap, burying your face into his uninjured shoulder with a sigh of relief. Closing your eyes, you slowly inhaled his scent and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his torso safely and protectively, deciding to cherish his existence instead of worrying further more.

Robin turns to the team to whisper, bewildered. “Am I the only one seeing this? Am I hallucinating?”

All of them shook their heads in sync.

Seeing you like this shocked them greatly and although they had wished before that you would treat Wally right, it feels weird to witness you actually treating him according to what they had hoped you would. They got so used to the asshole you, so seeing that behavior completely disappear had them creeped out in a way even though being nice to people is what you’re supposed to do. It’s practically like seeing a ruthless, malicious, blood-thirsty villain turn into a giant, clingy puppy who only loves and wags his tail to his owner.

They should be happy and they really are for their fellow teammate, but they can’t deny that everything feels like a dream or hallucination when they see you being all lovey-dovey and sweet and romantic towards Wally.

They’d probably take a while to get used to this side of you. And since Wally isn’t surprised at all, they figured you’re like this behind closed doors when nobody’s around. Though, it still didn’t explain how he doesn’t get hurt at how you treat him out in public.

“It is a great thing to actually see Wally being loved. It seems they have hidden this side of (Y/n) from us.” Kaldur stated, smiling at the sight of your face still buried on Wally’s shoulder while he pets your head and talks as usual.

“But why?” Asked Conner, now feeling guilty that he got angry at you for how you treated his friend.

“I asked Wally telepathically. He said it’s because (Y/n) feels uncomfortable showing public display of affection and that he respects our boundaries.” M’gann answers.

Confusion appears on Robin’s face again. “But I thought someone’s blocking you from reading his mind?”

She shrugged, smiling. “(Y/n) allowed me to. He blocks anyone from reading both of their minds when we don’t have any mission because he’s taking precautions. And also because they don’t want other people in their business.”

“So he really was the one behind it.” Artemis sighs, feeling like an idiot for giving you such accusations. You must probably know what she thinks about you, though you never showed any care. “What powers does he have anyway? Aside from healing, ice powers and mind block.”

M’gann looks at Wally and successfully connects him to their mind link, where their voices wouldn’t disturb you cherishing his existence. “They want to know what other powers (Y/n) have.” She informs the confused Wally telepathically.

A toothy grin immediately spreads across his face as his eyes brightened, excitement rushing throughout his body. “Right! I honestly don’t know the specifics, but he has very powerful magic that he can practically do anything he wants.” That earned him a shocked look from the team. “I’ve seen him do telekinesis, regeneration, telepathy, all elemental manipulations, fear manipulation, and create force shields. I bet he can do more than that, but he doesn’t like wasting his strength and energy.” He shrugs, still petting your hair.

“Having magic already makes him powerful enough, but to have complete control over each and all of them? That’s a whole new level.” Says Kaldur in awe. He stares at you even though you can’t see him, impressed.

“My boyfriend’s awesome, right?” Wally exclaims proudly, puffing his chest out.

You suddenly chuckled, pulling your face away from his shoulder. “I can hear you, for the record. All of your thoughts aren’t exactly quiet.” You’re not supposed to hear their mind link since it’s only shared between them, but your magic was strong enough to break through.

They look at you in shock. “You can hear through our mind link?” M’gann questioned, earning an amused giggle from Wally and chuckle from you at her jaw dropped expression. The others were plastering a dumbfounded look as well, which added more to yours and Wally’s amusement.

Tightening your arms around Wally just enough not to hurt his side, you rested your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah. You’re not strong enough.”

M’gann frowns at the rude way you said it before Wally gently nudged you back with his elbow, giving you a scolding look. “Babe, teammates, remember? They’ll misunderstand unless you say it in complete sentence what you actually mean.”

As if remembering just now, your eyebrows shot up in realization and an apologetic look crossed your face. “Sorry. I meant you’re not exactly strong enough to block me from your mind link. I didn’t mean you’re not strong in terms of fighting crimes — I think all of us here knows how much capable you are.” You awkwardly elaborate, like you’re not used to getting words after words out of your mouth.

The young Martian’s frown disappears almost in an instant and a happy smile instead makes its appearance. “Oh, I understand now. Thank you. Do you think I would be able to do that if I train more?”

You shrugged, “I honestly don’t know. But it wouldn’t hurt to try, I guess. Depends on your limit.” She grinned at your answer. It’s her first time having a conversation with you that doesn’t just consist of short and one word reply.

Kaldur and Robin can’t help but notice the way you fidgeted with Wally’s fingers while you talk to her, seemingly trying to distract yourself from feeling awkward at the new interaction. They also noticed how you struggle to give a throughout reply or even say your thoughts out loud in complete sentences, and how Wally has to encourage and reassure you multiple times by squeezing your hands.

Then, it clicked in their minds that you were never rude nor cold, it just came out that way because you’re not used to speaking out everything you had in mind.

You’re just reserved more than average people — short replies are the only things you can come up with due to forgetting that you have to elaborate for people to understand clearly. In short, you have difficulty in properly communicating with people as you often tend to assume they would understand you even with just few uttered words.

You probably always forgot it doesn’t work that way around the team because Wally understood you fully without saying your complete thoughts out loud.

Sharing a look, Kaldur and Robin nodded at each other before approaching you.

“Hey, (Y/n).” You averted your eyes from M’gann to the boy wonder. “We’re sorry for thinking you were an asshole and not good enough for Wally here.”

Kaldur nods with an apologetic smile. “All of us misunderstood you completely. We should’ve get to know you first before judging you because of how you treated Wally in front of us.” Shame was written across his face.

You shrugged and closed your eyes when Wally’s fingertips gently massaged your scalp, nuzzling into his shoulder. Wally chuckles, smiling at the two standing in front. “(Y/n) says don’t think about it too much. It happens all the time with him.”

“So why don’t you let people know they misunderstand you?” Conner chimes in with a softer tone, coming to stand beside Kaldur and Robin. “They can’t keep thinking you’re an asshole when you’re not.” The two nodded in agreement, waiting for your response.

You paused, opening your eyes to think for a while. It honestly didn’t come to your mind.

“I’ve always known I’m a hard person to understand since I was a kid, so I probably got too used to it that I didn’t find explaining myself necessary. People believe what they want to believe. It’s no use to explain anything.” They all frown at the subtle sadness in your eyes that quickly disappeared after Wally gave you a squeeze. “Also, Wallace can understand me perfectly fine so I’ve never thought about it ever since meeting him.”

You kissed his cheek and he let out a giggle, turning his head to peck your lips. “Now that everyone knows you’re not really an ass, you have to elaborate everything you say until they understand.”

Groaning, you buried your face on his shoulder once again, grumbling. “Why can’t you be the one to elaborate? I can just say yes or no. You understand whatever I say anyway.”

“Baby, I love you, but you gotta work on your people skills otherwise you won’t survive in a society.”

“No.”

“You’re right, we’re already in a society and you’re surviving, but they still want to understand you. They can’t if you don’t elaborate.”

“No.”

“M’gann is the only one who has telepathy here, and she can’t always be the one to elaborate. You also forgot you block our minds to ensure our safety.”

“No.”

“Babe—”

“No, Wallace.”

“Don’t you want to get close with them? Be friends?”

“No.”

“Oh, you know that’s not true. They already know you’re not an asshole, they’re not gonna go back to thinking you are.”

The team watched you and Wally go back and fourth, half of them impressed by his skills to completely understand you with just one word uttered while the other half were confused how he does it. You’re not even talking to him telepathically yet he understands. If they ask Wally, he’ll probably answer them it’s the power of love.

But really, he just understands everything about you from little gestures to brief eye contacts. Everything you do has its own meaning that are hard to figure out, though with Wally, he easily sees through them all.

In all honesty, the team now sees you as a difficult puzzle they need to solve in order to fully understand, to get to know you.

The dropship finally comes to a stop, all members walking down the ramp as they watched you carry Wally bridal style and follow them, Wally’s arms around your neck. He was obviously happy that you don’t hold back from public display of affection anymore, his shit eating grin being a proof of that.

“Can we cuddle in the main room and watch a movie? It’s bigger than ours.” You raised your brows. Wally kisses your cheek before smiling sheepishly, “I wanna show them how sweet my boyfriend is and that he’s not an asshole even though he can really be mean to others sometimes.”

You chuckle, walking past the team who stopped from moving to watch you both. “I thought you said they already know?”

He pouted, “Is it bad for me to want to show you off? You’re cute when you’re sweet, you know.”

“And when I’m not?” You quirked a brow.

“Hot as hell.” He grins, earning a snort from you and seeing amusement plaster the team’s faces.

You shake your head with a smile, playfully rolling your eyes. “Whatever. I’m getting you clothes to change into and then I’ll bring us popcorns and drinks after I set you down on the couch, okay?”

Wally’s eyes sparkled at the mention of popcorn and cheered before nuzzling his face into your neck, knowing you’ll take good care of him today.

His injuries hurt as fuck, but if the team got to know you better because of those, then maybe it was worth it.

He’ll never say that out loud though.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴅᴇsʀɪsᴇ. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[bubblegumbeech]

Homemade

Day 2 Dannymay: Home

Clockwork made cookies, they were a special blend he’d invented through countless trial and error to get just right. For a ghost, they'd have enough concentrated ectoplasm to provide energy and enough positive emotion to make them enjoyable, and for a human child, he focused on getting the right flavors and physical ingredients to make them actually edible.

 He set the plate down in front of Danny. The young half-ghost had been working really hard at his homework lately and Clockwork wanted to do something small to reward him for it.

 “Are- did you make cookies?” Danny asked, looking up at him in confusion.

 Clockwork smiled and gently ruffled his hair. “Will you tell me how they taste?”

 Most ghosts lost the ability to taste early on, along with their sense of smell. Clockwork never had either though, only had glimpses into different futures with different recipes and Danny’s own reactions to them.

 “Please tell me this isn’t the first time you’ve made cookies…” Danny made a face, uncertain.

 Clockwork rolled his eyes and grabbed the plate again, “you don’t have to eat them-“

 “I’ll eat them!” Danny grabbed the plate from Clockwork’s hands, a splash of green decorating his cheeks and forming a stark contrast against his starlit freckles.

 Braced as if for impact, Danny quickly shoved one of the still warm cookies into his mouth and began to chew. Slowly his features softened into enjoyment and Clockwork got to watch as he grabbed another and then another until the entire plate was clean.

 He was glowing slightly, the oven-baked ectoplasm doing wonders for his energy levels. Existing so long on ambient ectoplasm alone wouldn’t have been nearly enough for a young ghost like Danny, so it was nice to see him properly fed for once.

 “Clockwork, these are amazing! How did you make them?” Danny asked, his eyes shining slightly.

 “That’s a secret,” Clockwork lied. He didn’t want to admit it took him over a thousand tries to actually make something edible to a human pallet, and he had enough of a mysterious air about him that he’d get away with it.

 Danny didn’t seem to mind though, he just grabbed the plate and flew over to the kitchen so he could wash it. “Okay, what do I have to bribe you with to get those again?”

 Clockwork’s core hummed in satisfaction, it was almost a primal instinct to care for one’s child and it was always nice to be appreciated. “Finished homework would be a nice start.”

 Danny scoffed, a small smile on his face. “I think you need to lower your standards. I mean, I’m passing history now right?” The single dish was cleaned, dried, and put away in less than a moment.

 “Thank you Daniel,” Clockwork said. Danny didn’t get nearly enough appreciation from those around him, it never hurt to give him a little when he could.

 A light green blush built on Danny’s cheeks and he looked away in an attempt to hide his reaction. “Yeah well, you make cookies like that again and I’ll clean your whole clock tower.”

 Clockwork smirked, lifting an eyebrow. “The infinite spirals of my clock tower and the unending trails of time that exist ever moving inside of it would certainly appreciate a touch up.”

 Danny balked, “uh… maybe I can do a room at a time?”

 “You don’t have to clean anything for cookies Daniel. I’d rather you eat than not.”

 Relieved, Danny rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “Thanks Clockwork.” He sighed and dropped his hand, looking over at the window to the realms outside. “Ugh, I don’t wanna go to school tomorrow.”

 There wasn’t much to say, so Clockwork didn’t. He didn’t particularly care about Danny’s academics or whether or not he succeeded in school, but he knew intimately how much it mattered to Danny. It was tied to his two obsessions after all.

   He had to go to school so he could both make his family happy and be there to protect the other students, he had to succeed if he ever wanted to fulfill his dreams of working at NASA, the human space program. At the thought of absolute failure he would stress, shut down, and grow apart from those close to him. It would put strain on his obsessions and could lead to internal core damage. It was better for now, that Clockwork simply gave him time and the chance to try and keep up.

 “You’re always welcome to visit if you need more time,” he offered.

 “I know. I’ve uh, still got homework to finish…”

 “By all means.” Clockwork followed Danny out of the kitchen and watched as he sat back down to finish his homework, content with the healthy glow the cookies gave Danny.

 He turned back to his own work and watched for anything that didn’t fit or was causing trouble, but his mind was on the next recipe he wanted to try.

       The next recipe ended up being a casserole.

 Cliche to be sure, but decidedly more filling and sufficient than just a plate of cookies, and this time when Clockwork set it down in front of his young ward he was met with more enthusiasm than suspicion. Despite the bright pink color and the more… mobile parts of the dish. It was difficult to make something that met all the necessary requirements to properly nourish a halfa      and     have it look appealing so Clockwork had hardly tried.

 Danny dug in.

 “This is the most amazing casserole I’ve ever had in my life and that includes any and all ecto-contaminated food I’ve ever snuck out of the fridge without my parents noticing how did you do that?” Danny asked, shoveling another forkful into his mouth.

 Clockwork purred at the praise, and was glad to see Danny’s glow get even brighter. It was so pale before, barely even there in a way it never should have been with Danny’s obsession and power. “I suppose the difference would be that I was doing it intentionally.”

 Danny nodded. “Makes sense.” He took a moment to pause from devouring his food to look up over at Clockwork sitting across the table from him. “Are you going to eat anything?”

 How thoughtful. He should have probably prepared for that but, well. “I’m afraid trying to eat something with that much physical matter from the human world would go poorly for me. If you’re uncomfortable I can make some tea?”

 “Oh,” Danny looked at his half finished meal, realizing something and unable to react properly to it. “Yeah, tea sounds nice, can I have some too?”

 “Of course,” Clockwork agreed easily. He would be using a delicate mixture of herbs and spices from different parts of the infinite realms that Sojourn liked to gift him whenever he bothered to visit. None of them should have any adverse effects on the boy, and if he chose the right mixture, it might actually help him to calm down slightly.

 By the time the tea was finished and cooled enough to drink, Danny had finished his meal and cleaned up so that the two could sit and enjoy their tea together.

 Danny spent a moment too long staring into his cup, the swirling neon blue of the forgoent leaves—a small blue plant native to some of the darker forest realms, similar to the mortal realm’s forget-me-nots. Clockwork didn’t know what he was thinking, couldn’t see a timeline where he actually spoke his thoughts out loud. He sighed and took a drink of his own cup, the tea’s soothing blend serving to take off the slight edge of his anxiety. It was difficult caring for a child, even with his power.

 “Thanks for the tea Clockwork,” Danny said, “and uh, the casserole too.”

 His voice was quiet, but sincere and Clockwork accepted his thanks with a small nod of his head. The rest of the evening went on like that, mostly silent but not unpleasant in each other's company. When Danny left to go back to the mortal realm he paused at the clock tower’s door and quickly turned back to Clockwork, pulling him into a quick, tight hug that had him almost freezing time instinctually before Danny pulled away and quickly flew off.

 Clockwork stayed there, floating in the entryway to his lair and felt his core practically screaming at him in delight.

 He needed a way to distract himself, maybe he could start working on another recipe?

     Pie was unnecessarily difficult, Clockwork decided, despite its place as the most popular fairy-tale dish ever mentioned. He’d made no less than three thousand six hundred and four different variations of the damned recipe and not a single one had even stayed together, much less been even remotely edible.

 He sighed. At this rate, even freezing time wouldn’t help him accomplish this before Danny arrived. He was admittedly impatient for an immortal entity with all of time under his control, and he wanted to actually be able to spend time with his ward rather than an eternity trying, and failing, to bake something.

 Which is exactly how Danny had caught him taking a failed experiment out of the oven, having arrived while Clockwork was distracted.

 “Is that a pie?” he asked, excitedly reaching for it.

 Clockwork quickly held it out of the young halfa’s reach, unwilling to allow him near his utter failure.

 Danny blinked, his face drooping into an exaggerated pout, “I can’t have some?” Clockwork felt his core ache a little. Maybe he should have stopped time until he got it right?

 “It’s not fit for consumption at the moment,” he said, carefully floating it out of reach and towards the end of the counter. He didn’t have anything resembling a human trash can, it was uncomfortable to keep waste in one’s lair afterall, so he’d have to leave it on the counter for now. He could dispose of it properly later, maybe as fertilizer for his garden.

 “Oh don’t be like that,” Danny said, floating around Clockwork and completely ignoring his very valid warning. “I’m sure it’s fine, everything else you’ve made has been delicious.”

 Well yes, everything else he’d made had been very much intended to be delicious. This one was a failure. However, Clockwork wasn’t going to admit to the amount of effort that had gone into each and every piece of food he’d made for his young ward. It would be uncomfortable at best for Danny and horridly embarrassing for Clockwork.

 “I’ll make another one for next time, please-” Clockwork didn’t even finish his sentence before Danny was grabbing a piece of the crust and shoving it into his mouth. “Daniel!”

 Danny smiled. “Yeah okay not your best work, but it’s edible for sure.” He grabbed another piece and ate that as well and Clockwork didn’t really know what to do. On one hand, he was right: it was certainly edible, there would be no adverse effects caused by Danny eating the food, and it would be just as nourishing as the other meals Clockwork provided. But on the other hand, it could not have tasted pleasant. All of the futures where he tried serving this to Danny as normal were met with disappointment at best.

 So why was he content to eat it like this?

 “I knew you couldn’t be perfect,” Danny snickered. He grabbed a fork and a plate from their places in the kitchen and then floated over to the table, pie-adjacent pastry in hand. “Are you gonna make tea again?”

 “Yes,” Clockwork answered, glaring at the pie. The horrid pie that Danny was eating because not every single meal needed to be perfect and Clockwork, as always, had been over-complicating everything.

 The atmosphere at the table was soft and comfortable. It was certainly something Clockwork was unused to, enjoying company for company’s sake. And to think they wouldn’t be here as they were, had Clockwork succeeded fully with his task. It brings up a question, actually thousands of different, related, questions, about failure and success and the weight of either.

 Danny smiled at him from over the half eaten pie. Clockwork smiled back.

 An alarm went off and Danny shoved one last bite into his mouth before flying off towards the main room of the clocktower. “Shoot, I forgot I promised Jazz to let her help with my english homework.”

 There was a flurry of papers while Danny tried to gather all of his things. Pencils shoved precariously into his bag and folders of half finished homework assignments quickly followed. The half finished pie on the kitchen table was completely ignored, as it should have been to start with.

 “You seem to be in a rush,” Clockwork said, watching amusedly. Either Danny had forgotten Clockwork’s particular powerset in his haste, or he hadn’t thought to ask for a medallion. Either way Clockwork found it too amusing to offer his aide unless Danny thought to ask.

 “Yeah, yeah,” Danny tried to say over the strap of the backpack he held in his mouth in lieu of his busy hands. “I’ll be back home s-”

 Danny blushed and stuttered out something awkward and intended to drag attention away from the slip of his tongue. But Clockwork just smiled, watching the boy finally gather his things and quickly make his exit promising to come back tomorrow for dinner.

 Wasn’t there a human saying about home and food?

[darks-ink]

Darkness - Ectoberweek 2020

Yes I wrote this one because I just really wanted to write Vlad and Danny meeting in Antonym-verse, shh. Don’t say anything.

[first part]

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Supernatural Words: 2,147 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Sequel

[AO3] [FFN]

---

“Well,” Danny said, humming thoughtfully.

“Well,” the other person agreed, his bright red eyes absurdly visible in the dark room they were in.

Since the man didn’t seem inclined to talk, Danny didn’t bother to, either. Instead he started peering around, blinking his own vivid green eyes. Even though his retained night vision usually did him little good, he was glad to have it, now. He highly doubted ordinary humans would’ve been able to see in the pitch black they were in.

Unfortunately, the room did not include any hints as to where he was, nor why he was here.

“You’re Danny, aren’t you?” the man suddenly asked, his red eyes narrowed. “The Fenton’s adopted son?”

Danny hummed. He wasn’t sure if he was legally adopted, the human world had so much complicated paperwork, but they certainly seemed intent on counting him as their son. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, figuring he should vocalize. “But I don’t think I know you. Do I?”

The man visibly considered that, weighing options against each other. Finally he offered a hand to Danny. “Vlad.”

“Well, you already know my name, obviously.” Danny shot him a grin as he took the hand and shook it. “But I’m Danny.”

“And you’re half-ghost,” Vlad said, a strange emphasis on the ‘half-ghost’. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, so are you,” Danny pointed out with a shrug. “I think that the more pressing questions are “where are we?” and “how did we get here?”, don’t you?”

Vlad hummed at that, expression somewhere between pleased and aggravated. Someone was digging for information, huh? “Yes, I suppose you’re right. You don’t know either, then?”

“Nope,” he agreed easily, taking his eyes off of Vlad to look around again. The room was empty and featureless, absolutely non-distinct in how bland it was. “But! I don’t think we’re in the Ghost Zone.”

“How can you tell?”

“Not nearly enough ectoplasm in the atmosphere.” Danny leaned over to knock on the wall. “And these are solid. Humans can go through walls in the Ghost Zone.”

“You seem to know a lot about the Ghost Zone.” Vlad’s eyes narrowed once more.

“Yeah, well.” Danny paused, reconsidered. Vlad didn’t seem like a ghost, not like him. Vlad seemed like a human. If Danny could become part human as a ghost, why couldn’t a human become part ghost? “I guess I spent a good bit of time there.”

“And your parents?” Vlad pressed, cold disinterest in his voice.

Danny snorted, dismissive. “You mean my biological parents? Dunno. Can’t remember them. That’s why the Fentons took me in, y’know? Now can we please focus on getting out of wherever this is before we continue the interrogation?”

“Yes, of course,” Vlad said, graciously. Like this was anything to be gracious about. Danny bet that if he’d been in full control of his powers he could’ve beaten the other half-ghost easy. But, alas. He was still fighting to control his core, never mind use his powers properly. He would have to settle for civilized human behavior.

“Good.” Danny turned away from Vlad, walking along the wall, one hand trailing over it. The whole thing felt solid in a uniquely human way. Definitely no ghosts involved here.

The door, when Danny reached it, was no less solid. He grabbed onto the rounded doorknob and jangled it, but there was no give. Definitely locked. “Yeah, we’re not getting out this way.”

Vlad, who still hadn’t moved, the ass, hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose we will have to use our powers to leave, then. I see no cameras of any sort, do you?”

“No,” Danny admitted, releasing the door and looking around just to be sure. “I suppose you’re right. Some intangibility and invisibility should get us out.”

“Yes, indeed.” Vlad crossed his arms, waiting for a moment before arching his brow at Danny. “Well, go on then.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “It was your idea. You go first.”

The man stared at him for a moment longer, his red eyes boring straight into Danny’s, before he sighed. “Fine, then. But only because I suspect I cannot hope to out-stubborn a teenager, let alone one raised by Jack Fenton.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow at that unexpected hostility. Sure, he’d only known Jack for a month or two, but still. He seemed like a good man.

Vlad’s transformation was similar to Danny’s own. A spark of light from the chest, from the core, forming into rings which passed over the body, and shifted it from one state to the other. Admittedly Vlad’s were bizarrely black, while still giving off light, but it didn’t really matter. Not now, at least.

No, Danny was far more interested in Vlad’s ghost form. He looked rather like a typical ghost, up to and including a thematic appearance. And what an appearance. Vlad had gone full vampire on his looks, with pale blue skin, empty red eyes, pointed ears and sharp fangs. His hair, black in ghost form, was swept up into gravity-defying points, and his clothing did not match the suit he’d been wearing at all.

Hell, the guy even wore a cape. What kinda person did that?

