#she gets really wrapped up in research and will hole herself up inside and forget to do basic things

[holytrickster]

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter seven  butterfly wings

I’m suffocating in here; wait until I grow wings.

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 9k warnings: mature language and themes series masterlist

The first time Mariposa held a gun, she was thirteen years old. She had found it inside of her father’s desk drawer, and when he found her holding onto it, instead of yelling at her, he taught her how to use it. He didn’t believe in shielding his daughter’s eyes from what he did or from what he knew. New York City was where she was born and raised, and she loved every part of it, but she learned from a young age that its streets weren’t forgiving. And at first, she didn’t use her skills to benefit the y/l/n family.  

No, at first, Mariposa ran on her own. With her father’s gun, she was paid to freelance. She was reckless, wild, and free, and it was how she made enough money to buy herself a Maserati when she turned eighteen. Mariposa was a princess, and she spent her money like it. She was naïve in the beginning, using her money for nothing but gold, diamonds, and leather purses. Mariposa adored the attention. Her father had always been away for work, leaving her with nannies that could never handle her, and her mother had left New York long ago, back to Cuba, for reasons her father wouldn’t give.

Mariposa was alone. For a long time, she only had herself to confide in. It was why she had latched onto you so quickly, and you to her. Mariposa rarely spent time with people her age, and you made her feel validated, alive, wanted. For once, someone was paying attention to her, really paying attention to her, and she loved you for that. She loved you for bringing out something inside of her that had been hidden for so long, just waiting to be found, aching to be found. Mariposa wasn’t a woman that was meant to be alone. She had so much love inside her heart, so much loyalty and strength, and she was so happy to use it all when it came to you. She came out of her shell completely, like a flowering bud that had yet to see the sun, and with you, she had bloomed to perfection.

You both laughed as you fell back onto the bed, littered with bundles of cash. Mariposa grabbed a handful of bills, throwing them up into the air, and you let out infectious giggles as the papers flew into the air, settling all around you, onto the bed, across the floor, tangled in each other’s hair.  

“That was incredible,” Mariposa breathed, rolling over onto her stomach to look at you. You stared up at the ceiling, your eyes sparkling with something hungry, and you grinned triumphantly, a light, airy feeling in your chest.  

“They didn’t even see us coming,” you recalled the few hours before, as you and Mariposa broke into a corporate building on Wall Street. You and Mariposa had just met a few people at a bar downtown, and the drunk boys wanted to show off their daddy’s money. They were long unconscious as you and Mariposa had grabbed bundles full of cash, throwing them into the back of a taxi, giving the driver a nice tip to keep him quiet. This wasn’t the first time you and Mariposa had used your talents to have fun. Ever since you had arrived a year earlier, you and Mariposa were always up to no good, playing with guns and money and each other.  

“They never see us coming,” Mariposa said softly, and you turned your head to look at her, a smile still ghosting your face. You reached up slowly, brushing a few of her curls away from her face, her sweet face almost angelic bathed in moonlight.  

“They never see us coming,” you echoed, and Mariposa leaned down, putting her forehead against yours. You let out a breathless laugh, your hand going into her hair, and she closed her eyes so you wouldn’t see the tears inside of them. Her heartbeat was erratic, pounding against her chest at the feeling of you so close, but she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t say anything. Her breaths were shaky as they left her parted lips, and there was nothing she could do but drink you in, take you in entirely, try and remember this moment forever and always.

Drunk on adrenaline, nothing but moonlight and stars, Mariposa’s heart had grown butterfly wings.

But it didn’t matter. She was too afraid to set it free. She was too afraid to see it fly.

And then you were gone.

Her father tried to send her to school, but Mariposa could never focus, it was always too easy. She excelled in everything she did, and by the time she was sixteen, she got bored of her father’s studious antics. She didn’t want to go to college. She didn’t want to dedicate her life to research or engineering or Wall Street, she wanted to stand in line with her father’s men and do everything they did. There was even a time when she snuck in on a job with them, and that was when her father finally let her into the business completely.  

Her father and a small team were infiltrating a garage in Chinatown. Mariposa had hopped into the back of one of the trucks they brought, hidden between boxes and equipment. Alone, like always, but Mariposa was sure of herself and what she could do.  

The only reason her father didn’t lose his life that night was because of her. His daughter was there, standing over him with her gun in hand, the barrel still smoking as he shoved the person off of him, bleeding from the hole in his head. Mariposa had the papers he needed in her teeth, and she helped him off the ground, handing it to him.  

“Mariposa, ¿y cómo hiciste todo esto?” Her father had been so baffled, taking the papers from her, looking down at it.  