But… Vlad had gone and shifted to his ghost form, so Danny supposed he’d better follow suit. Mentally crossing his fingers that his powers would hold—his core was still settling back into proper stability after his accident—he called his core to the forefront of his existence. Light flashed as he, too, transformed into a ghost.

Vlad quirked an eyebrow at him, judgment heavy in the air. “A jumpsuit, boy, really? You are certainly a Fenton, aren’t you?”

“It’s Phantom, actually,” Danny correctly idly. “The jumpsuit is just a coincidence.” He lifted up from the floor, trying to judge how well his core was doing that day. “Now come on, I don’t have all day.”

“And you think I do?” Vlad scoffed, but started floating as well. “I will go first. I expect I will be more likely to recognize where we are than you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to be so haughty about it. “Sure, knock yourself out.” Danny swept out an arm in a wide arc to underline the statement, throwing in a sarcastic bow as well.

The gesture clearly wasn’t lost on Vlad, but he apparently made the choice to ignore it, flying towards one of the walls and flickering invisible before he hit it. With a roll of his eyes, Danny followed, focusing his senses on the feel of Vlad’s core so he could track the man while invisible.

Outside it was… also dark, admittedly, but not as hopelessly pitch-black as inside. A glance upwards confirmed that it was a regular dark—stars barely visible due to a nearby city, and the new moon that was supposed to come that night.

Vlad was still nearby, although invisible, so Danny let himself drift over. “Well,” he said when he was close enough, keeping his voice low since they were still invisible. “I don’t think we missed much time. The moon phase is correct.”

“Hm. And what do you know of where we are?” Vlad asked, a tone of curiosity layered under the smarminess of his voice. “Or have you spent all your time looking up?”

“I thought you were going to focus on our location?” Danny shook his head, realized Vlad couldn’t see, then decided to look around anyway.

And, huh.

“Well, at least we’re not far from home,” he said, feebly.

They were on the outskirts of Amity Park.

“You aren’t, no.” Vlad huffed, a sound of displeasure. “Unlike you, however, I live in Wisconsin.”

Cool. That meant very little to Danny. He was pretty sure that it was a state in the country he was living in, but where, or how far away it was? Absolutely meaningless.

“Okay, well… If you know the Fentons you can probably stay over?” He let his invisibility drop, since the strain on his core was rather unnecessary. The people of Amity Park didn’t look up enough to care about ghosts in the sky. “And if you didn’t… Well, they probably would let you stay over anyway. They’d love to talk more about your half-ghost-ness.”

“Joy,” Vlad muttered, and he could not possibly have put more distaste in the word. “And you do not care to stay invisible, then?”

“I can’t keep it up forever, dude.” Danny shrugged, letting his legs blend away into a tail as he drifted in the direction towards home. “Besides, I know Amity Park. It’s a safe place to fly without invisibility, trust me.”

Vlad scoffed, but dropped his invisibility as well. “Very well, then. Lead on.”

Danny nodded back, then shifted into proper flight, making sure to keep his speed fairly low. As annoying as it was to have to hold back, he knew he couldn’t make full use of his powers, not while his core was still recovering from the transition. One day, hopefully, he’d get back to his prior strength.

Still, that did make him wonder. It definitely seemed like Vlad was a human who’d become half-ghost. How did that work, compared to Danny himself? How strong was Vlad? Did he need to wait for his core to mature the usual way? That almost seemed easier to Danny than what he was going through. A slow progressive growth, rather than having all these powers and not having the power to use them.

And Vlad had conveniently skipped around explaining how he knew the Fentons, too. Honestly, he was kind of giving Danny the creeps. Something about his behavior was just… off. Weird.

Or maybe that was just how slimy he was, how haughty, how superior. Yugh.

Vlad didn’t try talking to him while they were flying to FentonWorks, although he did raise a questioning eyebrow at the neon sign when they landed behind it.

“The glow of the sign will hide our light,” Danny explained with a shrug. He’d been told by Jazz that the sign was an oddity among humans, but he didn’t think it was that weird. “We can enter the house through the door up here.”

“Why not phase inside?” Vlad asked, crossing his arms. “That way no one will see us.”

“True. But it’s also rude to go inside without announcing yourself.” Danny grinned at Vlad, displaying his own sharp teeth, before releasing his core to shift back to human form. The flashing light was barely visible beyond the glow of the sign. “Coming, Vlad?”

The other half-ghost sighed, making a motion like rolling his eyes—despite the fact that they were empty in his ghost form—but transformed back into human form as well. “I would’ve thought that using ghost powers meant we were no longer following human sensibilities, but it’s your house.”

Human sensibilities? What, has no one ever told this guy the rules of lairs in the Ghost Zone? Yikes. “You do realize that it’s a thing in the Ghost Zone too, right? Not randomly wandering into people’s lairs?”

“And how would you know?” Vlad sneered back, his eyes dark for the first time since Danny had met him. “You’re what, fourteen? And clearly new to being half-ghost, too.”

“Yeah!” Danny snapped, feeling his core kick up a notch. He was so tired of this asshole. “Yeah, I’m new to being half-ghost! Because I was a full ghost before this!”

He leaned in closer to Vlad, seeing the reflection of his glowing eyes in Vlad’s. “Just because you think you’re a big deal doesn’t mean you are. You don’t know shit, Vlad.”

Satisfied that he’d gotten his point across, Danny whirled around, pulling open the door and climbing down the stairs. After a moment, he heard Vlad follow.

“You are… a ghost turned half-human?” Vlad asked, quietly. “Not the reverse?”

“Not like you, no,” Danny confirmed, opening the door to the upper floor hallway. “But the Fentons will still want to talk to you.”

“No.” Vlad stopped before crossing the door. Danny, too, stopped, turning around to face Vlad again. “No, I don’t think that that’s going to happen.”

“What?”

“I thought I had found someone like me. For that, I was willing to put up with Jack Fenton, at least for the moment. But now?” Vlad scoffed, a derisive sound. “For a poor ghostly imitation? No, certainly not. Goodbye, Phantom.”

With that, Vlad whirled around, vanishing from sight. Danny could still track his core—apparently Vlad had shifted forms almost immediately—but he was, in fact, leaving.

“Well. That just happened,” Danny muttered to himself as Vlad left the premises entirely. “Wonder what the chances are that the Fentons know more than one guy named Vlad.”

He shrugged to himself, continuing down to the living room, where his family waited. Guess he had some more mysteries to solve now.

Like that room. What the fuck was up with that?

[the-werdna]

Title: Robcina Week Day 3 - Free Day

Description: Just another day after school. No new incidents in the outrealms. No upcoming exams. Perhaps the perfect day to spend some time with Lucina. She had mentioned something about wanting to go shopping. What was the worst that could happen?

Notes: Once again we delve into my Awakening Persona AU, because no one can stop me! Takes place prior to Chapters 41, 47, and 61 of Love Across Time, which are likewise set in this AU

Words: 2099

A shrill bell chimed, announcing the end of the school day.

Robin quickly scratched down the last few characters he'd been copying from the board into his notebook before standing. The notebook, his pens, pencils, and other school supplies were swiftly shunted into his open backpack a moment later. That settled, he stepped out into the hallways, blinking against the afternoon light streaming through the windows of the hallway,

Right, now I just need to decide how to spend the rest of the day, Robin thought to himself.

He had several options after all. Since it was a Tuesday, the sports club wouldn't be meeting, so that wasn't an option. He did still have the writing club he could attend or perhaps one of his part time jobs he could always attend. Studying in the library was always an option, though by this point he wasn't sure it could offer much improvement anymore, having scored top of his class the past two exams.

Perhaps now would be a good time to work on one of my "social links", Robin pondered. He sighed. He really did hate that term, at least when referring to time he spent with the many friends he'd made since coming to the town. The way Igor referred to them, as if they were simply a means as a wild card user to empower his Personas… it felt too clinical to him. Too impersonal.

That said, since Kendo club won't be meeting today either, Lucina should be free, Robin realized. She did mention something about wanting my help picking some stuff out next time she went shopping.

Making up his mind, Robin made for the front door, swapping out his school shoes for his usual pair before heading outside. Looping around to the back of the school, he found Lucina right where he expected her to be, seated on one of the benches that overlooked the plot of land maintained by the gardening club. Though not a member of the club herself, he knew that Lucina still enjoyed the peaceful spot near the flowers. Though summer was almost over and soon the garden would be empty. He couldn't help but wonder if she'd still come to the spot then.

Lucina didn't notice him at first, her gaze on the butterflies fluttering between the flowers. Only when he was a few steps away did she look up, turning to him. "Oh… Hello, Robin" Lucina greeted, standing.

"I was wondering if you would be free to hang out?" Robin asked.

"Oh, yes, of course. Actually, I was thinking of stopping by a store on my way home. Would you like to come? Of course, only if you are interested."

"Lucina has asked to spend time with you…"

"Since you have Lachesis, a Persona of the Fortune Arcana, you feel you could be closer…"

"Will you spend the afternoon with Lucina?"

"I'd be happy to. You did mention you wanted my input on some things, right?" Robin asked.

Lucina looked happy at this, nodding fiercely. "Yes, of course! Come, let us hurry then before they close!"

. . . . .

Making their way to the clothing store, the two quickly set about browsing through the racks, Robin letting Lucina take the lead.

"What do you think about these," Lucina asked, producing a skirt and blouse she'd picked.

"Well it's… certainly very you, Lucina," he said, trying to speak as politely as he could.

In truth even a fashion novice such as himself could tell the two pieces didn't remotely go together. The blouse, yellow with red polka dots, and the skirt, green and purple stripes, clashed immensely. Nor was it helped that both were possibly the brightest and most saturated pieces of clothing in the entire store, so much that they practically glowed.

"Hmmm, I suppose. Though perhaps…" setting the outfit aside, Lucina reached for another shirt. Then a jacket, and then a set of pants. "What about these?"

The pants were bright orange. The shirt was lime green with pink flowers. And the jacket was sky blue with neon yellow stripes down the arms. It honestly wasn't much better.

Robin opened his mouth to try and tell her the truth, only to stop as his gaze fell on Lucina's face. She was smiling brightly, looking happier than he'd ever seen her. Her eyes sparkled with radiant joy, her smile one of almost childlike glee. In that moment Robin knew he couldn't be the one to take that away from her.

"I think it's perfect," he told her. Somehow he even meant it, as even as he imagined her in his mind's eye wearing the garish ensemble it somehow looked great on her.

"Thank you! I'm so glad," Lucina told him, draping the clothes over an arm. "To tell the truth, I haven't been shopping for clothes like this since I was little. My mother used to take me all the time back then…" There was a brief moment where her smile faltered at the mention of her mother, but it quickly recovered. So complete was her happiness in that moment, even that memory couldn't steal it from her.

Returning the first outfit to the rack, Lucina stepped back, again looking at the clothes she picked out. "I wonder if I can find anything else that will go well with this? No, it's fine on its own. I just know it will look great with what I already own," she touched the red and blue striped scarf she alway wore. "So shall we go to the register then? There is still time before I must run off to work, and I'd like to go check one more place before-"

Lucina stopped at the sound of harsh laughter coming from nearby. There, several racks over were three girls Robin recognized from school though he did not know their names. Though he thought they were third years like Lucina.

One of the girls shielded her mouth behind her hand, whispering something to the girls. While he couldn't make out what was said, the smug way she regarded Lucina and the outfit held in her hands made it plain enough exactly what was the subject of her scorn. Snickering giggles from the other girls soon followed, taking shared amusement at whatever remark had been made at Lucina's expense.

At once Lucina's eyes seemed to glaze over slightly, growing distant as she returned the clothes to the rack. While her expression remained stoic, Robin could tell just how saddened she was.

Anger flashing, Robin turned, starting towards the girls, fully prepared to give them a piece of his mind. However before he could move more than a couple steps he was stopped by Lucina, blocking him with an outstretched hand.

"It's alright, Robin. They're not worth your time," Lucina assured him. While he caught a brief flash of appreciation in her eyes, evidently touched that he'd so quickly jump to her defense, the sadness in her voice remained.

Robin turned and watched as the girls departed the store, leaving the two of them alone.

"Why did you stop me? Their behavior was uncalled for," Robin asked.

"It's nothing I am not used to," Lucina told him solemnly. "As long as I can remember, I have often been a source of mockery among my peers. On account of how ill-adept I am when it comes to more… feminine interests, such as these. As well as my other oddities..."

Robin knew exactly what she was referring to. Lucina's mother had died of illness when she was very little, and with her father's time so often occupied with work, it had fallen to Lucina to take over much of the raising of her younger sister. Combine that with working several part time jobs to supplement their family's income taking what was left of her time, Lucina simply hadn't had time to live a normal childhood and be like other girls her age.

She looked back at the abandoned outfit and sighed. "To be entirely honest, I had hoped this would be an opportunity to learn, but I suppose it was not to be…"

Reaching out, Robin picked up the clothes from the rack, handing them back to her. When she looked at him in surprise, Robin explained, "the Lucina i know would never give up so easily. No matter what others may say."

"Robin..." Lucina trailed off, hesitantly accepting the clothes from him. Briefly their hands touched, and both of them pulled away at the contact, blushing.

"Erm, right…" Lucina turned away quickly, trying to hide her reaction. "I thank you for your kind words. Truly." She glanced back up and him sheepishly, before quickly looking down at her feet, embarrassed….

"You feel your relationship with Lucina has grown deeper…"

"The Lucina Social Link has reached level 6!"

"Your power to Create Personas of the Fortune Arcana has grown!"

"Lucina's growth of heart has affected her Persona as well…"

"Sigurd learned Light Amp!"

"Still…" Lucina at last managed to look up, glancing between him and the mismatched outfit. "Are you certain this won't seem odd for me to wear?"

Robin considered this question for a long moment. At first he considered telling her it would likely draw mockery from people like those girls, but he quickly shoved that thought aside. He remembered how happy Lucina looked before and so he made up his mind. "It doesn't matter if others think it does or not. I just know you'll look beautiful in anything you pick out."

Lucina spun back to face him, her face turning an even brighter shade of pink at his remark. "I… uh…" she stammered staring at him.

At once Robin cursed himself. Why had he said that last part? Stupid, stupid, stupid. It had just slipped out. He hadn't-

No, he told himself. That was a lie. He'd meant it, even if he hadn't intended to say it.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" Robin tried to say. Liar. You meant it.

"N-No, it's quite alright. Lucina glanced up at the clock on the wall of the store, seeing the time.

"I'm sorry Robin, but I need to go. My shift starts soon," she excused herself, referring to one of her night jobs as a waitress. "I'll go check out. There is no need to wait around for me"

Not even waiting for a reply, Lucina started towards the register, only to then stop, looking back. "Oh, and Robin?" she asked, her words halting and awkward. "What you said means a lot, truly. So, thank you." She bowed her head and then hurried away.

Robin watched on for a moment, then departed the store, feeling thoroughly foolish and embarrassed by what he'd said. He decided to head home for the evening.

. . . . .

Laying down on the couch in his room, Robin flipped the page through the book he was reading. At the rate he was going, he likely wouldn't finish it that evening. It will take one more night still, he thought.

He sighed, letting the open book fall over his face, covering it. He still couldn't stop thinking about earlier… about what he'd said.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, he scolded himself. Even if he'd been telling the truth, some things were better left unsaid. Even though Lucina had tried to brush it off, he was certain there would now be some new uneasiness between them. How could it not? He was living in the same house as her, and her father was his guardian for the year. Revealing how he felt, even so indirectly, could only make things more awkward…

His phone vibrated once, buzzing on the coffee-table. Lifting the book from his face, he glanced over, seeing the blinking light indicating a new message. He reached for it, then hesitated. Working up all of his considerable courage, he snatched it up and swiped the screen.

It was a message from Lucina.

"ROBIN. THANK YOU FOR SPENDING TIME WITH ME TODAY. I WOULD LOVE TO DO IT AGAIN WHEN NEXT YOU HAVE TIME."

Robin starred, rereading the message again and again, certain he'd understood it incorrectly.

She… wants to spend more time with me?! Even after I… He shook his head, unable to comprehend what was going on. Could she possibly feel like- No, that would be silly. She just wants to keep spending time as friends? Right? That's it. Unless- No, stop! Bad Robin!

Robin groaned, tossing his phone aside and again hiding his face in the book. Dammnit, this just makes things even more confusing...

He decided to stop reading and go to bed for the night.

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

Best Two Out of Three

A/N: i know y’all have been waiting so anxiously to see who won the sparring fight between demon!harry and angel!Y/N and i’m more than happy to finally give it to you guys! i hope you enjoyyyyy

word count: 7.9k

content: cocky yet lovable asshole demon!h and a smidge of filth  

preview:

Y/N knows that fighting has to do with impulse just as much as training, and she knows the brain finds comfort in patterns. Lower left hip, the center of the ribcage on the opposite side, meaning that instincts expect her to strike somewhere on his left side again. This is exactly why she does the contrary, slamming her palm against Harry’s right shoulder and smirking to herself when, out of her peripheral vision, she glimpses him trying to protect his left. The impact sends him jarring backwards.

Her knee zones in on his abdomen, though he manages to block it with his conjoined fingers, catapulting her heel towards the ground. She advances forward with two quick punches between his pectoral muscles and then one straight for his jaw, which he manages to evade by ducking his head sideways. Harry returns her jaw punch with one of his own and she just barely skims by unscathed, dropping towards the floor onto her belly and slipping between her boyfriend’s parted legs. She flips onto her back, pulling her legs against her chest and then jutting her heels upwards with all her might. Harry’s ass takes the heat.

He’s launched forward, stumbling a few feet and saving himself with the pads of his extended fingers against the mat. He reels around to face Y/N (who has already recovered her footing) with an expression of shocked amusement at her target. Y/N retaliates with a coy shrug of her brows. 

“You quite literally just kicked my ass.”

“And I quite literally enjoyed it.”

or Y/N challenges Harry to a sparring match with two very important prizes on the line: a strip tease versus a month of litter-box duty.

///

“First rule: absolutely no powers in any way, shape, or form.” Harry tightens the neon yellow boxing tape securely around Y/N’s knuckles, tugging the last layer with finality, ripping the excess off with his teeth. “Which means you can’t shock me with that electricity shit you do with your fingers.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s static.”

Harry tosses the roll of athletic wrap into the supplies bin he has at the corner of his work-out room, eyelids dropping over his irises in a disbelieving, humorous scowl. “I’m pretty sure static doesn’t look like pastel blue lightning.”

Y/N shrugs easily as she extends and curls her bound fingers, trying to get used to the firmness of the protective cloth. She glances upwards, batting her eyelashes at him with a blank stare of faux innocence. “You never know.” 

Harry reaches into the left pocket of his starch white Nike gym shorts, fishing out a hair tie as he drifts towards a rack of bo staffs at the opposite corner of the room, pulling his messy curls into a short ponytail atop his head. Y/N can’t rip her gaze from the way the taunt muscles of his back shift with his movements, rippling beneath the thin material of his grey-wash Harley Davidson muscle tank.

“Second rule,” he picks up one of the long, waxy wooden poles, giving it a slow, full spin as he passes it between his palms, “no dirty play.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

Harry’s grip clenches around the middle of the combat stick, the familiar bite of the smooth surface prickling his skin and sending a buzzing up his arm. He smirks knowingly down at his feet while Y/N distractedly peers at the veins chiseling their way up his forearm. “Neither did I, but I want a fair fight so that when I beat you, there’s no wiggle room.”   

“You sound so confident, it’s gonna hurt my heart when I make you eat your words.” Y/N jolts her eyebrows challengingly, a teasing grin toying with the edges of her pursed lips. 

Harry tilts his head back up, eyes focusing on his girlfriend as she rests in an instinctual defensive stance a few feet away from him, clad in an old Vans tee and a pair of black compression tights he’d let her borrow. His chin edges upward, the gesture tainted with an aura of cocksure smugness. The natural glint that reflects off the usual deep canopy green of his eyes suddenly brightens— the unmistakable sign of a darker, more reflective hue washing over it. 

“Lucky for me, mine stopped beating a long time ago. Means I’ll feel absolutely nothing when I wipe you across the floor.” 

“Mm, I don’t believe that.”

“You’re right. I forgot ‘satisfied joy’ is an emotion.”

Harry reaches for another staff, picking the one at the bottom rung. It’s completely black, the surface twinkling alluringly under the light that streams in through the sheer silver curtains, giving away that the weapon is made out of some type of stone or gem. 

He catches Y/N studying the stick intriguingly, voicing the answer to her curiosity. “It’s made of obsidian and onyx. Forged by a good friend downstairs. It’s weighted specifically to my hand, balanced to my liking.”

With his single free hand, Harry gives the staff a few quick, skillful twirls that show off his close fellowship with the tool, the pieces of onyx strewn within the tempered obsidian bouncing the faint rays of sunlight all across the maroon walls of the room. He slams one end down onto the floor, the circular flat edge digging into the royal blue safety mat covering the entirety of the ground. “Never lost a fight with it.”

Y/N tilts her head to the side a tad, licking over her lips as excited anticipation starts sparking across the tips of her fingers. “There’s a first for everything.”

Without warning, Harry hurls the other bo staff toward Y/N with his full strength, wanting to test her impulses in order to survey his competition. 

Y/N doesn’t miss a beat, her body acting on centuries of muscle memory and celestially-spiked adrenaline. Her arm shoots outwards, the staff ramming longways right into the palm of her awaiting hand, digits wrapping around it tightly as she absorbs the strength behind the blow, her own canceling it out. 

Harry simply gives a satisfied nod, his bare feet padding against the vinyl plastic of the mat as he draws closer to her until they’re about a yard apart. He leans against his custom prop as Y/N lowers her’s beside her right thigh, his eyes tinted their usual jade once again, full of impressed amusement.

“Final rule: best two out of three wins and if you’re down for at least three seconds, you lose the round. The first two are hand-to-hand, the last one is with the staffs. I’m guessing you’re versed in Krav Maga, right?”

“Was there when it was invented, so obviously.”

“Jujutsu?”

“Mmhm.”

“Taekwondo?”

“Yeah.”

“Boxing?”

“Yes. I can also make a mean bologna sandwich and can touch the tip of my nose with my tongue. Are you done stalling?”

“Just wanna make sure that when I win, you don’t pull ‘I wasn’t taught that style’ as an excuse.”

Y/N lightly chucks her pole just outside the bounds of the practice mat, where it won’t be an obstacle. “I’m a little insulted you’d think so little about Heaven’s first line of defense.” 

“And I just don’t want you to be a sore loser. Pettiness isn’t a cute look on you.” Harry quips as his staff is strewn across Y/N’s, the crack of the impact echoing across the entire apartment. 

He starts rolling his shoulders to loosen up, craning his neck from side to side, feet shifting into a diagonal, parallel fighting position. “Did you stretch? Wouldn’t want you to pull a muscle mid-kick, would we?”

Y/N mirrors his posture, pushing a few rogue strands of hair from her eyes with the back of her hand, bare feet planting themselves steadily apart as she ducks slightly, knees bending a smidge to calibrate her center of gravity. The grip of the rubbery plastic beneath her toes fills her with a type of soothing hum, her muscles purring as her senses hone into crisp awareness. She can hear the blood pumping in her ears, feel the coolness of the air expanding her lungs, and she can even make out the faint, dull ringing that is suspended in the electrified air, which fills the gap of Harry’s lacking heartbeat. 

“Don’t worry about me, I’m all good.”

Harry holds up his palms in a peaceful gesture, the bright boxing tape seeming to glow in the dusky light swimming across the air. “Just trying t’be a caring boyfriend.”  

His hands fall into fists, thumbs instinctively resting beneath his lower round of knuckles instead of tucking under his fingers— a method he’d learned early on in his training, conceived with the notion of preventing one from breaking their thumbs with the force of their own punches. The flat side of his forearms face outwards as a first line of defense, veins carving their way under his skin as his fists clench readily, itching for the feel of collision. 

His heels carve deeper into the mat, balancing his mass and revving his nerves. “Ready?���

“Ready.”

“Alright. Ladies first.” 

As much as Y/N hates to admit it, it makes sense that Harry won the first round. 

He’d recently been assigned to coaching the newest flight of demons-in-training, meaning that for the last two weeks, he’d been practicing on his combat skills for six hours a day, five days a week. Y/N hadn’t sparred in a while— months, maybe. She was unfortunately rusty and it shows pretty evidently in how it takes Harry less than a minute to give her left cheek a mat-patterned makeover. 

She had started off fairly solid with a distraction technique that she was always confident in. A punch aimed right at the center of Harry’s sternum with the intent of cutting off his airflow, which he blocked swiftly, just as she predicted he would. 

What she wasn’t expecting was the form he used to block her. 

Y/N expected him to throw up his forearms parallel to one another to defend himself, meanwhile she would use that split second to sweep him off his feet with a hooked kick to his right ankle. That was the original plan.

Harry threw a wrench in it. 

Instead, he crosses his forearms in front of his chest, Y/N’s fist ending up wedged between them. Her eyes do a terrible job of hiding her alarmed panic as she glances up momentarily, met with an expression of conceited triumph painted over her boyfriend’s annoyingly handsome features. The sly snark in his voice makes her teeth grate. “Oops.”   

The small change in tactic was enough to throw her off rhythm; the rest of the round was basically his for the taking. 

He doesn’t waste a single moment, delivering a quick, sharp kick to the side of her left knee, using the hold on her wrist to twist her arm roughly, throwing her body off equilibrium. She is met with another kick right to her stomach, the front of one of Harry’s calves hitting her about an inch above the belly button, right below the ribs. Y/N crumples to her hands and knees, a deep ache radiating across every one of her bones, concentrating mainly on the points that had taken the blows. All of her attention is diverted to her labored breathing, having to consciously force herself to go through the motions, her lungs rattling with every inhale. Her eyes blur with overwhelmed tears, which she messily wipes away with the back of her hand before Harry can see them. 

She’s not hurt, just stunned (the ache is ebbing away fairly quick as her self-healing kicks in). She hadn’t realized just how out of practice she was until now.  

Harry allows a few seconds to drag by (both for her sake and the three-count forfeit rule) and then crouches down level with her, elbows propping on his knees as his head cocks sideways to catch her line of sight. He reaches forward and gently taps on Y/N’s nose playfully, voice airy and teasing (though there’s an obvious haughtiness in the undertone). “Don’t take this the wrong way, darling, but if this is what Heaven’s first line of defense is like, it’s pretty shitty.”

He offers her his hand and after a pause of petty hesitation, she begrudgingly accepts it. 

Once she’s back on her feet, she balances on one foot and lightly swings the lower half of her injured leg back and forth. The joint pops back into place, drawing a faint wince on her behalf. “Asshole.”

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me, minx.” 

Y/N regains her combat stance, shuffling back a step or so for a better range of motion. “Call it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a minute to—”

“Call it.”

The second round goes much better. 

She takes off at a running start, pulsing herself off the ground about two feet, coming down onto Harry with her forearms crossed. She’s met with a mirror of her gesture as Harry allows her full weight to sink against his arms and then uses the momentum against her. He pushes up and forward, feeling the force leave his muscles as Y/N flies back. She lands crouched low on her feet, not phased at all. One of her palms juts down against the mattress for stability as she swings out her left leg in one quick motion, ankle colliding with Harry’s. 

He teeters backwards a bit, but manages to preserve his footing. 

Y/N lunges again, a punch hitting him square in the stomach. The feeling of finally pulling one on him swells here confidence. She follows with an intricate set of moves, aiming each jab at specific pressure points that should shock her opponent’s nerves just enough to grant her a window of opportunity for a total knock out. One aimed at his left hip, which throws his torso sideways. Another at the other side, higher up, concentrated between his second and third ribs. He blocks it with his wrist, but Y/N doesn’t let it distract her this time. Her mind is racing, eyes darting back and forth across Harry’s body, analyzing it for weak links and connecting it to the technique layout in her mind. 

Y/N knows that fighting has to do with impulse just as much as training, and she knows the brain finds comfort in patterns. Lower left hip, the center of the ribcage on the opposite side, meaning that instincts expect her to strike somewhere on his left side again. This is exactly why she does the contrary, slamming her palm against Harry’s right shoulder and smirking to herself when, out of her peripheral vision, she glimpses him trying to protect his left. The impact sends him jarring backwards.

Her knee zones in on his abdomen, though he manages to block it with his conjoined fingers, catapulting her heel towards the ground. She advances forward with two quick punches between his pectoral muscles and then one straight for his jaw, which he manages to evade by ducking his head sideways. Harry returns her jaw punch with one of his own and she just barely skims by unscathed, dropping towards the floor onto her belly and slipping between her boyfriend’s parted legs. She flips onto her back, pulling her legs against her chest and then jutting her heels upwards with all her might. Harry’s ass takes the heat.

He’s launched forward, stumbling a few feet and saving himself with the pads of his extended fingers against the mat. He reels around to face Y/N (who has already recovered her footing) with an expression of shocked amusement at her target, which Y/N returns with a coy shrug of her brows. 

“You quite literally just kicked my ass.”

“And I quite literally enjoyed it.”

She barrels towards him and he comes to the conclusion that it seems he underestimated her.

Harry waits until the distance between them is dangerously short and then dives to the right, his tank top rustling as she attempts to brake her trajectory. He slams his forearm flat across her upper back and then follows it up with a repeat on the lower half, but with his elbow. Y/N’s body arcs, absorbing the brutal force of the blows and processing what to do next. Harry takes this chance to fling himself onto her, arms snaking around her and gluing her arms to her sides. His girlfriend tries to break free by rending from side to side, but as soon as she realizes it’s useless, she switches tactics. Y/N sprints upwards, Harry’s body leaning back to accommodate. 

Instead of landing on her feet, she allows herself to fall onto her knees on the mat, ignoring the cold shot of pain that ices the joints. She then swings her upper-body forward, tumbling across the ground with Harry in tow. She ends up on top of him, his arms still clamped around her but lose enough that she can get a dig in with her elbows. There’s a crack on impact. 

Harry grunts in pained alarm, releasing her out of instinct. She rolls off him onto her stomach, pushing herself up to get her legs propped on each side of his thighs. She grabs his wrists, ramming them against the safety cushion. He struggles for a hot minute, twisting, turning, and bucking to fight her off, but eventually gives up. She’s too well calibrated to budge. 

Instead, he allows his head to fall back onto the mat, emitting a low, achy groan that slowly molds into an impressed chuckle. “Fuck, that hurt.”

Y/N’s breathing is ragged, her brows itchy with sweat and eyes stinging. Most of her hair has found its was out of the carefully-crafted ponytail she’d pulled it into, tickling down her jaw and across her glistening cheekbones. “It was meant to.”

His fingers dissolve from the tight fists they were bound in, tapping against the plastic covering beneath them. His tongue swipes over his chapped lips as the edges coil into a sly, lascivious simper. “But you gotta admit, this is pretty hot."

Y/N tries to ignore the way he shifts his hips between her thighs, attempting to pray away the fact that his jogging shorts are made of a sports material so thin she can feel the chiseling of his pelvis beneath them. Her voice comes out throaty and slightly quivering, defeating any authority she’d inclined for it to carry. “Stop that.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise questioningly, expression one of fake clueless innocence as he pouts his lips in a mystified frown. “Stop what?”

His eyes dash down to where their bodies meet, then back up to meet her furrowed-brow glare. His hips begin to rub up against her harder.

“Cut it out.”

Harry softens his irises into a watery, pleading facade, quivering his lower lip dramatically. “But I’m getting close.”

“Idiot.” Y/N grumbles, dismounting now that it has been well over three seconds.

He carefully sits up, one hand resting along the area of his wounded ribs to ease them back into place (it’s a literal pain when things settle incorrectly— requires him having to rebreak the parts so they recover accordingly), the other palm propped flat on the floor behind him to help keep upright as everything heals. A warm surge undulates through his fractured bones and he can feel the pieces mending back together. 

Y/N is already at the edge of the practice mat, combing her hair neatly back from her face and tying it off tighter than before to ensure it doesn’t get in the way. It’s a simple action with no meaning behind it at all, but somehow, Harry finds it infuriatingly endearing. Her perfectionism is peeking through, obvious in the way she releases a soft exasperated growl when a few rebellious strands dance across her eyes. She takes down the entire do, raking her fingers through her locks once again (with a slight vengeance) and looping the neon tie-dye scrunchie around them with annoyed finality. Her hair obliges this time. 

She leans down and scoops the bo staffs into her palms, giving Harry’s one last fascinated once-over before rolling it across the ground in his direction. It thuds to a halt at his outer thigh, a muted holographic glint tennising between all the pretty jewels encapsulated in the tempered midnight glass. Harry wiggles his digits underneath his weapon, rolling it comfortably back and forth before using it to brace himself into a standing position. He hoists himself up with a strained grunt (not necessarily because it hurts, but moreso to guilt Y/N a tad for the hell of it) and twists his torso from side to side to make sure all the nuts and bolts have sifted into gear. 

He contemplates his girlfriend with a slow, conceited blink and the unmistakable twitch of his plump lips, the entire regard coated thick with shit-eating smugness. She avoids his gaze by glancing down at one of the ridges in the mat, willing her eyes to keep from flaring. 

The intense moment passes, Harry’s voice breaking through the atmosphere with a jesting complaint. “You broke a few ribs.”

She glimpses back up at him from under her lashes, taking in his casual demeanor as he leans against the pole easily, resting it snugly in the divet along the inside of his elbow. “And you dislocated my knee. Let’s call it even.” 

He runs his teeth across the length of his lower lip, pursing it and pairing the action with a thoughtful purr. “Fair enough.” 

Harry cocks his chin upwards, uncurling his index finger from the staff and making a come-ether motion. 

Y/N shuffles towards him, squeezing her rod anxiously. She stops about three feet in front of him, squaring her shoulders in order to mimic his nonchalant attitude. She’s well aware of the mental manipulation that goes into phasing out your opponent and she wants to let Harry know it won’t work on her.

He mulls her over for a second, then his mouth curves into a lopsided grin, dimples winking awake. ��Last round, same rules.”

He holds out his bo staff before him for indication, both hands spaced evenly across the expanse. He taps the very center with his right thumb. “See that fine little line?” 

Y/N studies the crevice he’s signifying. “Yeah?”

In one swift, harsh motion, Harry slams the combat stick down against his knee and Y/N can’t help but jump at the abruptness. The pole snaps cleanly in two, her boyfriend holding up either pieces and shaking them lightly in the air. He goes about his explanation without a hitch. “You can split it into two.”

Y/N looks down at her own tool, running her thumbs down its waxy wooden surface until she feels the crease he’s referring to. “Got it.”

Harry reconnects the two halves, spinning the entire five foot staff over his hand, around his wrist, and finally into default combat position. It rests parallel against his hip, the top half diagonal to his stomach, both of his hands gripping it tightly. He bends down a few inches, feet planted expertly to distribute his weight evenly as he shrugs his brows knowingly. “You better start thinking of a good song to strip to.” 

Y/N assumes her own fighting stance, copying his but with her pole on the opposite side, its mass strangely comforting against the curve of her waist. “And you better get ready to clean Hemmy’s litter box for the next month.” 

The final round lasts longer than the first two and both combatants have multiple close calls, but one eventually comes up victor. Harry was the first to initiate this time. 

He had pounced, reeling his bo staff back and bringing it down towards Y/N at full velocity. The crack of the two sticks colliding scatters loudly along the walls of the apartment. 

Y/N isn’t a fan of staff technique fighting. She favors hand-to-hand, simply because there’s a stronger confidence in having direct skin contact with one’s combatant, as well as having the fighting constricted to close quarters. Closer engagement ensures that there will be no surprise attacks from anywhere, where as with the poles, the length of the weapon can’t be focused on all at once. She could be hit on the shoulder one second and have her feet taken out not even an inhale later. It requires quicker, keen impulses and rigid, acute blows. The combinations of attacks are endless and unpredictable until a heartbeat before they happen, and it demands a defense that is also an offense, so there is no time at all to pause and recoup. Not to mention the fact that the material of the staffs is cruelly solid, so impact packs five times the pain of a regular fist. 

It’s because of all of this— because of all of the limiting factors she’d encountered with this style of sport— that she had willed herself to become so good at it. It was what she practiced most whenever she sparred back home; she refuses to allow herself to be weak when it comes to protecting everything she’s ever known. Hatred is a valid catalyst for exceeding, and as much as she hates these stupid sticks, exceeding ranks higher in her priorities and it’s paid off in the long-run.

On the other end of the spectrum is Harry. He loves bo staff combat. Thrives in it. It was the form of battle that he picked up the quickest during his training and he favors it over everything else (except maybe blades). During his time in Hell, he knew nothing but agonizing anguish for fifty years. Nothing but continuous torture and abuse that seemed to rip his being to shreds, only for it to be sewn back together and demolished all over again. Once he did his time and was released from the punishment wing, he was less than ready to face all of the emotions that had been forcibly shoved to the back of his mind by the animalistic instinct to survive and persevere.

Fighting was the one place he could let it all out simultaneously, both the emotional and physical turmoil, and put to test the resilience he had gained. He excelled in all forms of hand-to-hand combat and breezed by knife-throwing as if he’d done it all his life, but bo staff warfare provided the challenge of soliciting coarse, brutal techniques with fine-tuned precision, grating accuracy, and accelerated speed responses. It was the perfect cocktail of exertion he needed to work through most of the shit he had been through, all while gaining him a name within the new community he was destined to join. He never personally saw it occur (or maybe he just doesn’t recall it considering specific instances from that time tend to blur together), but people tell him word got around enough that Lucifer himself came to watch one of his matches. 

All in all, the array of details is a way of emphasizing that this round was meant to be his even before it started. However, his confidence begins to shake as they escalate further into the fighting. 

Y/N is good— incredible, actually. Her technique, her timing, her strength and agility, the way she flows through her movements in such a graceful yet cut-throat manner. It all shows she’s had extensive experience in this field and she’s not holding back on showing it off. Every one of his attacks is met with a perfect counter and every one of his defenses is met with an assault of the same caliber. She looks amazing holding her own, brows cinched in extreme concentration and muscles taut as inhuman strength courses through them like a current. Her footwork is excellent, supporting her every motion with flawless balance, delivering strike after strike without a moment of hesitation. 

Harry has never met anyone he could confidently say leveled him in skill, and as cheesy and sappy and idiotic as it sounds, he thinks he’s finally found his match. If he wasn’t in love before, he’s mostly definitely neck-deep in it now.  

He’s lucky he’s practiced enough to multitask or else his dwellings would’ve gotten him knocked on his ass by now. His body had gone into a type of automated combat mode that relied purely on pattern experience and muscle memory, his mind focused partially on the sparring and partially on his thoughts. Harry manages to fully zone back into reality just in time to block an advance at his jaw. The obsidian glass of his pole clacks forcefully against the smoothed red oak of Y/N’s, mere centimeters from his face. 

He goes cross-eyed to look at the staff and then looks past it to the assailant wielding it. “Did you really have to go for the face?”  

Y/N doesn’t respond, yanking her staff back and swinging it downwards towards his ankles, which he intercepts in a blur of glittering jewels. He twists her combat stick around his, attempting to force her into releasing it. She does, letting it fall from her left hand into her right, pulling it out from its cage and spinning her entire body, packing the motion with as much momentum as possible and aiming it for the middle of Harry’s torso. He just barely meets her blow, saving himself from getting the other side of his ribcage broken. Y/N pivots on her heel again, this time aiming for the junction between his neck and shoulder. It’s a sensitive point and should cripple him enough to get him down. 

Harry ducks, slamming the top half of his bo staff against his girlfriend’s stomach, hearing her exclaim on impact. He isn’t even able to celebrate finally getting in a hit because the next thing he knows, a searing ache ruptures across the top of his skull. His vision blurs into a dark red, the edges of his sight vignetting between purple and black. He drops to his hand and knees, ears ringing and teeth going numb. 

The room is spinning and he feels like he might throw up, but he’s stubborn. He rolls sideways on the mat, stopping on his stomach and clumsily hobbling up onto his feet. He blindly extends his staff before him as a defense mechanism, blinking rapidly in an attempt to dissolve the red from his surroundings. He’s faced worse, and frankly, he deserves it after the way he crippled her in the first round. 

Through the hazy curtain washing over his mind, he’s able to focus in on Y/N, who is edging towards him carefully with her pole poised. He works his injury to his angle, pretending to be worse off than he actually is by shaking his head as if trying to regain his bearings. When Y/N is within jumping distance, he launches, taking her by surprise and smacking along the lower half of her sternum. She staggers back, using her pole to keep from tripping, leaving her unprotected. His combat stick finds its way into the left side of her waist, causing her to bend over at the force. Harry steps past her, looking over his shoulder and getting an idea. 

The weapon comes down flat, swatting Y/N right across her backside. 

She yelps out in angered alarm, hands flying to her throbbing bum as she jumps forward a couple of feet, whizzing around with indignation pinching her face. Harry’s eyes flit black as he sticks his tongue out in an open-mouthed smirk, wagging his head tauntingly.

An infuriated snarl rumbles in the back of Y/N’s throat, her limbs acting out of their own accord. She unclasps the two halves of her combat stick over her knee as Harry had before, the ring of color that hugs her irises illuminating itself with a blinding celeste hue. 

He just can’t keep the stereotypical asshole comment to himself, uttering it through a provoking simper. “You look hot when you’re mad.” 

When her next swing comes down, it easily packs the strength of a hundred men. 

Y/N advances on Harry with no remorse, her hits strong and curt, clean-cut and precise. She’s getting in consistent blows now that she has more ammunition, bruising his left shoulder and swelling his right thigh. Her two halves come down at him at once, concentrated toward his chest, and he intercepts with the center of his pole. The brunt of the clash fulfills the purpose Harry had intended, snapping his single staff into its secondary form. 

He twirls each twin piece over the back of his hand, feeling them settle into his cupped fingers snugly. “That’s more like it.” 

They go back and forth for what Harry dubs to be about a minute or two, the sharp clacking of the surfaces biting into the sweat-tinged air. He’s thankful bruises heal almost immediately after inflected or else he’d be purple and blue from head to toe. He’s growing bored and achey of the round, well aware of the fact that since Y/N equals him in skill, the match could go on for hours and he has to work in less than three. 

Not to mention, he hasn’t even had breakfast yet and he can practically hear an omelette calling his name. Maybe with some French toast and homemade lemonade...Fuck, that’d be perfect. 

He still has to take Onyx and Nimbus out for a their daily morning lap around the park nearby. He has to get there early lest he run into that fitness coach with the annoying Doberman that has some weird grudge against his dogs. And now that he recalls, he owes Dylan a coffee for that bet he’d lost over one of his trainees losing a match to another. That’d take at least ten minutes considering how busy Starbucks is in the morning, and that doesn’t include how long it takes them to make the drink due to Dylan’s peculiar (and annoyingly moronic) tastes.

Harry’s daydreaming is what teeters the fight into its end. His lack of focus leads him into making a mistake that is theatrically ironic. 

After deflecting a hit to his jugular, he groups both ends of his pole above his head, bringing them down towards his girlfriend without any real target other than to just plant a hit somewhere. He knew she would block it and he figured he’d use that millisecond window to slam her backward, hopefully with enough give to render her onto her rear. 

However, that is not how it goes down at all.

Instead of hindering the collision with the flat side of both her rungs, Y/N crosses her forearms diagonally before her, both of Harry’s wrists ending up wedged between them. It’s the same exact move he’d used on her to win the first round. 

Y/N quirks her eyebrows up at her opponent mockingly, voice thick with sarcastically satisfied amusement. “Oops.”

She swiftly rotates her arms clockwise, Harry’s trapped wrists following suit and twisting his arms roughly sideways. This gives Y/N the perfect way in, using the butt of one of her rods and striking it across his cheekbone. Harry staggers back, flailing his weapons loosely as he tries to keep from collapsing. Y/N dives forward, her staffs connecting with the back of Harry’s hands, forcing him to release his tools out of nerve-induced impulse. 

After she’s disarmed him, she directs a flat-footed kick to his abdomen, right between his ferns tattoos. The strength behind the gesture sends a vibration up the knobs of her bones, so she can only imagine how it must’ve felt to him. Harry’s feet leave the ground unintentionally for the first time during the entire match as he flies back, the nearest wall so kindly cushioning his fall. He slides down the surface, the matte paint burning the skin of his elbows until his body settles onto the mat. He immediately attempts to regain his footing, but is stopped short on his knees.

The end of a combat stick hovers a few inches in front of his nose, a sweaty, heavy-breathed Y/N looming down upon him from behind it, eyes gleaming— literally— with cocksure victory. “Stay down unless you want a matching bruise on the other side of your face.” 

Harry’s chest shallowly heaves a count of three, then his eyes string upwards from the circular flat face of the bo staff to lock with his girlfriend’s. He teeths the corner of his bottom lip as it jolts with the ghost of an aroused, awed simper. “I quite enjoy being on my knees, anyways.”

Y/N’s pole rattles against the ground.

She keens over, palms resting on her knees as she gulps down air like she can’t get enough of it. Harry sits back on his heels, back flushed with the wall to support himself, head thunking against it hollowly. He hasn’t felt this exhausted since his first ever training session all those centuries back. 

Sweat mazes its way down his throbbing temples and across the veins chiseled into his neck, following the curve of his collarbones and tickling its way down the valley of his chest. All he can get out is a low, scratchy, “Fucking hell...” and his throat goes sore with the effort. 

Y/N throws her head back in fatigue, groaning softly as every muscle in her body complains at the motion. A weak, giddy smile dances its way across her warm cheeks. “I won.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, wincing lightly as the movement irritates the fracture he knows is running the length of his cheekbone. “Give credit where it’s due. That final move was mine, so you’re welcome.” 

He sticks out his hand as a post-fight symbol of good will, wiggling his fingers when she stares at it cautiously. “C’mon, I won’t bite. No dirty play, remember?”

Y/N takes Harry’s hand and the conjoined pair shake out a final truce. She then rests down onto her knees, crawling across the mat to take the spot beside him. As her back nests again the wall, she feels a mixture of both relief and disgust. Relief because the surface is nice and cool, which works wonders for her overheating body. Disgust because the wall flattens her t-shirt against her skin and she can feel the cotton soaking up all the sweat as it sticks to her like glue. 

She lulls her head over to Harry, who is dabbing at the big green and purple shiner that she’d slashed across his face. Now that the fight is over and her brain has gradually waned off of the cruel adrenalin that had been fueling her strength, guilt starts settling in. “Sorry about that.” 

Harry cranes his neck in her direction, gifting her a tender smile that she knows probably hurts. “S’okay, it’s already healing. Plus, I had a good time. Was fun.”

Y/N playfully bumps his shoulder with her own. “Not as fun as it’s gonna be to watch you clean up cat feces for the next month.” 

“Still can’t believe that’s what you chose.” Harry mumbles, reaching up and releasing his damp curls from the tiny ponytail atop his head, slipping the hair-tie over his wrist and shaking out his stringy locks.

Y/N rolls her eyes dismissively. “I’m sorry I’m not constantly thinking about filth like you do. Some of us have control.” 

One of Harry’s eyebrows jumps up challengingly. “Oh? You have control, y’say?” 

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then, I guess you won’t mind.”

He proceeds to grab the back of his drenched muscle tank, yanking it over his head and balling it up into a crumpled mess, using it wipe down his face. 

Y/N shrugs without worry. “Go ahead. I’ve seen you without your shirt plenty of times.”

“Yeah, you have. But...” His hands trails along the ground in the space that lays between them, his index finger tracing along her left outer thigh. “It’s different when I’m covered in sweat, muscles all tight right after a workout.”

Y/N hesitantly glances over at Harry, taking in the way his strong, thick chest is rising and falling rhythmically, glistening with a sheen of water that makes his lightly tanned skin look like gold porcelain. The ink stains ripples as his tendons contract and release, biceps flexing temptingly. 

Y/N swallows down the dryness in her throat, running the back of her wrist along the pearls of sweat itching her brows. “Makes no difference to me.”

Harry looks down upon her from over his shoulder, eyes flickering black for a second, her reflection painted across the glass-like surface of the dark hue. “Then why are you ogling?”

She scoffs incredulously, but can’t stop herself from looking away in embarrassment. Her voice is a begrudging grumble. “I wasn’t ogling.” 

“Right. You were just staring profusely. My mistake.” 

“Dickhead.”

Harry’s tongue glosses over his front teeth, pressing against the inside of his cheek, his expression one of pompous entertainment at being able to get her so flustered. He scoots a bit closer to her until their legs are touching, leaning forward to try and catch her attention. “For what it’s worth, I was doing my fair share of ogling, too.”  

The comment is enough to fish her consideration. 

Y/N’s vision flits to him, full of confused curiosity. “When? I’ve been fully dressed the whole time?”

Harry sways his head at her incorrect assumption, hand sneaking its way fully onto her leg. “It has nothing to do with nudity, though I won’t object if you decide to go that route.”

She ignores his suggestion. “Then what is it?”

The pads of his digits dig into the suppleness of her thigh, squeezing once testingly, tingling with glee when she doesn’t swat him away. “When you we were fighting just now. Your skills are incredible.” 

Y/N blinks at him blankly. “What part of me looking sweaty and busted was attractive to you?” 

Harry’s forefinger maps his name over her clothed skin, the cursive big and loopy, gentle and feathery. “The part where you showed such confident ease and deadly perfection.”

He halts the tip of his finger halfway through his last name, right at the curve of the Y. His tone carries a reflective hazy fondness. “It was so fucking beautiful.” 

Y/N is intrigued in the way Harry can conjure something so outlandish as charming, but she can understand why he’d enjoy it. Demons have a warped sense of beauty. She finds herself pushing for more details, her interest wandering. “What was beautiful about it?”

His clouded jade irises meet her’s, appearing soft and admiring. “Everything. The way you moved with elegant delicacy, but somehow still made every hit dangerous. You hold your own really well, and that’s meaningful coming from me. Gotta love a girl who can beat your ass.”

Y/N laughs airily. “Yeah, I suppose.” 

Harry absentmindedly reaches up, cupping her chin between his thumb and index finger, rubbing over the faint dimple endearingly. The way he’s staring at her lips hungrily makes them buzz. “Fuck, I wish you could’ve seen yourself. It was so hot.”

She swallows thickly, her eyes glimpsing anxiously between his mouth and eyes, voice full of innocent wonder. “It was?”

Harry’s gaze flirts over the dip of the crescent along her upper lip, both of his own parting open smidge at the way the light hits its peaks alluringly. “Yeah, it was. Wanted to just drop to my knees right then and have you ride my face.”

Y/N’s breathing catches in her throat, thighs clenching unintentionally. 

His Cupid’s bow feathers over her’s, their foreheads knocking softly. The mood has shifted drastically, the air seeming to solidify inside her lungs as Harry’s low, melodic thrum of a voice paints itself with needy awe. “Wanted to just spread you out on this mat with my face between your thighs and your hands tangled in my hair. To feel you drip down my chin and wet the tops of my cheeks.” 

“Harry...” 

The word comes out as a desperate croak, begging him for something, though he’s not sure what. It can either be for him to stop, or for him to explicitly keep going. “Are you sure you don’t want to tie anything else into that prize?”

Y/N sighs shakily through her nose, eyelids drooping shut at the tension weighing in the atmosphere of the room. “Don’t tempt me.”

The snicker Harry releases is the ideal ratio of boyish giggle and arrogant chuckle. “M’afraid I have to. It’s kinda my profession and all.”

She wants to say no— wants to uphold the statement she had made about being modest enough not to include raunchiness into everything they do. Wants keep herself from giving in when she was always taught to fight off mindless desires. 

She tries to search for anything to put a halt to her deteriorating control. “Don’t you have a ton of stuff to do before you leave for work? Like breakfast and handling the dogs?”

The breath of his words is warm and gooey as it rolls over the fizzling skin of her lips. “I can grab something on the way, and Onyx and Nimbus can walk themselves. I just go to keep up appearances.” 

“In that case, it’s probably not a good idea to let them walk themselves, is it?”

Harry grabs Y/N by the collar of her borrowed tee, the sweaty fabric crinkling as he tugs her into a deep, wet kiss that is made up of desperate little whines and breathy whimpers. He murmurs into her mouth, his two front teeth claiming the center of her bottom lip. “You go with them later, then. Problem solved.” 

She tries to pull back (despite every fiber of her being telling her not to), fabricating any excuse that comes to mind. “They hate me.”

He yanks her back in, noses bumping as his tongue works to convince her. “No they don’t.”

Her strong will proceeds despite the prickling creeping down her neck and across her temples. “Yes they do.”

“Well, I don’t hate you and at the end of the day, isn’t that what matters?”

“That has absolutely nothing to do with—”

Y/N’s counter is cut short by Harry using his hold to swiftly jerk her into his lap, maneuvering her accordingly, her heels pressing into the sides of his calves as she straddles his thighs. He slides her forward until the close proximity forces her to balance onto her knees at either sides of his hips, his face level with her navel. His head rests back against the wall, eyes drunk on the way she’s perched above him, looking down over her burning cheeks. He wastes no time in putting their position into to good use, fingers perching at her waist and beginning to fiddle with the zipper of the compression shorts he’d lent her. 

“What about—”

“Why don’t you be a good girl and stay quiet.” He murmurs lowky, dragging the zipper all the way down and working on easing the nylon material down her sticky thighs, placing a slow, drawn-out peck to the swell of each hip. In all his decades of life, he’s well learned that it’s the subtle touches that work the biggest wonders.

“But—”

His lips smooth over her twitching tummy, biting it teasingly while his mouth moves over her heated skin as he forms his words, voice heavy and deep. “I said quiet, didn’t I?” 

Her panties are at full access now, the hem of the sports leggings resting right below the curve of her bum, and Harry can’t stop himself from smirking coyly at her choice of daisy and sunflower print. He stretches his neck, sticking out his tongue and giving a long lap at her over the underwear, the edges of his mouth carving upwards as he feels a hot flush of sudden dampness pool at the area over her clit. He glances up at her from beneath his long lashes, eyes electric with self-assured delight as he hums appreciatively in the back of his throat.  

Y/N’s fingers find their way into his tousled curls, holding his head between her thighs as she digs into his scalp, her sentences lodging in her throat. “We can’t— we shouldn’t. Y-You’ll be late for work and—”

Harry gives her another drawn out lick over the garment, flirting the tip of his tongue over the swollen little bud that lies at the thick of her crotch, savoring the way she shudders and writhes. His hands have migrated to grip her ass, keeping her in place as his face moves from side to side, tongue sloppily toying with her cunt and causing her to utterly ruin her favorite pair of undies.

“H-Harry, please. You’ll get in trouble—”

“For fuck’s sake, just shut up and let me make you cum.” 

[dinosaurs-last-day]

A writing prompt you say? I have many, friend. May I order some Dukeceit, with a side of The power goes out and Janus learns that Remus's freckles glow in the dark? (Some octopi have glowy spots in the dark, which is the inspo for this btw) Feel free to deny the request obviously i'm not gonna force you lol! Hope you get all the asks you could want!

Ofc Nonnie! Sorry that this is a little late!

___________

Date night for Janus and Remus could mean literally anything. Dinner or dancing were common, and robbing a bank together was always an option. (They hadn’t actually robbed a bank together yet, but it was discussed a lot. As Remus liked to say, “There’s just something so romantic about threatening to hurt someone with your boyfriend.”) 

That night, Remus had suggested a horror movie that had recently come out and Janus was more than willing to spend the evening curled up on the couch, cuddling his boyfriend. The glow of the tv lit up Remus’ face as Janus played with Remus’ mustache. He liked to twirl it gently and smile when Remus would giggle from the feeling. 

Another thing about Remus that Janus loved were his freckles. The little dots splattered all over his face, shoulders, and arms, telling stories of adventures in the sun. Janus liked to trace little shapes with the freckles, almost as if he were playing connect the dots. Just absentmindedly touching Remus, admiring him. Remus didn’t mind, especially when they were watching a movie. Remus would stare at the screen, soaking up every gory detail, and Janus would just admire him. 

A scream rang through the house, thankfully coming from the tv. But halfway through the scream, the tv cut out. Janus noticed that the room was now completely dark and he shut his eyes tightly. He would never admit it, but he was afraid of the dark, afraid of what could be in it, and what could hurt him when he couldn’t see. He knew it wasn’t a rational fear, but it was a fear he dealt with regardless. He heard Remus get off the couch, probably to check on the tv. 

“I think the power is out Janny,” Remus said, plopping back down next to Janus on the couch. Janus, with his eyes still closed, wrapped himself around Remus’ torso, holding him close. He felt Remus’ fingers run through his hair, felt Remus’ lips meet his forehead. 

“You can open your eyes baby, it’s fine.” Janus opened his eyes, expecting to be met with complete darkness. But there was a small hint of light, a faint glow. Janus looked over at Remus and noticed that each and every one of his freckles glowed a light neon green, the only source of light in the house.

Janus touched Remus’ cheek with his hand, running a finger over some of the freckles. “How?” 

Remus shrugged. “Some octopi have glow in the dark spots. Since I have a thing for octopi and have taken on some of their more subtle traits, my freckles glow as if I were an octopus.” Janus admired the freckles, his obsession with them growing stronger now that he knew they possessed such a cool and useful skill. 

“Well, I don’t think that they are the most adorable thing ever,” Janus muttered, continuing to trace the glowing freckles with his finger.

Remus clicked his tongue. “You’re going soft on me,” he teased. Janus mumbled a half-hearted shut up, but Remus didn’t hear it. 

“Well, you may think a couple of freckles are cute, but I think you’re absolutely a catch all on your own. And you don’t even have freckles!” Janus’ face was now a bright shade of red, and an uncomfortably warm temperature from all the blood that was rushing to his cheeks but it was too dark for Remus to notice. 

They sat there in the dark, Remus holding Janus, playing with his hair, while Janus was wrapped around Remus, focused on the glowing freckles. Neither one of them knew how much time had passed until the power turned back on, but Janus was very thankful when it did. Logan came down the stairs to make sure that everyone was okay.

“Yeah, thankfully Remus has his glowing freckles,” Janus muttered. Logan’s eyes widened. 

“Glowing freckles?” He asked. Remus quickly explained and it within seconds Logan was up in Remus’ personal space, studying the freckles and asking questions. Janus pushed him away.

“Hey, no studying or testing my boyfriend! Get your own glowing boyfriend to be your science project!” He said, wrapping an arm around Remus’ waist protectively, although Logan did not seem to notice. Logan went back up the stairs defeatedly, disappointed that he didn’t learn all he wanted from the glowing freckles. 

Remus chuckles. “Jealous Jan?” He asked. Janus leaned up and kissed a freckle on the tip of Remus’ nose before planting a gentle kiss against his lips. 

“Just protective of my boyfriend, and the freckles that saved me.” 

[mooberg]

Among the Statues

Chapter 6: Hammer on Stone

I’m gonna try and not make updating this story a yearly thing, I swear.

The lvc belongs to @voiceoflarka​

Word count: 2291

Warnings: None

Enjoy!

Purple light splashed across Horns’ face as he gazed steadily out the window. His senses were on high alert for anything flying through the sky as he counted raindrops falling past the bright neon. Gamma and Psi were still out, but no one could be sure Dragon couldn’t find this place. The team slept about the safehouse, exhausted from worry while he stayed wide awake from the same.

“How powerful you must be, my little psychic…”

Dragon’s words echoed in his mind, cloudy in their intent. Clearly there was some darker interest there, and he doubted it was present before she froze the world. But what did she want, truly? He felt certain in the assumption her wishes had shifted upon their introduction, and her intensity toward him was worrisome; more than he wanted to let on. The team was worried enough, this was just part of it all. Having to consider additional motivations of a person who’s actions were already irredeemable was just going to add more stress. Was he being stupid? Probably. But they were aware enough of the situation and so he chose not to complicate things with his emotions. Well, more than normal anyway.

He took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as his eyes shifted briefly out of focus, his mind doing the same. Worry was tiresome on a mind already stretched thin from recent events. His body was alert, but his focus wavered. The sound of the rain lulled him deeper and deeper into trance…

Flashes. Bursts of light. A mansion. Then a forest. A courtyard covered in shards stained each colour of the rainbow. Eight viruses stood at the entrance in shock. A field of picnickers. A broken tree branch just barely pulled out of the way. Flashes of white. A feeling of doing good. Flashes. Helping. Flashes. “Stop her”. More flashes. A convention hall. Solaris Amphitheatre. “Go…” echoing in his mind as everything slowly faded to black…

Horns pulled out of his trance with a jolt and a gasp, shaking his head as his vision returned. He glanced around quickly, panic abating as he took stock of his team around him, safe and sound. He whipped out his phone, typing a quick text.

“Need you back ASAP

We have a lead.”

 ~~*~~

 “The amphitheatre’s packed, guys. The Colors of the Wind Art Festival was this weekend and it attracted hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. Viruses from all over Dashland, maybe even beyond. Honestly, it’s kind of a miracle she didn’t hit here first, I can’t see another cluster of people quite this big anywhere in the Capitol.” Callow’s voice deep in their ear informed. The earpiece struggled to be heard over the whipping wind and thundering motors.

Horns thanked every being he could think of that Glitch was a good driver as they sped down the centre of the road. Cars whooshed past on either side of them at a solid 120 kilometers, and he just held on for dear life behind her.

“With her powers, she could wipe them out in seconds.” Glitch said, swerving around a car frozen in a lane change. “We… can’t have that again.”

“She’s going to come after me when she sees us.” Horns added. “This stopped being about frozen viruses the minute someone resisted her spell. Let me draw her out.”

“You better be careful.” Gamma’s response came quickly, and not without trepidation.

A conflicted silence hung on the line as the tall buildings of Lower Dashland Proper fell away to low, manicured trees and green fields. The Dashland convention grounds sprawled out before them. Bordered on three of four sides with downtown roads, the grounds were located a few kilometers off from the city centre and hosted most major events held in the region each year. The amphitheatre was an architectural feat, the large glass and wood dome towering over the stage and most of the ringed seating. Its façade was designed to match the three other convention buildings dotted throughout the parkland. Dozens of vendor stalls and food trucks had been gathered on the northern field, where the team had arrived. Glitch brought their motorcycle to a stop next to Callow and Jolly’s just as Gamma landed next to them with the rest of the team.

“Let me scout real quick. Find us a clear place.” They said. “We’re not losing any more lives today.”

“We are more prepared this time than before.” Psi began as Gamma took off. “We know what we’re up against now and we’re here first. Be on your guard and keep communications open. We can do this.”

“I’m gonna try to get her talking.” Horns added. “Figure out what it is she wants out of all this.”

“I mean… you said it yourself.” Jolly said. “She wants you.”

Horns sighed, looking out around the convention grounds lit up in shades of gold with the late afternoon sun. “There’s more to it than that. I know it.”

“Maybe before, but now-”

“The field to the east is the clearest we’re going to get.” Gamma’s voice in their ears cut them all off. “Everyone spread out around the grounds and keep your eyes peeled.”

“Where are you going to go?” Psi asked Horns.

The Satyr hadn’t torn his eyes from the fields through Gamma’s report, falling back on his intuition to guide him, as it had done when it brought him here. “The amphitheatre.” He pointed to the east as he gave Psi a wry smile. “Seems Dragon wants to put on a show.”

His mentor gave him a nod and headed off directly south. Horns took a breath and stepped on to the paved concrete path. Banners hanging from the merchant stalls along the path flapped in the gentle afternoon breeze. Vendors hung out of almost every stall, enticing customers in to buy. Or at least their statues did. Horns stepped around their potential customers dotting the path. He took his time. There was no point in hiding.

He sighed. “Would’ve been a cool festival…”

The grounds opened up to him eventually as he left the stalls behind, as manicured as an open public field could get. Short grass dotted with trees to allow convention-goers to hide from the sun. The amphitheatre lay in the southeast corner, and he stepped onto the grass to beeline straight there. Even from this distance halfway across the field, Horns could see all the souls sheltered within. There they remained, locked in a moment of excitement and celebration now stained with freezing ice. A rainbow of innocents who did not sign up for this chaos.

“Poor guys…” He shook his head. “You didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Nice to see you again,” he reached up and discretely tapped his earpiece on as he turned, knowing without looking what he faced. “Dragon.”

Across the convention grounds, his whole team froze.

“My dear, I’m afraid I cannot return your greeting as you have not given me your name.” She replied.

Horns gave her a quick once over. Her dress had changed to a simple red velvet with fine black lace over top, but the black cloak remained. Her dark brown hair still fell freely about her shoulders, now unburdened from the weight of the rain under which they had first met. And she smiled at him, her glowing dark red eyes regarding him with a complex mix of emotions. Horns decided to take a chance.

“Horns.” He offered.

“Any last name?” She asked.

“Maybe another time.” He gave her a cocky smile.

“Very well.” She sighed not quite out of disappointment. “I assume the others are close by?”

“Close enough.” Horns confirmed. “But it’s just you and me in this field now so let’s talk. What did you mean?”

“In which case, dear?”

“What am I wrong about?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you know that I don’t?”

She gave a haughty laugh. “Oh, my little psychic I wouldn’t say you’re ignorant on the matter, just… prone to forgiveness.”

Horns cocked his head in question.

“I can tell by those horns and those ears that you know as well as I differences are not always tolerated.” She began. “Sure, those in power preach equality and change, but they never seem to follow through, do they? Someone always ends up under someone else’s boot.”

“Keep her talking, Horns. We need to know more.” Gamma came through in his ear.

“It’s more common than people think, that’s for sure.” Horns agreed.

“Not so naive after all, are you?” Dragon grinned, leaning towards him a little. “So tell me child, have you been under someone’s boot?”

“You said you know these horns; you know the answer.” Horns hesitated to continue.

“It’s okay. I know they’re listening.”

He looked around briefly, unable to see any of his team. Then with a sigh, he turned off his earpiece. There were still people close to him in the dark about his true nature, and he’d rather it stayed that way for now. “All my life. There’s never been a moment I felt safe. From ridicule, from harm caused by those who didn’t care, or didn’t even want to know. I was born a Satyr. It’s who I am; I can’t change that. I can’t hide it, and I have tried. So why does that give people the right to push me around?”

“It doesn’t.” Dragon countered. “You do.”

She looked out across the fields and Horns took that moment to quickly turn his earpiece back on.

“You let them walk on you, you place yourself under their boot. You give them permission.”

“So that’s what this is.” Horns connected the dots. “You’re taking back permission.”

“You catch on quick, my little psychic.”

“But not everyone is like that.” Horns countered. “I’ve met good people. People who care about me, about everyone. People out here working themselves to stardust to try and stop you from taking more innocent lives-”

“Innocent?” Dragon scoffed, forcing Horns to step back as she stepped forward. “My dear there are no innocents here. There are the guilty parties, and the ones that do nothing. Well, if they’re going to do nothing, they might as well make me a lovely little statue garden.”

“I… I’ll stop you.” Horns insisted. “Even if I have to wake everyone up all by myself. I won’t let you stomp them down to dust.”

Dragon smiled at him. “I know.”

With a pound of her foot on the paved concrete, pillars of ice erupted from the ground, angled at him. Horns had no time to react before the blow caught his chest full force, sending him flying back and into the air. He shut his eyes against the spiderwebbing pain, curling in on himself to protect his damaged chest for when he hit the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Gamma’s voice cut through the pain as their arms carefully wrapped around him. He opened his eyes to his team starting to attack below him. Psi’s plants snaked their way into the fight and turned the field to chaos as the trainees moved in.

Gamma lowered him to the ground out of the way of the fight. “Stay here.”

They took off before he even got a chance to argue, wings open wide at the top of their flight to fire on Dragon. Psi's vines swooped in as Horns watched and curled around him to shield him from the fight. But he could watch on with mounting worry.

Like last time, the team struggled to land any hits on their opponent. They lined up a modified version of their well practiced barrage attack, using the distracting attack of one person to bring the next closer to their target. The very one that had gotten Horns in close to Psi once. Even if they missed, even if she blocked them, bit by bit they could close in. Dragon was faring well, but the cracks in her defences were beginning to show. Between Gamma's unrelenting laser attacks, Psi's distracting and deadly plants, and the team refusing to let up, Horns could very well see this fight turning in their favour.

But of course, so did Dragon.

Just like last time, Horns watched her preparing to strike. She allowed the team to land some blows and chose to dodge Gamma's attacks instead of blocking them with ice. The small reprieve was just enough to save her enough energy to send them all flying back with a burst of wind and throw up a jagged dome of ice.

Gamma bared down with their lasers, intent on melting through, but Horns knew it would still take too long. He thrashed against the vines' hold on him, panic gripping his chest tighter and blocking out the pain from the movement. He couldn't see them frozen again. He couldn't look down the line of his family and force himself to think strategically about who he could afford to leave frozen, should he not be successful in waking them all. He couldn't do it all again. Not again.

The scream he unleashed in his fear and fury was nothing compared to the mind blast that simultaneously ripped through Dragon's skull. It exhausted him almost immediately. He was barely aware of Gamma breaking through the ice barrier and the sounds of frustration when their adversary was not found inside. He hardly felt the vines slowly lowering him to the ground and releasing their grip, though he did fight his last few inches to freedom. And he didn't pay mind to three familiar statues now present in the open.

He just stayed on his knees where Psi had dropped him and tried to force some energy back into his soul.

[kpopcotton]

Simply Soft ~ NCT 127 ver.

a/n ~ here is the final version of simply soft.. i hope you like it!!

• Prompt: johnny. just johnny. • Genre: platonic fluff, bullet point scenario, nct member!reader  • Warning(s): strong desire to be a part of nct • Reader Gender: gender-neutral

==≎==

Taeil

ok google, what does soft mean?

never have you seen taeil so whipped for someone

always supporting you and looking at you with the biggest heart eyes

haechan pretends to get jealous and petty whenever taeil shows you more attention than him

you have competitions sometimes

but besides that,

you show taeil so much love and he has so much to give in return

he’s not the best at expressing his love, but you know he cares through the little things

like when he cleans up after you 

or gives you firm hugs that last tens of minutes at a time when you aren’t feeling the best

or lets you rest in his bed if you fall asleep during the haechan movie nights you crash

he finds you so precious and never wants to see you sad

his favorite time to hang out with you is right after the two of you get home from a busy day

doesn’t matter what you both did, he’ll make sure to find you at the dorms

most of the time he just gives you the look which means he’s picked out some snacks and is ready when you are

to him, there is nothing better than taking a shower and then inviting you to put on face masks and dance to music

lets you pick the playlist

but, he’s very picky about what kind of music it is

either gives you one of his hoodies or steals one of yours

you both get comfy clothes on

and then apply skincare before picking a face mask and putting them on each other

lots of cute selfies that will never be shared but always treasured

in conclusion, taeil loves relaxing with you

“oh! oh, this is the song! quick, come dance!”

==≎==

Johnny

are you ready for another...

johnny’s communication center?

probably not

you’ve only gotten to appear in one of johnny’s youtube videos which was like a 40-second debut

rip y/n

however, contrary to popular belief, you do spend time with him

he’s like the best big brother in the world, even if he’s younger than you

brings you to clothing stores, coffee shops, bookstores, ikea

any place you can buy things really

his favorite places to go with you are clothing stores

forces you to try on clothes that are in his style just to see how they look on you

whines when you try to get him to wear your style of clothing

says your fashion sense is terrible and sad

but wears the clothes anyway to see your reaction

loves seeing you smile

sometimes you go through johnny’s fashion evaluation

either horrendous combinations or luxury styles

there is no in-between

in the case of horrendous combinations (which happened at a thrift store in chicago):

he had you put on a sparkly rainbow bikini top that left little to the imagination, khakis, a lumberjack flannel around your neck, a bandana around your head, sunglasses that had to be at the tip of your nose, and thigh-high, high heeled boots

you had never felt more out of place and uncomfortable in your life

but johnny loved it every second of it

you made sure to get him back though

you gave him a neon blue lacy bralette, a puke green and brown sweater that you forced him to tie into a crop top, jean shorts that were too short with leggings underneath, knee-high socks with laces pulled over the leggings, and strappy sandals

he pretended to model the outfit for you confidently but his bright red neck and cheeks gave it away that he was embarrassed

in the case of luxury items (which was in some uptown, expensive store in japan):

johnny somehow managed to pick out an outfit that accentuated all of your best features with a color that made you feel confident and sexy

you felt you had never looked better

you returned the favor of course and gave him a suit that was definitely a perfect fit and it was obviously red because when does johnny not look good in red

“damn, y/n, look at us! we are the visuals of nct no doubt!”

==≎==

Taeyong

duality.

never have you seen a more confusing duo in kpop history

aeygo to the maxxxx

charisma to that maxxxx

it’s like a metronome how fast you two change when you’re together

the power.

neither soft stans nor hard stans can handle it

the twitter timeline is a dangerous place

fans could be cooing at you both and having heart pains while commenting about how babie you two are

but then die because the next picture is you in all black with a harness doing a questionably 18+ pose with taeyong who’s probably got his signature crop top on

n e ways, let us move on

taeyong adores you so much and it honestly makes him so flustered when you spend time with him

he loves, loves, loves when you take him out

he doesn’t leave the dorm much unless it’s for work

invite him to join you anywhere and he’ll instantly agree with so much enthusiasm, it’ll make you want to give him the world (though he deserves it)

he enjoys the little things

like walking down the street and bumping shoulders every so often while you guys talk about your days

or holding hands while crossing the street to make sure the other is safe

if you go somewhere to eat and offer a bite to him, he’ll melt

do anything for him and he’ll melt, really

one time you held the door for him and he had heart eyes the rest of the night

another time, you complimented his taste in fashion while you took a few pictures of him for instagram and he couldn’t stop smiling

how can he be so precious?

always tries to impress you with a surprise while you are out

he might spoil his new solo track or pay for a meal if you stop anywhere to eat, but that’s when he’s feeling extra

one time he surprised you with a tight hug and a genuine thank you that actually made you cry

“baby, please... spend some time.. with me?”

==≎==

Yuta

you and yuta are like two peas in a pod

like peanut butter and jelly

like strawberries and chocolate

like french fries and burgers

like fish and chips

sorry, i’ll stop with food pairs im kinda hungry right now

anyways, you get it

yuta feels lost when you aren’t around. you are his best friend, his other half (winwin who?)

yuta without you just feels... wrong

nct’s instragram is full of the pictures you guys take when you go on adventures together, which is very often

it’s his favorite thing to do with you; traveling and exploring

you pull up a map on your phone and go buck wild

you’ve both found some pretty cool places and some amazing views

you found a hidden cove somewhere off the coast in california but you guys got in trouble later that day because no one could find you

turns out you guys had wandered a lot farther than you thought

the pictures you showed the group made up for it

they were gorgeous candids of the both of you, laughing and smiling together

one was a timed one where you were both jumping

all of these photos and videos were posted to instagram which made a lot of people happy just to see yuta and you so happy in your elements

sometimes, you guys force mark to join you which takes some convincing because you two are always trouble 

mark wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but those moments he shares with the two of you are where he has the most fun

he never knew two people could love each other platonically as much as the two of you do

however, he wants to barf whenever you guys call each other sappy pet names because, ew, third wheeling

“where should we go today, honey?”

==≎==

Doyoung

my birthday twin, let’s get it

how do i even begin to explain how much this boy cares?

you are the third member on his “favorite member” list

now, don’t get petty when he says you’re third

the story of how you got demoted from first is a bit funny in hindsight, jeno (who’s in first) takes the liberty of making fun of you for it whenever you hang out

jungwoo (who owns second) always tries to stand up for you though

you were messing around with taeyong on top of a set-piece while shooting a music video

doyoung had scolded you and told you to stop or else you would get hurt

you decided to laugh off his warning because you “weren’t that clumsy” 

turns out you were

taeyong did something cool (when does he not?) and you wanted to try it, so after he told you how to do it a few times, you did

you fell

not very far, only a couple feet, but you landed on your back

the sound was so loud that it startled everyone

doyoung had a heart attack

he thought you died

you had the wind knocked out of you and your back was a little sore, but other than that you were fine

at least ten people swarmed you

including taeyong who was apologizing like crazy

doyoung was right there, lifting you up and already giving you an earful about how he told you to be cautious

once people were sure you were fine and didn’t have a concussion, they left you alone

doyoung doesn’t like much physical affection, but he’ll put that aside to smother you against his chest and harshly reprimand you

he’s a mom friend and will always be

will never tell you, but he prizes the moments when you get sick or hurt

sounds sadistic, and maybe it is, but he loves when you are a helpless baby and he has to take care of you

always scolding you for compromising your health, but doesn’t stop pampering you

tells the other members off when they try to help him

makes you soup when you are sick and gets you anything you ask for without complaint

if you get hurt, he’s right there with some form of first aid

and since i know you’re wondering: yes, he will cuddle you if you ask.

“come to me when you need help, you dumb baby.”

==≎==

Jaehyun

jung jaehyun is the definition of boyfriend material

when you two get together, the aesthetic blogs pale in comparison

everything the two of you do together is an aesthetic, really

golden hour selfies on rooftops where your skin glows and your eyes look the most beautiful

candids on the streets of the city where you're illuminated by the street signs

coffee shop pictures where you look so perfectly in your element sipping coffee and looking out the window

snapshots of “date nights” where you stay in to watch movies or kdramas with popcorn, candy, and a bottle of wine

couple’s outfits where you pose like models while someone takes your photo

you guys do it all

honestly, the biggest ship in all of nct is you and jaehyun

fanfiction writers are jealous no doubt because how the hell can the two of you live out their writings so flawlessly

some people use the pictures the two of you take as templates for their mood boards or “nct as boyfriends” projects

you both probably started a vlog series on the nct youtube account

however, the time you guys spend together is strictly platonic, no matter how badly people want you two to “just date”

neither of you tries anything romantic because blegh, disgusting, i’ve known this person for so long they are literally my best friend, my sibling, a family member i’ve never had but always wanted

sure, jaehyun’s ears turn red whenever you guys dress up in similar outfits but it’s because of people’s reactions

if you see a picture with jaehyun shy next to you, it’s probably because johnny is screaming behind the scenes about how good the two of you look

speaking of johnny, he’s the hype man

also, sort of, maybe, kinda the reason you guys do so much aesthetic stuff

he says you guys are too good looking not to “bless the world with your visuals”

to sum this up, jaehyun treasures you and does the most with you

“what are you wearing today? we should match since it’s our friend-iversary!”

==≎==

WinWin

see wayv ver.

==≎==

Jungwoo

i love him with all my heart and i really miss him right now

it’s real soft hours up in here

not a single moment where you aren’t giving each other all the love you can muster

big comfy sweaters with sweater paws

love confessions every hour

always telling you he loves you and that you are his

treats you like royalty while also babying you into next week

he’s honestly the sweetest person on the planet and he can’t handle himself around you because dang, you really be out here existing and stuff

looking that good

since he’s so affectionate, i see him cuddling you like there’s no tomorrow

will build a pillow fort for you

honestly, he will do anything for you as long as you say please

not afraid to kiss you either. don’t matter where or when, he’s ready

some would say it’s his favorite thing to do

your cheek looking extra squishy that day? his lips have claimed that territory

your forehead exposed? kiss.

your neck easily accessible? smooch.

your hand in his? peck.

your lips in a pout? he better hold himself back because he’s about ready to risk it all just to give you a kith

the other members try not to seem too surprised every time you accept his lips on your skin

they freak out whenever it happens to them, or get super flustered

they don’t know how you handle his affection so well

you say it’s a talent when they ask you

a.k.a. you treasure all the affection he gives you because he is literally the best boy and you would die for him

he worships you on the daily (lucky)

he says his heart beats irregularly whenever you are around because he loves you that much

it was actually scientifically proven during a tv show when you had to make other members’ heart rates fluctuate with aegyo

you hadn’t started doing anything yet, but just by looking at you his heart did a boom boom and everyone freaked out

holds the title of the member with the best hair second-biggest ship in all of nct and of course, it’s with you

fans have so many videos of jungwoo hanging off of you and being clingy

always talking about you like you put the stars in the sky

you know that video when jungwoo was giving mark “the look”? it’s like that with you but at least ten times worse and all the time because you are his baby, his world, his favorite member

always has to comment about what you two did that day

never ever forgets to talk about how much he cares about you

“yeah, y/n and i are close. i love them with all my heart. they are perfect!”

==≎==

Mark

see dreamies ver

==≎==

Haechan

see dreamies ver

[clawedcosplay]

Space and Sinners

A scifi AU for Promare, in which Lio dedicates himself to making change, but looses sight of what he's changing the world for.

Chapter One

18+ Galolio

There will eventually be accompanying art and cosplays!

Exhaustion had long since dulled itself to a roaring background noise, like thunder in the distance. Lio wanted to turn off the blurring light of the Vivitpad, but his sense of duty kept his purple eyes open and trained on his document. After being elected, the pressure had been on. Lio wouldn’t be like the decades of council seat members who made promises they never delivered on. 

Neon lights slipped through the window across his face, and despite his duty he found his attention dragged to it. He stood in his silent and dark office, strolling to the massive windows to the city. His city, now. Below him there was a woman dressed ornately, pinned against a building as her things were searched. 

The bright green eyelashes that framed his eyes narrowed. Another prostitute getting arrested. A Cytype. Didn’t they know they brought down all of the lower class when they acted so deviant? They gave people like him a bad name, he who had fought tooth and nail to be the first Cytype on the council. And a Burnish Cytype at that.

Lio cracked the window, and the sobbing mixed with police radio buzzing swirled around him like a lullaby. He fished out his juul, taking a drag and letting his body be bathed in smoke and neon. 

He would change it. The Cytypes would be seen as equals to the Biomen and Biowomen upper class. Lio will make real change in this worl-

The lights flashed on and the doors slammed open. 

“Boss!” two voices shouted, and Lio flinched, juul falling from his fingers.

He fumbled for it as it clattered out the window, smacking against the sill and down past the upper level, into the abyss that was his home. The lower levels of the city. 

He was only given a second to mourn the loss of his blessed TCH when two pairs of arms threw themselves around him, dragging Lio back from the window. 

“Boss, you’ve been stressing way too much since you won-,” 

“Yes, you haven’t even left the capital building. So,”

“We decided to get you something! Help you relax a little, yeah boss?” 

Guiera and Meis. Those two would finish each other’s sentences as they bumbled over themselves in excitement. Lio sighed and turned around in their arms so he could look at them. 

“Tell me it’s a fix.” he grumbled, still salty about having dropped his old one, “If not, then I need to get back to work.” He tugged out of both sets of hands to get to his desk again. Damn… His Vivitpad had gone into sleep mode. He danced his fingers across the screen to wake it back up, only to have it slip from his hands. 

Guiera lifted it high into the air, smirking. “Sorry boss! No can do! Mandatory break! You need to destress a little.”

“O-oi! Give that back!” Lio hissed, reaching after it.

Too late. As much as he hated to admit it, Guiera had about a foot on him. He couldn’t reach. 

Lio fell back down to his heels. “Fine,” he huffed, hair bristling, “What did you get me?” 

The two shared a shit eating grin. 

‘God, they shared the same gay braincell’ Lio thought to himself. 

Then movement out of the corner of his eye brought Lio’s attention back to the door. For a moment his jaw dropped before he could manage to gather it back up. 

Another Cytype. Likely an Iceist. But that wasn’t what caught Lio’s attention. 

The blue haired man was clad in exotic clothes, even by modern day’s fashion. A neon green curtain skirt fell over the man’s slim hips, and a neon green top clung to his muscular chest, barely held together by straining black cords. Neon green and black were Lio's election campaign colors, and the clothes just emphasized this man's body perfectly. Lio himself felt outdone in his tired mandarin collar shirt and dress shorts with capital sash. Part of him longed to dress in exotic fashion and let loose in the underground music clubs that the Cytype people created with their own hands. Maybe he could take this gorgeous stranger along. Get lost in those almost glowing eyes… 

Lio’s daydream snapped shut as he himself slammed closed the drawer of his desk. This was a prostitute in his office. The Biomen and Biowomen could fool around, that was fine for them. But Lio had to hold himself to a higher standard. He would just be another deviant Cytype if he lowered himself in such a way!

“Boss,” Guiera grunted, clapping his hand down onto the other’s shoulder. 

Lio jumped, looking at him. 

“This is just another fix. Just like your other habit. Unbutton your collar and relax, yeah?” he said, in a surprising moment of stoicism. 

“Well… maybe-,” Lio stuttered, considering it for a second. 

“Cool! Bye!” Guiera shouted. 

“Have fun boss!” Meis added, slamming the door shut with the beautiful stranger stuck inside. 

“Damn it,” Lio grunted, rubbing his hair. 

“Councilman Lio?” the stranger asked, cocking his head to the side. His bouncy blue spiked hair flopping along. 

He looked like a dog… 

Lio slumped down in his large chair behind his desk. “You know, I’m not the biggest fan of your industry.” 

For a moment the stranger’s face fell, but the look quickly disappeared. “Well, most people aren’t. But if you wish me to provide you my service, I would be pleased to,” He said, striding to the desk. 

“You only say that because those two have already paid you, no?” Lio snapped. 

Something flicked through his eyes again, before he stepped around the desk. Lio forced his eyes to look anywhere but how the skirt hugged around the stranger’s ass. They would save the politics and discussion for later though. Lio did need to relax. He couldn’t do his job if he kept so tense. He sighed, feeling tension roll from his skin like the smoke he missed so dearly. 

Worn and warm hands run over Lio’s hand, and Lio felt flames lick at his stomach. Suddenly he realized he missed this just as much, if not more than the clubs and freedom of a life without politics. Companionship… was hard to find when your life was your work. 

The blue haired stranger sinks down to his knees, his rough fingers running down to Lio's ankle. 

“May I?” he asked, fingers hooking into the laces on the councilman’s combat boots. 

Lio’s mind muses how soft the stranger’s voice seemed, nodding wordlessly. 

The man pulled at the laces, painstakingly. Every time his fingers brush the latex material on his shoes, Lio feels his skin light on fire. Oh god… how long has it been? Lio slumps into his chair, feeling shivers run up his spine. 

The fingers finally slip his shoe off, the three inch sole clunking as it falls to the ground. Then finally skin meets skin again, sliding up his thighs. 

“You shave your legs, councilman?” the prostitute asked, letting his face run against the soft skin. 

Lio frowned. “I like the feel-,” He starts to say when his entire body jolts. 

The stranger had parted his lips to drag his tongue up from ankle to knee. It was precious, sacred, like the act was an act of worship. And Lio had never felt that before. 

Lio quickly overcame his shock to ask, “They’re not paying you hourly, are they?”

“No. fixed rate,” he muttered, dragging his face up to where Lio’s shorts started, teasing his tongue up under the tight fabric. 

“Then what are you doing?” Lio hissed, gathering at his constitution like sand that kept slipping from his fingers. 

“Is this not what you want?” the stranger muttered. 

Lio frowned. 

What did he want? 

“Master Lio?” the blue haired man asked timidly. 

Lio’s attention and purple eyes were dragged down to him. 

“Yes?” 

“The name’s Galo,” He said, standing to his full height and slamming his hand down on the wall behind Lio, “And you better learn it fast, because it seems you want me to make you scream it.” 

“Pardon?” Lio asked, hair fluffing out of place. Did this man just flip a switch?! What the hell?! What happened to worshipping him?! 

"Well, that's what you want, right? No more slow burns." The man's hand found Lio's tight collar and yanked it even tighter around the thin neck. "You want me to take control?" 

Lio closed his purple eyes, feeling the steady flame of arousal ignite into a roaring fire. 

Oh god he wanted someone to take control. Responsibility had been weighing his shoulders down and down and down, and he wanted to release. Wanted to lose himself- 

"No," Lio said, "I can't lose control. For all I know you're an assassin. I'm sure the Iceist leaders are mad that the first Cytype councilman is a Burnish."  

'Galo' looked put out. "You don't even use your flames. I'm pretty sure if I wanted you dead, you would already be." 

The circuit board over the other Cytype's arm appeared with an icy blue glow and the collar of Lio's shirt froze ever so slightly. 

Lio felt breath catch in his throat like an ice cube. 

"But, that would be stupid. Pretty sure I wouldn't get paid," Galo laughed, releasing Lio's collar. 

The councilman's lips pursed. Something about this man seemed honest. Though maybe it's just the mesmerizing blue eyes. 

"Okay." 

"Okay???" The man mirrored with a look on his face. 

"Okay I'll use your ...services. I have been too tense. It's affecting my work." Lio grumbled, "but I'm not giving up control. Just because I choose to not use my flames doesn't mean I'm untrained in them." 

Lio's own arms lit up with his fire circuit boards. He gripped Galo by his neon green harness and yanked him forward, and the sheer heat generated by Lio's power made the other's bangs dance. 

Though Galo's eyes lit up, not in fear but in amazement. He pressed forward as the burnish's knuckles seared into his chest, but teased his lips just an inch from Lio's.

"Suppose that means I'm in for an interesting time tonight," Galo whispered to him. 

Lio felt his stomach flip over. 

"Suppose that does." 

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 16: Locks - This Is A Little Bit Much Chap. 1 - My Ghost Just Got Squared

What does the ghost of a half-ghost look like?

Danny sighs at the board, philosophy mixed with ghosts and his parents' tech was honestly more concerning than it had any right to be. Watching as his teacher slaps a hand on the whiteboard, “everyone's ghost is locked away inside them. Existing in its base undefined state. Waiting for deaths key to imprint on it it’s true form”. Before pointing at the guest, who’s wearing a white lab doctor's coat, “Dr. Lewis here, lovingly provided to us by the Fenton’s, will be demonstrating this in a way I’m sure you’ll find riveting”.

Anyone who wasn’t paying attention, which wasn’t very many since nearly everyone always did when something was about ghosts, is acutely interested now. As Dr. Lewis stands up, waving around what looked like a neon green mirror on a red sliver handle, “this device, the Ghost Mirroring Key, will allow us to glimpse inside the keyhole. See what your ghosts look like at their base form at your current age”, Danny groans internally as the guy keeps talking, “now because ghosts often retain the clothing they died in, none of your clothing will change or glow. All we’ll see here is your basic ghosts ghostly attributes. Skin colour, hair colour, ear shape, if you have claws, if you have fangs, eye colour, and any other more unique traits. Such as equipment, flames, permanent ghostly tail, or even a cape or cloak”.

Needless to say, Danny’s a bit freaked out by this. Just how much like Phantom will he look? What about Dan? It’s always haunted him wondering just how much of Dan was Danny and how much was Vlad. Because physically? The only Vlad attributes he had was the cape and red eyes. The rest was all stuff either both of them had or just Danny.

Watching his parents' doctor friend, Dr. Lewis, pass around the little mirror-like palm-sized plates; and tentatively taking his own. Danny’s not exactly surprised that everyone else is eager, they really don’t have any reason not to be. And honestly? Danny was curious too. Just way less curious and far more nervous. If anything Danny’s more curious about what his friends will look like. Man he wishes they were in the same class. But pretty well everyone in grade twelve was doing this, okay, it was probably everyone. Something tells Danny that this was going to become something of a senior year tradition. Getting to glimpse your ghost for a day.

Dr. Lewis clears his throat, sitting on the corner of the desk, “now that that’s all sorted, simply place your hand on the device for ten seconds. You’ll turn invisible for a few seconds before gracing us all with your ghostly selves”.

Danny only stares down at it, watching his reflection and mentally making black hair white and blue eyes green; while the rest of his class instantly uses it. Glancing his eyes around, Danny can’t help but snort at Dash looking like a green wingless gargoyle. Expected, but still funny. Kwan literally looks the same but purple-skinned and red-eyed. Paulina, who’s fingers are just a little too long with pink skin and long lazily flaming red hair, is fawning over Star's white hair and green eyes. While Star goes on about how every ghost and human wouldn’t be able to look away from Paulina’s hair. Which just descends into them complimenting each other back and forth.

Looking around the rest of the room, no one really looks scary. Dale’s fangs stick over his lips, Todd’s claws are closer to blades, and Mikey didn’t have lips at all; but no one really looked non-human. Well okay, Lily has a second set of arms.

Danny bites his lip and looks back down to his ‘mirror’ before getting slightly started by Dash, “what? You afraid of your own ghost Fentit? Or are you just afraid it’ll be as weak and loserish as you”.

Dale laughs, “of course! Poor little freak won’t be able to look at himself without screaming!”.

Jasper sighs and shakes his head, “guys be nice, this is probably horrifying for the guy. Today will be like an exercise in not running away for him”.

Danny grumbles as he side-eyes the jocks, “that’s honestly more insulting than helpful”, before looking back to the mirror. Getting startled again by someone kicking his foot.

Turning around to see Valerie, he’d honestly forgotten she was in this class too, seeing as neither often showed up or showed up on the same days. Danny has to restrain a smirk at her red skin as she points a clawed hand at Danny’s mirror. Speaking while rolling her purple eyes, “just do it. I mean I can deal and you know how I hate ghosts”.

Danny grunts but turns back around, biting his lip again before tentatively putting his hand on the ‘glass’. Of course, putting this off meant everyone was staring at him.

Danny flips over his clawed whitish-green hand a few times, it also glowed far more vibrantly than was normal. While Paulina cries out, “what?! Why’d that loser freak have to get white hair too!”. While Dash huffs, “yeah, Fentina is nowhere near cool enough to share colours with Phantom”.

Danny looks down into the mirrored surface in time to spot Valerie’s red hand pat at Danny’s flaming hair. How funny that looked is the only thing really stopping Danny from cringing at his reflection. White flaming hair was very very Dan. Least he still had his green eyes, which like everything else, were glowing strangely bright. Danny’s just chalking that up to him already being partway ghost. He’s got no clue why there’s a tip of green flames to his hair though.

Most of the class goes back to talking in their little groups while Danny checks out his, fuck those are bigger than Dan’s what the fuck?, fangs; and sticking out his, pointed and elongated but thankfully not forked, tongue.

Danny tilts his head back as Valerie taps on his shoulder, resulting in her snorting at his face, “green eyes too? You better make sure you don’t get offed wearing monochromes”, squinting at him, “what’s up with your glow though?”.

Danny shrugs, he had no damn clue, “well I am around my folks' stuff and frequently get accidentally shot by it. Probably been accidentally consuming ectoplasm for years”. Valerie hums in agreement.

Dr. Lewis claps his hands, “remember this only lasts for a few hours. So enjoy your unlocked states while you can. And please, try not to get unlocked permanently through natural means anytime soon. Ghosts may have powers and you may all look very cool, but they’re still dead”.

Danny can’t help but chuckle, he was never going to see this look again. Since he couldn’t actually fully die anymore.

Putting his chin in his palm as Dr. Lewis walks around to look people over, causing Danny to notice there are white flames where they logically shouldn’t be if it was his hair. Looking down at his chest and going wide-eyed at the white and not weirdly brightly glowing flames of what he damn well recognises as his cape. The sides pinned together via two green skulls and a smoking shadowy black chain. Sticking his left hand behind him to scrunch up the familiar plush-lined velvet fabric, with a mental groan. Of course, that was here! Before near panickedly groping through his hair flames for the crown. His hand stilling as his fingers push against the flaming metal, that’s why there’s green tipping! His crown is literally hiding inside his hair, since it wasn’t actually meant for someone with fucking flaming hair. Danny can’t help but laugh over the image of the crown just floating above the flames, like two feet above his head. Like a damn sims icon. Ancients that would look silly!

Danny leans back in his chair and stares down at his Ring Of Suffering, of course, something like this would be imprinted on the very base of his ghost.

Overhearing Dr. Lewis speaking to Valerie, “I’m not surprised at least one of you has a cape”, making Danny look behind him, this time actually noticing that Valerie’s got a cape. Red and thin with black lining. From the looks of it, Danny guesses it’s about knee length, unlike his which drags across the ground for about a foot. Dr. Lewis continues but is addressing the whole class this time, “having things like artifacts or tools. Such as a guitar or maybe a ring. Means that something is a source of power for your ghost, that other ghosts don’t naturally have”.

Todd laughs as he smacks the whip on his hip, “so we’re basically better ghosts”.

Dr. Lewis tilts his hand in the air, “you could put it that way, yes, but it’s more so that you have a niche and special skill. This could be a bad thing in some situations”, while Danny mentally grumbles about how being High Ghost King did indeed suck sometimes, Dr. Lewis clears his throat, “as for capes or cloaks. They’re simply signs of power, skill and leadership in some form. Ghosts with capes or cloaks are always a cut above the rest. The apex ghosts so to speak. More fanciful capes and cloaks, means more powerful or important. Things like length, number of colours, accessories, details, etcetera. A ghost with a simple brown cloak would be below, so to speak, a ghost with a simple brown cloak that had clasps”.

Danny easily hears Valerie mutter, “damn fucking right. Even my ghost is better than ghosts”. Making Danny chuckle, before tensing up over Dr. Lewis looking him over. Mentally chanting, ‘don’t notice the crown, don’t notice the crown, don’t notice the crown’. While the rest of the class comment about how ‘of course little miss gymnastics would be a powerful ghost’.

Dr. Lewis pokes at one of the large green skull clasps with a raised eyebrow, chucking, “I’m not sure if Maddie and Jack would be proud or bothered. You’re going to be something impressive”, he laughs, “well here’s hoping you don’t retain you skittishness of ghosts in the afterlife”.

Danny’s about to thank his lucky stars before Dr. Lewis parts away some of Danny’s hair flames and raises both eyebrows at Danny, “well then. I’m not going to claim to understand how or even why. Just do me a favour and don’t be a human-hating ghost”.

Danny gives the guy an awkward nod and just decides to be glad that Dr. Lewis’s body blocked him from the rest of his classmates' sight. Valerie of course, heard everything, being the only person sitting near Danny. Whispering at him, “so that green isn’t part of your hair”. Danny just shrugs awkwardly.

When the bell rings, Danny doesn’t really want to stand up but he’s also brutally curious about his other friends now. He already knows they’ll look at Valerie and smirk. Then look at him and cringe. Well, it’ll probably be in reverse order but still.

Valerie whacks him on the arm, “well get up you lucky, or unlucky I don’t really know, asshole. Also fuck that cape’s soft”. Danny chuckles and rubs his neck, “tell me about it. Pretty sure the inside is damn plush, I could sleep in it”.

Valerie snorts as she gets up and starts walking, looking back at him, “you got a damn napping cape. Figures”. Danny can’t help but blink and start laughing, before shaking his head and getting up; cape tail flopping onto the ground.

Resulting in whom ever’s still in the classroom to stop talking, as now that Danny’s not slouching or hidden by the chair the capes collar flames are extremely noticeable. Danny walking out to whispers over the cape and how it’s ‘highly decorated’ and ‘really fancy’.

Shouldering his way past Dash and his merry band of pricks, while Dash sneers, green fangs on full display, “wow I’m surprised Fentaco hasn’t run screaming yet. What? Am I not scary enough?”, making a point to attempt at snarling.

Danny, kind of done with Dash’s shit and having the confidence and pride boost of his kings wear, rolls his eyes, “hardly”, smirking and baring his own fangs a little, “and Dash, this is how you snarl”, before giving Dash a more proper and threatening snarl. Starting the jocks.

Valerie bumps shoulders with Danny as they walk past, “the hell Danny?”.

Danny rubs his neck before pointing at her, “oh don’t tell me your cape isn’t a bit of a confidence booster. And Dash looks like a knock off gargoyle. A one in a million ghost. And it’s Dash, still human. No powers. Working heartbeat”.

“Point”.

Both turning their heads as Dash shouts at them, seeing him pointing at Danny, “hey! What are you doing with a cape!?!”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “doing better than you apparently”, before running his hand through his hair, easily revealing the flaming crown, and speed walking away. Danny

Valerie pokes him as they’re approaching Sam and Tucker, pretty well everyone staring at them, “you are going to trip someone with that thing. And I know you’re used to getting odd looks but this is a bit much”. Danny shrugs, looking around a little, he hardly noticed. Basically everyone stared at him as Phantom. Fenton got it less often and it was usually more mocking.

Danny smiles seeing his two other friends also with capes. Was it surprising? Not to any of them. Tucker’s got nearly black skin tinted green, with a near floor-length off white cape lined with gold and etched with hieroglyphs.

Danny pats him on the shoulder while his two friends stare at his hair, “how very Egyptian Tuck. Red eyes kinda suck though”.

Sam pokes his hair with a pale nearly white green clawed hand, “says Mr. Fire hair”.

Danny pokes her horned helmet right back, “least I have hair”. Her green eyes and purple cape covered in green vines, was one hell of a reminder of Overgrowth. It honestly made sense that the ghostly bullshit they’ve all gone through has affected their base ghosts.

Sam and Tucker look Valerie over then, both chuckling slightly. Tucker stretching out some, “wow, the whole quartet got capes. Nice”.

Danny nods and looks around, “not the only ones”, jerking his head at Mia in a black cape with a red grid pattern and Hanna in a purple cloak. Danny couldn’t really help looking to see if she had some kind of time-related clasp or something. She didn’t, but it would honestly be weird if she did.

Valerie shoulders him, “well yours is still the most excessive thing I’ve ever seen”. Danny just rubs his neck and shrugs.

Eventually, the bell goes off and they’re stuck going their separate ways, largely because Danny’s stuck running off outside. Ghost sense making him groan. Though blinking and wondering just what the hell going ghost is going to look like right now. So he zips into a bathroom instead of out in the open. He transforms and stares in mild shock. The whites of his jumpsuit glowed slightly green, same with his hair; which was oddly not flaming. His skin was black and all the black on him seemed to suck in the light. His glow, normally white, was green. To say Danny was confused would be an understatement. Muttering down at his hands, “what the fuck? How the heck is my ghosts base ghost different from my humans base ghost. My ghost from and human form have different base ghosts...What the absolute fresh hell?”. Well, at least his Kings get up was easy enough to turn invisible.

Shaking his head and phasing through the ceiling and promptly kicking Technus in the face.

“You look strange ghost child! Perhaps you are trying out some new styles yourself!”.

Danny laughs, “I unlocked Phantom 2.0, and I must say, it’s made me one hell of a glow bug!”, before blasting Technus in the face. Blinking at his hand over how absurdly bright the blast had been.

Technus springs up, “you are stronger whelp! 2.0 indeed!”.

Danny shrugs, “don’t know what to tell ya dude. Wait! Hey! Get back here!”, rushing off to fly after the fleeing villain. Who cries, “I must regroup!”.

“Oh I don’t think so!”, Danny slams him over the head with the thermos and sucks him in. Wiping his forehead and looking around. Shaking his head at some people taking photos. His weird look was going to be the talk of the town for days.

Turning invisible and flying off into the bathroom. Locking the bathroom door to really stare at himself in the mirror. Waving his hand around to see he’s leaving light tracers, pale green ones. “Sam and Tuck are going to lose their shit”.

Shaking his head as he transforms back, before leaving the bathroom. Only to bump into a red-skinned Wes. The bathroom door getting stuck slightly open when it caught on the end of Danny’s cape.

Wes looks him up and down with Halloween orange eyes, “why the hell don’t you look just like Phantom. How do you always manage to pull something off? And what’s with the cape?”.

Danny smirks, “oh? I thought everyone knew Phantom was a King. Since you seem to think he’s me, then, of course, you’d see me with a cape”.

Wes glares down at the ajar door, “I ain’t seeing shit Phantom”.

“But I thought you just said you could see a cape?”.

“I hate you”, crossing his arms and looking around, seeing they’re alone, speaking more seriously, “seriously though. What’s up with the look?”.

Danny shrugs, “dude you know I’m a weirdo. And everyone knows Phantom’s fucking weird. Wouldn’t surprise me if he wasn’t entirely dead or some shit”, shrugging and pulling out his phone, “oh and apparently Phantom looks weird today too”.

Wes deadpans, “yeah, I bet you do”.

Danny holds up his phone, showing a pretty decent photo of Phantom 2.0 he’d already found on twitter. Wes snatches the phone and stares before gesturing wildly at the screen, “what the hell is this!”, looking up at Danny, “how?!? HOW!?!”.

Danny shrugs and takes back his phone, “for once, your guess is as good as mine. I don’t even think ghosts are supposed to glow that brightly. Wish I was there”, smirking and looking back at the bathroom, “an up-close look would be really neat”.

Wes just glares and kicks in the door, nearly tripping over Danny’s cape as he goes.

Danny throws his arms over Sam and Tucker as the wave bye to Valerie. Tucker chuckling, “so are you actually going to go home like this?”. Danny shrugs, “folks know what’s happening today and literally insisted on seeing my ‘ghost unlocked’. Not surprised but first...”. Danny looks around and points to an alleyway, “have y’all checked out Phantom on twitter lately?”.

Sam rolls her eyes, “giant tech companies are slowly crushing the middle class and destroying the youth through mindless distractions”.

Tucker shakes his head as Danny steers them into the alley, “so that’s a no then. And Danny dude, I don’t think anyone has. Too interested in being ghosts, sorta, for a day”, poking him, “you’re the only one that this isn’t a novelty for”.

Danny lets go of his friends and spins around to be in front of them, looking excited, “oh that’s where you’re wrong. I’m about to slightly blind you”. Before transforming, rings brighter than usual, and floating in the air. His green glow making the alleyway look eerie, like it was part of the Ghost Zone. Tucker and Sam both gaping at him.

Tucker eventually snorting, “dude, when you’re literally a half living paradox I thought I’d seen the most impossible thing ever. But now you’ve literally got two base ghost selves”.  

Sam nods, “that seems more impossible actually”.

Danny sticks his hands out to the side, “I know right! I know I like to joke about being a glow bug but this is excessive”, dropping one arm and charging a painfully bright ecto-blast, “and I’m stronger. I think I may have actually startled Techy”.

Both Sam and Tucker are shielding their eyes, Tucker giving him a thumbs up anyway, “dude you could actually blind someone with that”.

Sam shakes her head and pats Danny’s arm as he extinguishes the blast, “so a ten-second mirror-touch gives you a multi-hour power boost”.

Danny smirks, “video game power-up mode unlocked”.

Tucker snorts, “what bonus achievements do you think this unlocked?”.

“Mass confusion, pissing off Wes level three, one confused call from Vlad, and at least twenty new FentonWorks inventions”, Danny taps his chin, “oh and one mild existential crisis because I have TWO BASE GHOSTS JUST WHAT THE HELL?”.

Tucker snaps his fingers, “Pokemon dude”.

Both Sam and Danny look at him, “what?”.

Tucker rolls his eyes, “come on dude. All the best Pokemon have three evolutions, and a mega-evolution”, Tucker counts off his fingers, “there’s your first, human. Second, ghost. Third, halfa. ‘Cause let’s be honest, halfas are stronger than y’all would be if you had just skipped straight to death. Besides, you were probably full ghost for a bit before getting half your life back. And now this”, gesturing at Danny, “your stronger, got a flashy appearance upgrade, and it has a time limit. It’s fucking megaPhantom. Your mega-evolution, the Ghost Mirroring Key your Phantomite”.

Danny borderline squeals like a little girl and Sam sighs but smiles, “you two are dorks”.

Danny waves goodbye to his friends with a little amused pep in his step, pushing open his houses front door only a little while later.

Speaking with mirth, “I’m home! Please come and check me out so I can escape the poking to flee into my humble lair”.

Jack laughs at his sons' humour as the two parents indeed come to look Danny over in the living room. Danny’s not even surprised they start poking at him and lifting up the cape. His dad running his hands through both sets of flames before pointing at his hair, “that one’s colder, and flames are pretty fearsome”.

Danny tilts his head at the approving tone his dad used, “you seem... happy? about that?”.

While Maddie brushes imaginary dirt off his capes shoulders, “the capes impressive too. You’ll be strong”.

Now Danny’s really confused, because that sounded approving too; even a bit proud. But promptly internally cringes as his mom goes to ruffle his hair, nearly stabbing herself with his crown. Jerking her hand away only to motion for him to bend forward for her to get a better look.

Danny’s practically holding his breath waiting form them to say something. His dad speaking up, “of course a Fenton would wind up ruling ghosts! Teach them how to behave and keep them in line!”.

Standing back upright, “okay seriously, why are you guys happy about this? I figured you’d be, you know, not. ‘Cause ghosts”.

Maddie successful ruffles his flaming hair around this time, “think nothing of that sweetie. We fully expect you’ll be a ghost someday. You’re already so ghostly as a living human”.

Jack nods, “and with you being obviously destined for strength those other filthy ghosts won’t be able to bother you over being a Fenton! Not that any Fenton would ever let a ghost harass them freely!”.

Danny’s flat out stunned and gapes a little, before shaking his head, “so wait, you guys want me to become a powerful leader ghost? That could potentially be a threat?”.

Jack grabs both of Danny’s shoulders, “better you to be a strong ghost than a weak one, when around them. And Danny-boy, you could never be a threat. If any ghost could resist a ghosts nature to be evil, it would be a Fenton’s ghost! Besides! If we needed to catch you I’m sure I could just coax you to join me for some fudge!”.

Maddie nods and smiles at Jack, before turning to look at Danny, smiling softly, “now, of course, we don’t want you to become a ghost. To die but not rest”, shaking her head, “but you’re already so much like one that it’s obvious you’ll become one. Setting off detectors, being affected by anti-ghost weapons, bloodblossom allergy, you snarl and purr, baring your teeth and curling your hands like claws”, while Danny’s realising he acts way more ghost than he though, Maddie shakes her head again, before continuing to speak, “with all of that how could you not become a ghost”, glancing at Jack, “and though it would be funny watching your father coax you with food, I’d rather us be long gone by the time you join the Ghost Zone”.

Danny rubs his neck, cape bunching up a bit and still feeling a bit thrown, “uh, thanks”.

Jack nods with a smirk and puts his fists on his hips, “of course Danny-boy! And this way we’ll now know what you look like as a ghost! So will your friends!”.

Maddie smiles and motions for her two boys to follow her into the kitchen, “and when things eventually come to pass, everyone will know not to shoot at you or hurt you”.

It takes a beat for Danny to follow, far too stunned. His folks wanted to see him, not to examine him, but to be able to recognise him as a ghost? So they wouldn’t harm him? By the time he gets into the kitchen, he’s barely keeping tears from flowing down his face. Promptly hugging his mom from behind and nearly whispering, “thank you. You-you don’t know how much that means to me”.

Maddie grabs and rubs her thumb over one of Danny’s green arms. Leaning her head against his head resting on her shoulder, “always sweetie. Ghost or human, and regardless how tall, you’ll always be my little boy”.

Danny squeezes her a little tighter before promptly hugging his dad, who was somewhat awkwardly standing behind them. “Thanks too, dad. I promise I’ll always come for family fudge. Maybe when things happen, and if you guys wind up ghosts too, I’ll come find you. Bring you some”.

Jack squeezes back hard, “I could think of no better thing you could do”, patting Danny on the back firmly, “who knows! Maybe you’ll have to keep us in line!”. Making both of them laugh and Danny wipes his eyes quickly before sitting down.

Danny can’t help but smile throughout dinner, which doesn’t go unnoticed by his parents.

Maddie asking, “you really were worried how we’d react to you as a ghost, huh?”.

Danny rubs his neck and looks around, “how could I not? You guys hate ghosts and chased after Phantom even though he was pretty good”. Not to mention the fact that Danny was Phantom and his third biggest fear was that they’d still shoot at him even if they knew. The second being anyone dying and the first being becoming Dan.

Jack chuckles a bit awkwardly, “yeah we were a bit quick to the trigger back then. But everyone learns! You’ll have to learn to be a leader even! Judging by the crown”.

Maddie smiles and giggles slightly, “though I don’t think you’ll be doing much learning”.

Danny tilts his head, “what do you mean by that?”, before eating some more of his mash potatoes.

Maddie points at his spoon, “that. Your eating around your fangs-”.

Jack cuts in, “which are really impressive!”.

“-with ease. Like you just know how. And I don’t think you’re even noticing when your ears swivel, like you’re used to it. You easily move around your cape to keep it out of your way and you’re not fiddling with the ring. Like it’s always been there”.

While Danny’s internally freaking out a little bit about that all being apparently a little too obvious. Maddie continues, “so even your body knows what’ll be. All you’ll have to learn, I think, is how to go about being a leader. I’m sure you’ll do well though”.

Jack nods and pushes away his cleaned off plate, “you’ll be respected and looked up to! Good! Like, well, like Phantom!”.

Danny blinks, he knew his parents' opinion of Phantom had changed some. But to hear that so bluntly was stunning. Threatened to make him tear up again. Clearing his throat to distract himself, “I guess my bodies already got things figured out”, rubbing his neck before blinking and going wide-eyed at his parents, “wait, are you guys thinking of calling a truce? With Phantom?”.

Maddie nods, “we’ve been thinking it over for a while now. And we really have heard everything you kids have said about him”, ruffling Danny’s flames, “and you look a lot like him. And thinking of that, you as a ghost. You’d probably be a lot like him. Quick wit and...and defending others. Being helpful”.

Jack laughs, “honestly! You look more ghostly than he does!”.

Danny can’t help but chuckle, that’s because Phantom was only half-ghost and Danny currently looked full ghost. “I bet he’d get a good laugh out of that. And I’m glad, for the truce thing. He’s a good ghost”.

Maddie nods with a smile while Jack speaks up, “I imagine he’s pretty confused today! A bunch of teens running around looking like ghosts!”.

Danny snorts and pulls out his phone, looking down at the picture of, snort, megaPhantom, before looking back to his parents, “yeah about that. You know how he frequents the school?”.

Maddie raises an eyebrow, “yeah?”.

“Well, what’s supposed to happen if a ghost uses the Ghost Mirroring Key?”.

The two parents exchange a glance.

[wistfulcynic]

To Keep It All The Year (1 /4)

Not long ago @katie-dub​ asked me if I was planning to write a Christmas fic. I said sure, I’m doing the CS Secret Santa. And then I thought about it, and I thought actually maybe I’ll write a little something for Katie because she is a delightful human, a kind and supportive friend, and one of the people I feel honoured to have got to know over the past year, and she deserves every nice thing. And then I started to think about what she might like and I had IDEAS which of course soon grew far beyond my original concept. And then @thisonesatellite​ egged me on (with REAL EGGS) and here is the result: an angry and broken Killian, a struggling single mother Emma, a precious wee Henry, and the healing power of Christmas magic. 

Katie, my dear, I can’t begin to tell you how much your support has meant to me these past few months. You are the loveliest and most loving person, and I hope you enjoy this little offering 💕

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is a broken man, betrayed by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in. He’s all but given up on life until a fateful meeting with bartender Emma Swan and her son Henry gives him a reason to live again, and a chance to redeem his past. 

All it takes is a little Christmas magic. 

On AO3

Tagging all the folks from the last tag list, PLEASE do let me know if you want to be added or removed.  @kmomof4​​​​​​​​ @shireness-says​​​​​​​ @snidgetsafan​​​​​​​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​​​​​​ @snowbellewells​​​​​​​ @stahlop​​​​​​​ @mariakov81​​​​​​​ @courtorderedcake​​​​​​ @jonirobinson64​​​​​ @tiganasummertree​​​​​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​​​​​​ @shardminds​​​​​ @jennjenn615​​​​​ @superchocovian​​​​​

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PART ONE: THE PAST

He’s still broken when he meets her. Broken and bitter and angry. So, so very angry, the kind of angry that lodges in a man’s chest just below his heart and and rots there. Rots, but doesn’t rot away. The putrid tendrils of it twine and twist through him like the tentacles of the kraken he heard tales of as a boy. They fuse to his bones and mix with his blood and he welcomes them. His is a fury born of betrayal, by everyone and everything he thought he could believe in, and it’s all he has left of his life. It’s all he remembers how to feel. 

He’s come to this place for escape, for peace, but there’s precious little of either to be found. Not here. Not in this neighbourhood of once-lovely houses built tall and proud and so sturdy their ruin takes decades, a slow attrition of cracked windows and crumbling corners and decay that sinks into the walls and consumes them from within. But it’s the best he can afford on what he has that’s his, and he finds that the atmosphere suits him. A broken place for a broken man. 

He doesn’t have to work so for a while he doesn’t, spending his days walking the streets of the city on feet that carry him eventually, inevitably, to the docks. And there he stands, sometimes for hours, watching the horizon and the boats that move across it, stewing in his bitterness. 

He prefers to do his drinking alone on the ratty sofa that doubles as his bed, his only company the blinking neon and the traffic noise, and the smell of pot smoke that wafts from the apartment below. His thoughts are tumultuous then, memories of writhing seas and wind and waves and Liam, of courtrooms and lawyers and just accept the payout, Commander Jones. They’re the bloody Royal Navy, they have resources you can’t hope to match. 

Sometimes though his solitude becomes oppressive, a heavy darkness that sucks the air from his lungs and drives him back onto the streets where he breathes the filthy smog in heaving gulps and then again he walks, among the crowds but not of them, until he finds a bar where people look like they won’t ask questions. 

It’s on one of those days—of all the good days in the year on Christmas Eve—that as he trudges through the greying slush barely a block from his apartment his eye falls upon a door he feels sure he’s never seen before. It’s not in any way a special door, plain brown wood and a foggy window with writing he can’t quite make out, but a jolly little wreath is hung upon it and though he feels about as far removed from the Christmas spirit as any human creature could be, he finds himself pushing it open and going inside. 

The bar he enters is small and worn in the way of well-loved things, the gouged wood of the tables polished to a soft gleam and the cracks in the leather seats carefully mended. Tall rows of bottle-laden shelves line the brick wall behind a carved oak bar that looks far too ancient for this modern land. It takes him all in a rush and flutter of memories back to the England of his childhood, to his mother still untouched by disease and his father not yet embittered by loss, he and Liam free from care as children should be, sneaking from their beds on Christmas Eve and down the back staircase to hide in a toasty corner of the pub and wait for Father Christmas. 

He always awoke on Christmas morning in his bed, presents piled at the foot of it. A small pile, he knows now, but big to his young eyes, and he would wonder aloud how Santa managed to get him and Liam back to bed and deliver their presents as well. And Liam, six years older, would scoff and tell him don’t be stupid, Santa can do anything.   

“What can I get you?” 

The question snaps him back to the present and he realises he’s taken a seat on a leather topped stool at the bar. The woman behind it is smiling at him, a smile he’s certain she gives every patron but its bright warmth soothes him all the same. 

“Rum,” he replies.  

“Any particular kind?” 

“The cheapest you’ve got.” 

She grabs a bottle of a brand he knows is far from the cheapest and pours out a generous measure, places it on a cocktail napkin and slides it in front of him with a look that dares him to make something of it. He accepts her kindness with the most gracious nod he can manage, saluting her with the glass before taking a sip. It goes down smooth and he closes his eyes on a sigh, savouring the spicy richness and mellow burn, a far cry from the second cousin to paint stripper he’s grown accustomed to.

“Thank you,” he says. 

She smiles again. “Merry Christmas.” 

He sips the rum slowly as he falls back into his memories, the earlier ones of brighter days he hasn’t thought of in years, so long they almost feel like they belong to someone else. To the person he was when he was happy, and it surprises him to recall that he was happy, that despite what came later he was once a part of a loving family. It saddens him, how thoroughly he’s forgotten this. A melancholy sort of sadness that makes him long for a different life. 

And that, he thinks, is why he forgot. 

 The moment his glass is empty a new one appears at his elbow; although he didn’t speak to the lovely bartender it seems she anticipated him. 

He doesn’t want to stare at her and yet she draws his gaze. There’s a light within her, a warmth that illuminates her golden hair and makes her green eyes glow. He watches from the corner of his eye as she goes about her job, pouring shots and pulling pints, always with a smile and a kind word. She brightens everything she touches, leaves it a bit better than she found it. 

She’s magic, he thinks, then shakes off the foolish thought. 

He’s deep into his second glass when she pulls a phone from her back pocket and her smile falters as she reads the screen; her light seems to dim and flicker, and without a word she turns and runs from the bar. 

She returns moments later with a small boy in her arms, a lad who can’t be much more than three or four. He’s sound asleep against her shoulder and she cradles him protectively as she confronts the dark-haired man who’s emerged from the back office wearing a stern frown, arms crossed over his chest.

“Emma, you know you can’t have him in here,” the man says. 

“What do you want me to do, August, I can’t leave him home alone!” she implores. “He can sleep on the sofa in your office, he won’t be any trouble—” 

“We can’t have child unsupervised in the bar—” 

“He’s not unsupervised if you’re in the office—”

“I’m heading home in half an hour.”

“August, please—”

“I can look after the lad.” He’s not sure what prompts the offer, perhaps because he’s been recalling his own childhood and the patrons in his father’s pub who never minded him under their feet, who entertained him with tales of their lives on the sea and who, he’s come to realise, lifted some of the burden of childcare from his parents’ shoulders so they could do their jobs. Regardless of where it came from, he means it. It seems the least he can do for this remarkable woman.  

The woman—Emma—turns to him with a look of surprise. “Would you?” 

“If the only obstacle is not having anyone to sit with him, then yes, it would be my pleasure.” 

Emma fixes him him with a hard, searching look, and he is conscious of being measured and assessed and weighed in the balance as never before. Then she nods. “What’s your name?” 

“Killian Jones.” 

“Well, Killian Jones, you’d be saving my neck.” 

He smiles. It feels strange on his face after so long an absence, but also right. “It’s a neck worth saving, love.” 

She laughs. “I’m Emma Swan, and this is Henry. We just live across the street, if you could—” 

“Of course.” He grabs his coat and follows Emma as she heads for the door. 

“August, I’ll be back in fifteen,” she calls over her shoulder. 

“Make it ten.” 

—

The cold outside is bitter, biting. It comes as a shock after the cosy warmth of the bar, and he’s glad Emma was being truthful when she said she lived just across the street. Across it and a bit to the left in a building much like Killian’s own, with solid brickwork and elegantly wrought cornices obscured by grime and years of neglect, its pointing crumbling away under the weight of creeping moss. She leads him through the outer door—its lock is broken, he observes—and up a chilly staircase several flights to a door where he’s relieved to see that the lock is both sturdy and new. He’s prepared to bet Emma installed it herself. 

She unlocks it, balancing Henry on her hip in a practiced manoeuvre, and leads him into a tiny apartment that from his cursory observations strikes him as far too familiar for his liking. He follows her into the bedroom where she lays the boy on a child-sized bed in one corner of the cramped room. There is an adult single bed in another corner, along with a sturdy bureau that takes up most of the remaining space and a rickety chair draped in clothes. A few toys litter the floor around Henry’s bed, and Killian is impressed by the way Emma navigates around them even in the dark. 

She tucks the blankets around her son then gently shakes his shoulder until he wakes. 

“Mom?” Henry murmurs groggily. “Has Santa come?”

“Not yet, baby, but he will. You just have to go back to sleep first.” 

“You woke me up,” Henry points out. Killian feels a grin tug at his lips. Clever lad. 

Emma’s mouth quirks as well. “I know, but Mrs Lucas had an emergency so Killian here is going to look after you until I finish work,” she says. “Is that okay?” 

Henry blinks at Killian and once again he feels his measure being taken by one who knows how to take it. 

“Okay,” says Henry. 

“Good. Just go back to sleep, baby, and if you wake up again Killian will be here.” 

“’kay Mom.” Henry’s eyelids are already drooping. Emma touches Killian lightly on the arm and indicates with a slight jerk of her head that he should follow her again. They retreat to the living room, closing the bedroom door quietly behind them.

“If you need me just call the bar,” Emma says. “The number’s on the fridge and I can be here immediately.” 

“I’m sure everything will be fine, love.” 

She looks at him for a moment with an unreadable expression. He wonders what she sees, and what she thinks of it.  

“Thank you for doing this, Killian,” she says. “Truly.” 

His first impulse is to shrug away her thanks but something deep within him refuses to allow it. She doesn’t often ask for help, of this he’s certain, and although he has no notion of what might have led her to do so he’s deeply honoured that she’s asked it of him. Her gratitude deserves acknowledgement. 

“You’re welcome, Emma,” he replies with another rusty attempt at a smile, rubbing at a spot just below his right ear. “Um, hadn’t you better get back to work? I imagine that boss of yours is counting the seconds until your return.”  

“Probably.” The corners of her lips dance in amusement. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“I’ll be here.” 

—

After she leaves he finds himself at a bit of a loss, unaccustomed to being alone in other people’s living spaces. He doesn’t want to turn on the television for fear of waking Henry, and Emma doesn’t have much in the way of books. With no other means of passing the time at hand he wanders around her apartment, not wishing to snoop but intensely curious about this young woman and her son. 

The curiosity is new.

Their place is on the surface much like his own, the run-down building, the un-insulated windows, the mould in the corners and the general overlay of grime that no amount of scrubbing could ever shift. It’s grim, the sort of grimness that creeps its way into the soul and slowly sucks it dry.  

And yet. There’s plastic on Emma’s windows, a thin film of it attached with double-sided tape and fitted with a hairdryer. Do-it-yourself insulation. She’s built shelves that hide the cracks in the wall and decorated them, with candles she actually burns and small framed pictures—some of which are clearly Henry’s work—plus some other little knickknacks and art projects of his. In the corner is a small Christmas tree decorated with coloured lights and a few bright baubles jumbled alongside ornaments made of uncooked pasta, glued in the shape of stars and painted gold, and cut-up paper snowflakes. She’s creative and clever and so is her lad, and the effect is far homier and more festive than Killian would ever have imagined it could be. 

She’s trying, this Emma. There’s not much she can do with a place like this, but still she tries, and there’s valour in that effort. It brings a lump to Killian’s throat. How long it seems since he stopped trying. 

He jumps as a noise comes from the bedroom, a small cry that lengthens into a wail. 

“Mamaaa,” cries Henry. 

Killian rushes into the bedroom and then stops, unsure of what to do. He sits on the edge of Henry’s bed, his hand hovering over the small form huddled beneath the blankets. 

“Henry? Lad, it’s Killian. Do you remember me?” 

Henry’s tearstained face appears and he snuffles, and rubs the back of his hand across his nose. He stares at Killian for a moment then nods. “I remember,” he says.

Slowly Killian lets his hand fall on the boy’s shoulder, rubbing it in a way he hopes is soothing. “Your mum’s still at work, but I’m here. What’s the matter?” 

“I had a dream.” 

“A scary one?” 

“Yeah.” Henry’s lip quivers. He looks so distraught, and Killian surprises himself by sliding further onto the bed and reaching out his arm. Henry dives immediately beneath it and snuggles against Killian’s chest, burying his face in it and sniffling some more. Killian swallows past the lump in his throat, breathes through the squeezing pressure in his chest at the feel of the small body pressed against his, at the unbelievable honour of this show of trust.

“Do you want to tell me about your dream?” he asks. 

“No,” says Henry, the word muffled against Killian's sweater but no less decisive for it.  

“Oh. Erm... shall I tell you a story then?” 

“Do you know any stories?” Henry looks up at him, wide-eyed. 

“Aye. Sailors are renowned storytellers.” 

“Are you a sailor?” 

“I was.” 

“Okay.” Henry snuggles closer, adjusts himself so that he can look at Killian while still resting against his shoulder. “Tell me a sailor story. Please.” 

Killian weaves him a tale of a ship lost upon uncharted oceans, of a sailor with a broken heart who in a fit of despair cursed a true lovers’ knot and flung it overboard, which heedless act awakened an eldritch beast from out the briny deep. He tells of how the brave sailors fought against the beast to save their ship, and of how they succeeded, though at the cost of their souls.

It’s rather a dark tale for a child perhaps, but one he loved himself at Henry’s age. He can remember sitting before the fire in the pub, curled in Liam’s lap listening, as wide-eyed and rapt as Henry is now, to the old and weathered sailors as they wove it skilfully around him. Henry is enthralled but as the story unfolds his eyelids grow heavier and his body more relaxed, and by the time Killian has finished recounting the sailors’ terrible fate the boy is sound asleep.

Killian tries to ease him back into his bed but Henry clings to him, tiny fist tight on his sweater. With a sigh, Killian settles down and makes himself as comfortable as possible on the small bed, cradling Henry securely beneath his arm and tucking the blankets around them both. He closes his eyes, just to rest them, he thinks, and moments later he falls soundly asleep. 

-

[fortunatelyhauntedblackcherry]

Moonshine - A Beetlejuice Fanfiction 09

Warning: swearing (as always), BJ being horny, fire hazard.

The next day was monday, and every monday night since the girls moved together years ago was movienight. They prepared dinner together, bought a shitton of snacks, sat down on the floor in the living room and watched at least 2 movies. Most of the time they fell asleep during the third one.

So they were all in their kitchen, which had pretty peach-colored walls, a big window framed by curtains with various embroidered wildflowers on them, and olive green / beige french country-style kitchen furniture. Rei was making guacamole - which Sirius made quite a hard activity with all the jumping and whining for a piece of chips or basically anything delicious - while Sofía was talking about her business dinner from last night and Ari was sitting on the countertop, in the middle of the kitchen, eating Nutella out of a jar with a skull-shaped spoon. Minerva was laying beside her on her back, playing with a piece of breadcrust, getting occasional earscratchies.

- So I was like "No go amigo, I couldn't possibly share an exhibition with them" and my manager was like "why?" and I was like "because I'd have to be talkative and cute with them and man I couldn't" and he was like "but they are respected artists in the community" and I was like "yeah but they can't even use photoshop MICHAEL how could I work with people who are sooo past century"? - said Sofía, flipped her hair and took a sip out of her lemonade. - So yeah, he arranged the whole thing and now my coworkers for the next couple exhibitions will be not so known, but rising photographers instead of old people, isn't that awesome? - all of a sudden Minerva lifted her head up, pricked her ears and started to hiss in the entrance's direction.

Beetlejuice just arrived after his hunt for bugs in the winter garden. He was leaning against the entrance archway, and shaked his head in disappointment.

- I can't believe that you still hate me this much, you waste of fur. - the cat hissed harder. - What?!? Two can play this game, if you're not nice, I won't be either! - he pointed at Sirius, who let out one bark, then continued harassing Rei. - Look, even the dog got kinda used to me!

- I wonder what her problem is. - said Sofía while Ari pulled the kitty into her embrace.

- That's the point where you should tell them that "yeah she sees my demon buddy, yeah, we have a spectre, and I can hear him!" - said Beetlejuice in a girlish voice while he stepped closer to Ari. The girl stroked the slightly hissing Minerva, who was now laying on her lap. Ari licked her Nutella-covered spoon clean. Beetlejuice stopped in his movement and his jaw slightly dropped. He started to drool a bit. - Hooooly shit babes, it seems like you know how to turn my software into a hardware!

Ari blushed a bit and tried really hard not to giggle so she started to talk.

- ANYWAY... - that was way louder than she intended, so she cleared her throat - ...what did you do last night, Rei? - knowing exactly what happened to her poor sister (since after she got better, Beetlejuice told her everything), she was just curious if she would talk about the posession of her computer. Rei's ginger hair flew over her face as she turned to Ari and put the guacamole down to the countertop.

- Well you could say I was practicing poetry, since Robert Lewis Stevenson insisted that wine is bottled poetry, but to be honest after streaming I was just drinking and wondering what I wanted to be when I grew up... I'm sure it wasn't an anxiety ridden bitch disgusted by people with a wine problem, serving exactly those whom I disgusted by, but... - she put her hands up in the air - ...here I am! - she giggled as she turned to the fridge.

- So I suppose your "fans" were mean again? - asked Sof. Rei took some cheese out of the fridge, and scoffed while giving a piece to the very excited Sirius.

- Not mean, fuckin nasty. - she shut the fridge and rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses. - I mean, some of them spammed my IG DMs with requests of "please send me the bra you wore during today's stream, I saw the strap and I'm hooked", like... Ugh.

- Can't judge a man for wanting some lingerie from a pretty girl, that's my opinion. - said Beetlejuice while he hopped on the counter next to Rei.

- Jesus fuck people are weird... - commented Ari as she got off of the middle countertop. Minerva ran away to upstairs.

- Oh so that's the socially acceptable opinion now? Okay wait... - Beetlejuice cleared his throat and continued in a sarcastic manner, heavily gesturing while doing so. - OH YES PEOPLE ARE AWFUL UGH DISGUSTING EW HOW COULD SOMEONE ASK ANYTHING LIKE THAT EWEWEW. - his voice went back to normal as he looked at Ari, who just hugged Rei. - Was it good and totally believable? - Ari smiled and gave him a thumbs up behind her sister's back. - God I'm good! On the other hand, did I tell you that when I walked into Rei's room yesterday, I almost tripped on a bra? You could say... - he floated next to Ari's ear. The girl could feel his icy breath on her earlobe. - ...it was a booby trap. - Ari shut her eyes and bit her lower lip while smiling widely. - SERIOUSLY HOW ARE YOU NOT LAUGHING YOUR PRETTY ROUND ASS OFF, THAT WAS PHENOMENAL!!! - Ari let Rei go and went to one of the cupboards. Rei poured herself a glass of red wine.

- I don't even know why I'm getting upset by these kinds of shits anymore. I've been doing this job for years, I should be used to creeps. - she shrugged. - Eh, whatever, it felt nice to vent.

- And we're here to listen every time! - shouted Ari, head inside one of the lower cupboards, fistbumping the air. After some rummaging, she lifted her head out. - Hey guys, where did we put the ultimate bathbomb?

- What? - asked Sofía with a tilted head.

- The toaster. Obviously. - BJ slapped his knees as he started laughing.

- Gee, doll, that was good! Your humor is getting worse and worse under my influence and I'm living for it! - he scratched his head. - Wait, is that appropriate for me to say? Or should I say I'm dying for it? Since I'm dead? - he shrugged his shoulders. - I dunno both sound good.

After Sof got the machine out of one of the highest cupboards, Ari started making grilled cheese sandwiches. Beetlejuice floated right next to her and flashed a pretty evil, toothy grin. He wriggled his fingers while looking up at the ceiling lamp, which started to flicker. The girls quickly looked at each other but didn't say a thing. BJ giggled. Ari stuck the toaster's plug into the power outlet, which instantly made it sparkle. One of the sparkles fell on Ari's hand. She quickly got it away with a quiet "ouch", and looked at where Beetlejuice's very uproarious laugh came from. The angry face she made almost made the demon tear up.

- What? You thought I'd never mess with ya, doll? After seeing this face, I'll do it even more often, you angry little toddler you... - and with that, the lights flickered again.

- Am I hallucinating or did ya see that too? - asked Sofi, pointing at the lamp.

- Maybe it's just bad wiring... - said Rei, with a rather nervous chuckle. She didn't sound believable at all. - It's nothing to worry about...

- Oh so you think I'm nothing to worry about?! - said Beetlejuice with annoyement in his voice. - You underestimate me, little one. - he pointed at the chandelier in the living room and the lamp in the kitchen. They both started to shine and flicker in the same rhythm. The girls looked at each other.

- I'm pretty sure that's not bad wiring... I think... - one of the light bulbs in the living room shattered, stopping Ari for a moment. They all ducked as the light bulb in the kitchen exploded. - I THINK THIS HOUSE REALLY IS HAUNTED!!!

- THANK YOU! FINALLY! - shouted Beetlejuice, his eyes and his neon green hair glowing. - I'M FINALLY GETTING THE RECOGNITION I DESERVE!

- IT'S NOT, GHOSTS ARE NOT REAL! - shouted Rei, while trying to help Ari get hold of the angrily barking Sirius.

- It's scientifically proven that they are... - commented Sof.

- Shut up, I'm not superstitious like you two! I mean sure, weird things are happening in the house, like my PC acting strange, or the hairdryer sucking Sofi's hair in, but I'm sure there's a logical explanation!

Beetlejuice grinned like a maniac.

- Oh baby you really want logical explanation? You think there's any logic to ME? Then watch... This! - the demon cracked his fingers and chuckled as he looked at the plugged in toaster. Ari looked at the voice's direction and gasped when she saw what Beetlejuice was doing. The toaster's heating wires were glowing red hot, and an awful stench came from the machine. The smell of burning plastic.

- OH FUCKIN HELL!!!

- Who doesn't like a bit of electrical fire? - said Beetlejuice, laughing, looking at the infurious Sof. Ari quickly jumped up and started to go through the drawers quickly. Sof was quicker, she handed her the oven mittens, which Ari put her hands into and lifted the now flaming toaster.

- Okay... Now what? - Rei jumped up in panic too.

- What what?!?

- Where do I put it?!

- ARIADNÉ, YOU JUST LIFTED THIS FLAMING SHIT UP WITHOUT A PLAN?!?!?!?!

- I'M NOT A VERY BRIGHT WOMAN, OKAY?!?!?!? - Rei opened up the window and pulled the curtains back.

- THROW IT OUT!!! - Ari quickly threw the machine out of the window, into the birdbath that was under it. The flames started to fade and the girls let out a huge, relieved breath.

- Welp... I may sound like a hypocrite but... After this I think we're haunted. - Sofía and Ari both looked at Rei.

- You said, literally a minute ago, and I quote, that you are not superstitious like us two. - Rei threw her hands up in the air.

- I'm not superstitious! But I'm a... Umm a little bit stitious.

- Do you seriously think this is a right time for Office quotes? - asked Sof, with folded hands and an eyeroll.

- Hey this is how I cope! Toasters don't start spitting flames normally, man! That shit scared the living Hell out of me!

Ari bit her lower lip. A faint idea crossed her mind.

- Ummm... I think we should ask our presence what do they want. - the girls and Beetlejuice both looked at Ari with lifted eyebrows. - Sof, don't you have an Ouija board? We could ask them stuff and maybe help them out. So they won't cause trouble like this again. - Beetlejuice covered his smiling mouth with his hands.

- OHMYGOD BABES THAT'S A GREAT IDEA! I never tried playing with those things but...

- Okay let's do it. - stated Rei decidedly. - Sofía! Get your Ouija board. We're adjourning movienight. Let's ask this bitch what the everliving fuck is their problem!

[rena-rain]

The Shortcut Home ch. 10

Chatper 9

For the first time in four years, Gabriel Agreste picked up the box that contained his miraculous. He didn’t open it, but closed the portrait in his office and journeyed underground. He found his wife looking exactly the same as she had since she’d fallen asleep. It was only dedicated work and a miracle that kept her alive.

Gabriel placed his palm on the glass, sighing deeply with longing. Remembering her voice was hard these days. He missed the way she’d quirk an eyebrow at him and laugh like she knew something he didn’t. He needed her to be his stubborn, stubborn anchor again.

“Our son is getting married, Emilie.” The words were soft. “He’s having a baby. I wish you could see him now.”

The way her face looked smooth as stone disconcerted him.

“I was ready to give you up. Adrien has come too close to the line of fire too many times. But now I have more reason than ever to bring you back. I swear to you, you’ll meet your grandchild.”

Gabriel gave himself another moment with Emilie. Then he straightened, opened the box, and watched Nooroo flash into existence.

“Master?”

Gabriel fastened the brooch to his shirt. “It is time that you serve me again, Nooroo.”

--

Adrien leapt out of bed and threw on a pair of pants.

“What are you doing?” Marinette sat up.

“I’m going downstairs to make sure Nino and Alya are okay.” He hated how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. It steeled his resolve to tell Marinette who he was. Just not now.

“Adrien,” Marinette pleaded, catching his arm and pulling him back towards her. “Stay with me, please. It’s dangerous out there.”

He looked anguished. “Mari…” Gentle fingers brushed her hair behind her ears. “I want to explain, but now’s a very, very bad time and I have to go. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Just don’t go.”

“Trust me.” Adrien regretfully let go of her face and turned to leave only to be pulled back again. He thought he’d have to keep making his case – which he did not have enough brain power to do just now – but Marinette sealed their lips together and gripped him tight. He kissed her back, trying to reassure her. They pulled away slowly, and as soon as they parted, Adrien’s eyes fluttered open. Hers were still closed, her face desperate.

“I’ll be back,” he breathed. He kissed her forehead then forced himself out of her hold.

--

The room suddenly felt cold with Adrien gone. Marinette opened her mouth and looked around, only to remember that Tikki wasn’t here. She hadn’t felt so helpless since Stoneheart.

The only thing she could do was stop Adrien from doing something stupid. She scrambled out of bed and yanked open the half-closed bedroom door. A bright green flash nearly blinded her in the dark room.

Marinette stared, dumbfounded, as Chat Noir leapt out an open window, his back to her.

--

Alya startled awake at the explosion outside. She kicked away the covers and rushed to her apartment window, where a giant pink and purple cloud of something was quickly engulfed in flame.

She turned to Tikki. “I don’t suppose that was a freak accident.”

The kwami looked worried. “That’s definitely an akuma. It looks like we made this switch not a moment too soon. We need to go!”

“Tikki, spots on!” Tikki spiraled into her earrings and a pink light flashed down her body. Alya pushed open her window, flung out the yoyo, and shot off into the night.

I hope Chat Noir’s already on the way, she thought. She sprinted across the rooftops and halted behind a chimney that was right above the site of the explosion, trying to figure out what was going on. The street looked like it had been bathed in bright, multicolored paint.

“What are we looking at?”

Alya screamed and swung a punch at the voice behind her. Chat Noir, whom she could only see because of his glowing eyes and shiny bell, flipped out of her way before her fist could make contact. “Well that wasn’t very ladylike.”

“You scared me! Make a noise or something next time, you kinda camouflage in these shadows.”

“Cat snuck up on the fox – put that one in the history books.” He leapt up onto the brick chimney and perched there. “So what’s this one’s deal? I haven’t heard any more explosions.”

“I don’t know yet. We need to take a closer look.” They leapt to the ground. The damage was much more brutal up close. Radiating scorch marks littered the street. A car was upturned, on fire, and its windows were broken. The air smelled burnt and toxic.

Most disturbing was the graffiti. An entire mural of screaming and running people were plastered to the buildings, and while it was obviously spray painted, each face looked lifelike.

“Chat Noir, I think these paintings are actual people. Civilians.”

“Looks like we’re on the same page, Ladybird. And I’m guessing somebody had a lighter or a cigarette and set all the aerosol on fire, causing the car to explode.”

“But where did they go?” Alya – Ladybird yoyoed to the top of a lamppost. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she spotted a trail of particularly garish paintjobs amongst the normal Parisian street art. She called down, “They left a trail! Let’s go!”

Whoever this akumatized sucker was, they’d been busy. Chat Noir and Ladybird passed dozens, possibly hundreds of citizens turned into murals. After several minutes, she looked over to her new partner while they ran. “Why do I feel like we’re being lured into a trap?”

Ladybird flew past him when Chat Noir stopped dead in his tracks. She skidded to a halt and backtracked to him. His eyes narrowed. “Probably because it’s a trap. I don’t know how, but I think you’re right.”

“I know it’s been a few years, but Hawk Moth’s puppet used to demand the miraculous by now.”

“And if he’s suddenly come out of hiding, he must be especially desperate for them now.” He jumped onto his baton and extended it up, up, way farther up than was reasonable for any stick to hold him. He extended his arm. “Come up here.”

Ladybird slung the yoyo around his wrist and joined him at his perch. He pointed out the crazy paint trails all over the city that she couldn’t have made out before. It looked like a maze with no solution. “Maybe not a trap. More like a wild goose chase.”

“All the better to ambush us, I bet. So that must mean they have a very high vantage point, too…” Ladybird looked up. “Oh shit. The Eiffel Tower. Drop!”

They fell back to the street and rushed to an alley as far away from any paint as they could.

“I hate it when the akumas play cat and mouse,” Chat Noir complained.

Ladybird flicked his bell. “Good thing I have the cat, then. Let’s find a way to get the mouse down from its house.”

Chat Noir snorted. “That was terrible.”

“You’re really in no place to judge.”

“We need to get to the Tower without being seen, so we should stay on the ground, and avoid as much paint as we can.” A bright pink blast of orange particles beamed from the top of the Eiffel Tower and coated an entire block. “While there are any normal streets left, that is.”

Ladybird was jealous of Chat’s costume because it let him blend in with the dark streets more easily. She felt like a siren in the bright red suit – at lease her Rena Rouge costume, while orange, was soundless and easier to sneak around in. They wound through alleyways, sprinted across boulevards when they had to, and even made a detour through a sewer. By the time they reached their destination half of Paris had been turned neon colors. God knew how many people were now paint.

They almost made it. But the Eiffel Tower, for better or worse, was a major tourist attraction night and day. As such somebody screamed “Is that Ladybug and Chat Noir?!” just before they got up the damn thing. Immediately the excited couple got smushed to the sidewalk with a fountain of blue spray paint.

Ladybird flicked her yoyo to the top. “So much for the element of surprise.”

“At least we got here, didn’t we?” Chat Noir scampered up the side of the tower on all fours, somehow keeping pace with her as she shot up. They touched down onto the railing at the top.

This victim was a young woman, her hair in a messy bun the color of a blank canvas, paint brushes stuck in it like chopsticks or pencils. Her paint-splattered overalls were glowed and had way, way, way, way too many pockets stuffed full of even more paint brushes. Her skin was covered in rainbow rings. She whirled around when Chat Noir cleared his throat, aiming the spray-paint can in her hand.

“What’s with all the evildoing, Graffiti Girl? Get kicked out of art school?”

Ladybird froze, then groaned from deep within her soul. “That one’s just in bad taste!”

“Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

The purple Hawk Moth mask glowed around her eyes, and she demanded, “Hand over your miraculous before the rest of Paris spends eternity as a mural!”

“I bet the akuma’s in that spray can,” Ladybird muttered.

“Summon the Lucky Charm,” Chat whispered back. “I’ll distract her.” He leapt at the akumatized woman and attempted to sweep her with his baton. She jumped over the attack, pulled out two paint brushes, and started trying to stab him.

While they fought, Ladybird looked uncertainly at the yoyo for a moment. Ladybug’s plans were always so ridiculous – how was Alya supposed to live up to the same level of mad genius?

Well, here goes nothing. She flung the yoyo over her head. “Lucky Charm!”

A pair of red and black spotted handcuffs fell into her grasp. “What the fuck?” She looked around furiously, trying to think what Ladybug would do. Graffiti Girl and Chat Noir were still engaged in some vicious hand to hand – or brush-knife to baton – combat. Ladybird suddenly realized that she kept making grabs for Chat’s right hand. The ring. Of course.

The idea was stupid, but hopefully it would work. “Chat Noir! Extend your arm!”

“What?”

“Towards me!”

He clearly thought she was crazy, but he grabbed the baton with his left hand and threw out his right. Ladybird sprinted at a central pillar, jumped onto the side, and launched herself at her partner. As expected, Graffiti Girl had snatched Chat Noir’s hand and tried to simultaneously put him in an arm lock and take off his miraculous. Ladybird slapped the woman’s wrist with one cuff, slid to the side so she twisted her body, and forced her other hand into the other cuff.

“I’ll take that.” Ladybird plucked the spray out of her grip and offered it to Chat Noir like a silver platter. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“With pleasure. Cataclysm!” She tossed him the can and he caught it, the black energy crumbling it to dust. A little black and violet butterfly fluttered up from the ashes like the worst phoenix metaphor ever.

Ladybird swiped her yoyo like she’d seen her predecessor do a hundred times and captured the akuma. It came out with its wings bright white. She watched as it disappeared among the stars.

Chat Noir held up his fist with a proud smile. “Pound it?”

Ladybird grinned gratefully back at him. “Pound it!”

--

“Marinette,” Master Fu said. “I wasn’t expecting company this evening.”

“I’m sorry for barging in. I’m not used to just sitting by during akuma attacks, and my apartment is empty and I miss Tikki and I really didn’t want to be alone.”

“I understand. I’m deeply troubled by the appearance of this akuma tonight.”

“So am I, Master. That’s not why I’m here though.” She stood with her arms crossed. “I accidentally saw Chat Noir transform in my living room this evening.”

Fu’s only response was to go back into the kitchen and pick up a teapot. Marinette swore she saw the corners of his lips quirk up.

She threw up her hands. “You must think this is very funny, don’t you?”

“You two have paced circles around each other for thirteen years. Would you not be just as amused in my position?”

“I can’t believe I’m having Chat Noir’s baby! Do you have any idea how many kitten jokes I’ll have to endure?”

Master Fu handed her a cup of steaming tea. “Drink this. It is good for the nerves. On a more somber note, I must ask you to tell Adrien your identity very soon, Marinette. I hate to trouble you with this theory, but it concerns him as well.”

“What’s going on?” They both sat down.

“Hawk Moth released an akuma for the first time in four years. It bothers me that it’s coincided with your maternity leave.”

Marinette sighed. “It doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me either.”

“It may be he thinks his chances are better against a new ladybug. You were wise to choose someone with experience already. Whatever the reason, it’s become more imperative than ever to retrieve the missing miraculous, and now that Hawk Moth is active again, we have our chance to find him. I went back to the old academy for the Order of the Guardians, as you know. While there I recovered a number of old texts and I’ve found a single strange record about the Butterfly, so brief I almost missed it. There was once a holder who was able to detransform then akumatize himself.”

“The butterflies stay active while Hawk Moth is his civilian self?” Marinette yelped.

“Few have attempted such a thing. One succeeded in transferring powers to herself, that I now know of.”

“So Hawk Moth could have akumatized himself at some point.”

“Exactly. I’ve spent years searching for him. Every clue I find on some level implicates the same person. But I’ve never found a smoking gun, and I’ve always dismissed him because he was once akumatized into The Collector.”

“The Collector…” Marinette whispered, sifting through her memories. She remembered each akuma persona, all right, but the whacky names and civilians behind the butterfly often got mixed up in her head. “A previous suspect…oh no.” Her eyes widened. “No, no, no, tell me it can’t be Adrien’s dad.”

Master Fu just looked at her sadly.

--

When Adrien got back, Marinette was asleep. He sighed in relief; he needed sleep before he had this conversation with her, and after the way he jet off tonight, he had to tell her. In the morning.

He changed into a pair of sweats and slid under the covers next to her. He noticed that she’d changed into pajamas in his absence. Adrien wrapped her in his arms, one hand against her growing belly, and closed his eyes.

Chapter 11

Ko-fi

[imaginedanganronpa]

Can I please get a scenario where Shuichi is in love w/ the reader, but he doesn't think they like him back because he thinks they have feelings for one of the other boys in the class (your choice of who). Some angst to fluff??

The Requester specified in another ask that this is about jealousy as well! And I love me some good angst to fluff action, but wow I did not realize how long this one is. I hope you like it!! This one was a lot of fun :)

Saihara Shuichi Gets Jealous When He Thinks His Crush Has Feelings For Someone Else!

Saihara bitterly pressed his beading forehead into the palm of his hand, clenching his other into a tight fist at his side. Hiscold, trembling hands soothed the burning flesh on his skin, hot with anger andfrustration.

His mind was a tangled mess of emotions, too much for the Detective to handle.Why did you have to be so incredibly wonderful? So beautiful? So enthralling?Why did you have to run through his mind all day, why wouldn’t you leave hisconscious?

The questions swirled around his mind as his legs folded beneath the tinycafeteria seat. Kaede, whom was sitting directly beside him, noticed this andsensed that something was wrong – in fact, the blonde has already worked outSaihara’s feelings for you. She was helpless, though, and unable to say or do anything to put his wandering mind to rest.

Could someone as bright as you ever fall for someone like him? He wasn’t sosure.

You were like sunlight after weeks of rain. Every time Saihara sees you, his heartbeats against his chest, a cruel orchestra of feelings rushing through his veinslike adrenaline. All he ever wanted to do was bask in your presence, tell youhow much he cared for you and press his body against yours. And after all theseyears, he could still barely hold a conversation with you.

It was torture – pure heart-wrenching torture.

A vacant memory flashed in Saihara’s mind – of when you attended a summerfestival together, and the way you tugged on his hand while guiding him to aphoto-booth. He remembered how the sun was setting and the neon glow of the carnival rides and booths at the festival made you look heavenly, and his hand shook sohard cupped inside of yours.

Of course, it wasn’t just the two of you. A group of your close friends all went together to the festival – Kaede was there, and so were Kaito and Maki… and him.

He made Saihara want to disappear. The Detective was nothing in comparison andhe made the miserable boy want to escape from these feelings; of course thatwould also mean escaping from you, despite everything…

Kaede tapped on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, but Saihara just wanted tobe alone. He stood and trudged out of the cafeteria – he’d much rather endurethis torture than be away from you, even if you didn’t reciprocate hisfeelings.

But he was stopped in his tracks at the sight before him – in the entrance ofthe cafeteria. You were standing there, your face bright and smiling, with hisdamned arm wrapped around you. Him being Rantaro Amami, the man that most ofthe people in your class fawned over. The man who could get anyone he wantedwith his good looks and charm, and you were no exception.

He couldn’t hear what you two were talking about, but the blood rushed toSaihara’s cheeks faster than he could comprehend. His heart began to ache andhe felt his stomach flip, suddenly feeling nauseous. Jealously bloomed in hischest and he gripped his heart tightly, his knuckles turning a pale white.

He wanted Rantaro to get the Hell away from you, to stop touching you so much.His hands formed fists again and he fought the animalistic, instinctual urge toforcibly remove you from the taller man. The green-haired man was moving closerand closer to you as you talked, and Saihara wished he could gain the courage to throw the firstpunch, gritting his teeth angrily.

Then, a feeling of… shame washed over him. This was Rantaro he was directinghis hostility towards – one of the greatest friends he has ever known, and one of the kindest people in his class. He was friendly towards most people and wouldflirt without realizing or intending to. His arm around you and your closeness didn’tnecessarily mean romance!

And what right did Saihara have to feel this way? You weren’t his, probablynever would be. Even though that fact pained him.

He quickly turned on his heels and made his way towards the other exit, keepinghis head down so no one saw the tears gathering on his lash-line. He has neverbeen a jealous person so why did he feel this way now? So envious and inferiortowards one of his friends.

Fuck. Saihara hated feeling like this! Despised it! Tears were starting to flowfreely down his cheeks because he hated the constant ache in his chest,longing to be in Rantaro’s place, hated the utter jealously he felt and couldn’t containtowards one of his best friends. More than anything, he hated that he wasn’t goodenough for you, and that he could pine after you all he wanted but nothing wouldchange the way he felt – like you deserved so much better than him, and the wayyou looked at Rantaro spoke volumes.

“Shu-Shuichi?” A familiar shaky voice called his name and he froze. What didthe universe or whatever-higher-power have against him?

Standing just a few feet away, watching him cry whilst radiating concern, wasthe unattainable object of his affections – you.

Saihara’s tormented eyes met yours and you rushed forward, falling to your knees.To make matters worse, he noticed a worried-looking Rantaro still standing inthe doorway, watching you in a tantalizing way with crossed arms. Still, you cupped his face andstared at him with nothing but love and concern. His heart was breaking knowingthat you saw him like this, and that he did, too.

Little did either of you know that you were indirectly responsible for hisfeelings and tears.

“Shuichi, are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” He couldn’t handle it, why did you carefor him so deeply? Why did he have to fall so madly in love with you?

Biting his lip, Saihara finally came to terms with his emotions and the factthat he was desperately in love with you. He finally accepted it, although that still wouldn’t changea thing nor give him any peace of mind.

“I’m what’s wrong, (Y/N). I’m so in love with you, I have been for years, and Ifeel so jealous when I see you with Ran- other guys, and it hurts to know thatI’m not good enough for you!” Heavy silence fell between the two of you, andthat combined with his sudden outburst and confession made Saihara want to pullhis knees into his chest and disappear.

He shut his eyes tightly and prepared himself for the inevitable moment that he’s beenputting off for so long now – the moment when you would finally reject him andbreak off all ties.

Instead, he felt a wet, warm pressure against his forehead and his eyes shot open.Your gentle, loving face was smiling back at him, very faintly, after you just kissed his skin. “Who said you weren’tgood enough for me? That just… isn’t true,” your fingers wipe away his stillfalling tears and then helped Saihara to his feet once again.

“Is that why you left the cafeteria without a word?” You continue, “were youjealous of Rantaro? Oh, Shuichi, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s just afriend! Please, believe me when I say that you’re more than enough for me.”

He was… dazed and confused, and unsure of how to react. This wasn’t rejection?Your words about Rantaro only eased Saihara’s mind a little, and he was startingto feel as though he over-thought everything.

Your embrace caused all his thoughts to cease and he felt a moment of comfort,for the first time in so long. For the first time, the thoughts and concernsabout you that danced around in his mind were put to rest, even just for a fleeting moment.

“Don’t you see how wonderful you are? Don’t you see everything I fell in lovewith and want to be with?” Now your voice was breaking and Saihara’s heartjumped into his throat. He shakes his head and steps out of your arms, “You… loveme?” He was almost afraid to ask.

But your gentle smile tugged at his heart-strings and caused him to relax.Nodding, you confirm, “I do love you, Shuichi, no one else, but I didn’t think you felt thesame way.” Then, you step closer and pull his head down so that you can pressyour forehead against his, gazing into his beautiful eyes. Your sparkling gazemeets his tenderly and he couldn’t help but to let a single tear fall, but thistime it was a tear of relief.

There was still some lingering doubt, but it started making sense. The way yougrabbed his hand at the festival, the way you looked at him even right now, andthe way Rantaro treated not only you but everyone else around you… after fearingthe worst for so long, Saihara internally pinched himself for not taking hischance sooner.

And for letting his jealously get the best of him. After all, that’s completelyout of his character.

Throwing his fears and doubts to the wind, the Detective leaned forward andsoftly pressed his lips against yours tentatively, feeling you smile into thekiss. You reciprocate enthusiastically and wrapped your arms around Saihara’s neckas his hands find your waist, pulling you closer until there was hardly any spacebetween your bodies.

He was happier in this moment than he has been in months, and his insecuritiesand jealously disappeared into your warmth and love. 

Yours and Saihara’srelationship was reborn into something new, exciting, and beautiful.

- Mod Rantaro

[radiant-flutterbun]

Pixel and the Shapeshifter

(Some context because it’s been Awhile. In my lore I have gods from another world who can visit Sornieth if my shapeshifting shadeling, Inkdrop allows them to. These gods have a mostly human appearance, but a few animal characteristics too. Think of Catra’s design from the new She-Ra show)

Queen Sagacious wasn’t around anymore. One day she just left her queendom and never returned. She didn’t leave a note. She didn’t leave anything behind to tell her subjects what to do in her absence. It was unusual for her. Normally every move she made was carefully planned and organized. She scheduled her life out years ahead of time. And now she was just. Gone.

There were rumors that she went to live on the Dragon Planet, that the gods have started to hear so much about. The was a land dominated by dragons. It was a land of magic. When gods entered the land, they too turned into dragons, but with a price. They lost their immortality.

Ever since Sagacious’s disappearence, Pixel looked for a way to escape. But no matter what they did, they couldn’t seem to get the ankle bracelet that Sagacious placed on them off. It was ironic, considering that Pixel’s own creation was being used against them. As the God of Technology, that had made the parts possible to create the bracelet, and yet Sagacious outsmarted them with their own craft. None of Pixel’s tools could pry the thing off of them. They suspected that Sagacious mixed their tech with her magic, meaning that if they had any hope of removing it they would need to either remove their own leg, or beg Sagacious for forgiveness.

Pixel was considering cutting off their leg when they spotted someone move past their house. They lived in a pretty busy section of the queendom, so the movement wasn’t that unusual, but the look of the being certainly was.

She looked like a young girl with jet black skin, neon green hair, and bright yellow eyes. Immediately Pixel stepped outside for the first time in years.

“HEY SHAPESHIFTER! OW!” Their anklet bracelet zapped them “HEY WAIT!” Zap “OW! PLEASE-” Zap. They could hardly speak with the ankle bracelet continually pumping electricity into them the longer they were out of their house.

The strange girl stopped and turned around. She watched Pixel with a wary expression. Pixel trotted closer to her, but with another good zap collapsed on the ground beside her.

“Um,” The girl said “Are you ok?”

“No,” Pixel admitted as they yet again felt the pain of electricity coursing through them “But I will be if you can take me to the Dragon Planet.”

The girl clicked her tongue “Hmm I don’t know, the last god who convinced me to take him there turned out to be a no good meanie.”

“Hey- OW! I promise I’m not a no good meanie,” Pixel winced. The voltage was increasing the longer they were outside of their house.

“Why do you have a shocky thing on you?”

“Hey uh, I’ll be happy to discuss this with you in my house where I’m NOT constantly getting electrocuted.”

The girl watched as Pixel was shocked yet again and then looked at their open door. She shrugged “Ok, sounds safe enough to me.”

The girl followed Pixel into their little home. Inside wires and glowing machinery lay across everything in a seemingly unorganized mess. There was only a small path to walk without stepping on something. Pixel gestured to a spot on the sofa with no machines lying on it. 

“Please, you’re my guest so you can sit on the couch. I’ll just slump on the ground and catch my breath from being repeatedly electrocuted.”

“Ok,” The girl sat on the couch as was requested “You have a lot of… stuff.”

“Yeah, I have a lot of on going projects. I’m Pixel by the way. Pixel Pronoia, the God of Technology. And I only know of you as the Shapeshifter, but I’m guessing you have a name right?”

“Yeah it’s Inkdrop!”

“Alright cool! Nice to meet you! Now about the Dragon Planet…”

“Why do you have the shock bracelet?”

“Oh. Because I’m under house arrest.”

Inkdrop cocked her head “Why?”

“Because Saga is a bitch.”

“You mean Sagacious?”

“Yep. That’s Queen Bitchface.”

“My brother says she’s a bit mean, but all I’ve ever seen her do is read.”

“So you know where she is?”

“Yeah. At Clan Ton Theon.”

“That wouldn’t happen to be on the Dragon Planet, would it?”

“Yeah. Queen Virtuous asked me to take her there.”

“I fucking knew it! It has something to do with the Demon King’s growing power, doesn’t it?”

“Uh. Maybe? Sorry it’s hard to keep track of the politics that happen in every single world I visit.”

“Right. Must be nice being able to travel between worlds AND shapeshift.”

“You’re right it is pretty nice!” In an instant Inkdrop’s hair changed into long thick locks that matched Pixels “I like your hair by the way.”

“Thanks, that’s a good look for you. Anyway, I guess if you’re going to trust me I owe you the truth. Sagacious put me under house arrest because I befriended some mortals, which we gods aren't supposed to do.”

“Really? My brother has lots of mortal friends! And so do I! That’s such a dumb rule!”

“Wait. But you’re not a god.”

Inkdrop shot Pixel a chilly glare that sent a shiver up their spine.

“I mean yeah, it’s a fucking dumb as fuck rule. So as you can see I’m innocent. So can you please take me to the Dragon Planet?”

“Hmm… I still don’t know…”

            "Who was the god you let in that you regretted?"

             Inkdrop's face further soured "Naperone."

             "Why in the Spirits' names would you ever think trusting him was a good idea?!"

              "Hey I was new to this world and he seemed nice! How was I to know? Just like how am I to know that I can trust you?"

            "Ok, fair. What can I do to get you to trust me?"

            Inkdrop scratched her chin "Oh! I know!" She snapped her fingers and suddenly there was a swirling black void in the middle of Pixel's living room.

            "Is that a portal?!"

           "Yep! But it's not to the Dragon Planet. Hop on in. I want you to meet someone."

           Pixel backed away from the portal "Hold up. Where are you taking me?"

            Inkdrop held out her hand "Do you want to go to the Dragon Planet or not?"

           Pixel thought for a moment and then took a deep breath, stood up and grabbed her hand. 

With a giggle Inkdrop jumped into the portal with Pixel in tow.

For a moment everything was black, and then for a split second Pixel saw a flash of white light, causing them to instinctively close their eyes. When their eyes opened again they were in what appeared to be some sort of massive, dim lighted cave. There were several buildings constructed in this cave and the one closest to Pixel was one they recognized. It was a massive black Victorian style mansion, except this version of the building wasn’t dusty or falling apart. It looked formidable and elegant.

“Am I… Am I in the Underworld?”

Inkdrop nodded.

“But didn’t it get overtaken by demons?”

Inkdrop didn’t answer, a tall winged man was approaching her.

Pixel instinctively took their phone out of their pocket and it transformed into a knife with electricity sparking off of it.

Inkdrop smiled and tackled the man in a hug.

“Inky! Wasn’t expecting you to be here. Are you visiting Saph?” the man asked, returning the hug.

“Uh huh! Is she around?”

“Yes she’s in her room.”

Pixel squinted at the man. There was only one person that this could be, but something was off about him “Sepulchral Solstice?”

The man turned to Pixel. He was wearing a blindfold over his eyes, so he must not have noticed Pixel until they spoke.

“Yes that’s me,” The man answered “but I have a feeling that I’m not the Sepulchral you’re familiar with.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh!” Inkdrop spun back around to Pixel “Yeah this is a different universe. It’s pretty similar to yours accept not quite. Like the Underworld is fine here, and Sepulchral is older and Saph exists! That’s who I need you to see so come on!”

Inkdrop grabbed Pixel’s empty hand and with a strength Pixel couldn’t believe such a little thing could have, she began to drag them away from Sepulchral and into the mansion. Pixel quickly turned their weapon back into a phone before they could accidentally shock anyone.

Pixel watched as Gods of Death walked by and ignored them and Inkdrop. Some of them looked familiar to Pixel, but like Sepulchral there was something off about each one.

“Is Arkina here?” Pixel asked as Inkdrop led them up a staircase.

“Who?”

“Arkina, the Goddess of Animal Souls? She’s my sister.”

“Oh. I didn’t know she existed. But if she is here, you know she’s not really your sister right? She’s another Pixel’s sister.”

Pixel rolled their eyes “I know that. I’m just curious is all.”

“Oh well, we’re here now,” Inkdrop knocked on a door painted a dark purple with crayon doodles tapped on it. It was hard to make out what some of the drawings were depicting, but they thought some of them were supposed to be Inkdrop. Others showed a girl with black wings, and more showed another kid with orange eyes and who always seemed to have a dragon nearby.

The door opened and there was a girl with brown skin, black feathered wings and a frilly purple dress. Her face lit up when she saw Inkdrop and the two kids squealed and hugged each other.

“Inky!!!” the winged girl shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Saphy!!!” Inkdrop returned the shouting energy.

“I LOVE your hair!”

Inkdrop giggled and twirled one of her new dreadlocks “Thanks, I thought Pixel’s hair was neat so I decided to sport a new look!” As she said this she gestured to Pixel who was standing awkwardly behind her.

Pixel gave a little wave to Saph “Er, hello?”

“Oh! Hello! I’m Saprophyte Solstice! And who might you be?”

“Oh. Uh Pixel Pronoia.”

“Pronoia? Oh! Are you Arkina’s little sibling?”

At the sound of their sister’s name Pixel’s ears perked up “Yes! But uh-”

“Oh this isn’t your world’s Pixel!’ Inkdrop interrupted “This is a Pixel from another world.”

“Oh, okie dokie.” Saph said.

“And I actually came here because I’m not sure if I should trust them.”

“Ah gotcha,” Saph gestured for Inkdrop and Pixel to enter her room.

Her room was black with splashes of purple and pink. More doodles were taped all over the walls.

“I was kinda hoping you were here to play,” Saph said as she sat on the side of her bed.

“I know I’m sorry.”

“Next time you visit you should bring Cassia and we can have another adventure together!”

“Ok, ok I promise. Next time I visit we’ll do that.”

“Yay!” Saph turned to Pixel “Now I’m going to have to look into your Soul.”

She reached out toward Pixel’s chest and they took a step back “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What the fuck are you doing?”

“I have to touch your chest to see into your Soul.”

Pixel scowled “Oh fuck no.”

Saph rolled her eyes “Relax, it's not like I’m asking you to lift your shirt or anything. I just have to touch the spot where your heart is. That’s where the Soul is. Don’t make it weird.”

“Uh, how about no?”

“Then I'm not taking you to the Dragon Planet.” Inkdrop crossed her arms.

Pixel clenched their fists “Fine. Read my Soul or whatever the fuck.”

They winced as Saph placed her hand over their chest and closed her eyes. An uncomfortable silence followed, and then Saph gasped and yanked her hand back. Her eyes were wet with tears and she began to sob.

“Uh… Are you ok?” Pixel asked. In response Saph hugged them.

“You… You’re in so much pain.”

“Uh…”

“SHE KILLED YOUR GIRLFRIEND.” Saph shouted it at the top of her lungs, a combination of rage and sorrow.

“Y-yeah…” Saph’s reaction brought back a wave of emotion that Pixel thought they had buried. They crumpled to their knees and were now at the perfect level for Saph to wrap her arms around their shoulders. Tears now fell down Pixel’s own cheeks “Her… her name was Dana.”

Saph sniffled “That’s a beautiful name! I bet she was beautiful.”

“Y-yeah… She was. But she was more than just looks,” Pixel clutched their chest “She was the only one who ever saw anything in me.”

“W-well I just saw into your Soul, and I think you’re pretty great too,” Saph wiped away her tears and nodded to Inkdrop.

“Alright, if Saph trusts you, then so do I,” Inkdrop snapped her fingers creating another portal “Let’s take you to the dragon planet.”