“You guys make too much noise, papá,” she remembered saying, hugging him tightly. She had been afraid, of course she had, but when it came down to it, she would always deliver. That night, she didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, and her father couldn’t be prouder. “It would be so much easier if you just let me do it myself.”

Her father never underestimated her ever again. From that moment forward, his daughter was deeply involved in business, in deals, and insisted she started working with his men, polishing up all the skills she thought she had already mastered. Her father loved her more than anything. If this was her calling, he wouldn’t stop her. He wasn’t about to try, either; Mariposa was fierce, and telling her no would only have fueled the fire inside of her.

“So you were a little troublemaker?” Harrison raised a brow, and Mariposa scoffed, annoyed. She suspected Harrison had only listened to the parts of the story where she fell off the deep end, not being careful as she did job after job, all alone, all by herself for years.  

That’s what happens when you have broken wings. You forget how to use them, and they never heal.

“Stop it,” she said softly. “I just wanted in, Harri, you can understand that, can’t you?”

“I can, love, you know that,” Harrison looked in the mirror as he sprayed a bit of cologne on, watching as Mariposa sat up in bed, holding the sheets up to cover herself. She brushed her curls back, leaning back against the headboard. She was thinking about you a bit, how lost she was when you left in the middle of the night all those years ago. A piece of her had gone with you, but she would never admit it.

“Do we really have to go so soon?” Mariposa asked finally, and Harrison went towards the closet, taking out a navy-blue suit, putting it onto the bed. He reached into one of the drawers for a dress shirt, crisp and white, and he put it on. Mariposa slowly got out of bed, picking up the dress shirt that was thrown onto the floor the night before and put it on, buttoning it just a little. Harrison had his eyes on her almost immediately, not being able to keep them off of her.

“We do, Ri, you know how it is,” he said lowly, clearing his throat. “Tom’s got me on a bit of a leash right now.”

Mariposa got back on the bed, on her knees in front of him, and she helped him button his shirt up as he worked on fastening his cufflinks. He kept glancing at her through his eyelashes, the Cuban beauty never ceasing to dumbfound him. He adored mornings like this, the quiet, cold, early hours spent with her.

“Don’t be late tonight, Harri,” she reminded him, “it’s really important, okay? Y-You can’t be late, I’m serious, h-he hates it when people aren’t on time—”

“Ri,” Harrison interrupted her, chuckling. He leaned forward and kissed the side of her forehead, and she laid her head on his chest. “I know. I’m going to be there. I’ll pick you up at y/n’s place, right?”

Mariposa nodded, “yeah, that’s where I’ll be.”

“Well, come on then, love. Get dressed. I’ll drop you off.”

Mariposa was introducing Harrison to her father tonight. He had been asking for a long time for her to come home, and she kept insisting that she was doing important work for y/n. He asked for just dinner, and Mariposa couldn’t help but accept it, but when she did, she told him to set a place for two. Harrison had watched her talk on the phone in Spanish, oblivious to what she was doing, and when she had asked him to accompany her to dinner, Harrison didn’t hesitate to say yes.  

Mariposa was afraid for her father to meet him, but when she met Harrison’s eyes, there was nothing but relief in her. There was nothing for her to worry about. Harrison made everything alright, he made everything okay, and he would make tonight perfect.

Piece by piece, we put the broken parts back together.

Mariposa got off the bed, going to the closet and getting a pair of jeans and a shirt. She got dressed quickly, looking for her heels, and Harrison came out of the bathroom holding up the shoes for her. They were her favorite pair. Red bottoms, glittering with expensive crystals, and they were from Harrison. She smiled at him and went to retrieve them, and she squeaked as Harrison slid his hand down her backside, one hand going into the back pocket of her jeans and squeezing tightly.

Harrison leaned down and kissed her, holding her as close to him as he could. She dropped the heels onto the floor and wrapped her arms around his neck, closing her eyes as she kissed him back, giggles escaping her as he held her impossibly close. The mewls coming from her lips was everything to him, and he wished they could stay like this for hours just to hear her breathe and laugh on repeat, a tune he would never tire of hearing.

“Harrison, I love you,” Mariposa said softly between kisses. Harrison pulled away slowly at that, his brows furrowing a bit. Mariposa’s smile faded a bit, and she opened her eyes, looking up at him.

“What?”

“I…” Mariposa went pale. She pulled away from him abruptly, bending to grab her shoes off the ground. “Nothing.”

No, no, no.

Harrison grabbed her arm before she could move away, and she yanked out of his grip. She didn’t mean to act so childish, but she was mortified inside. She never said those words, not out loud. Mariposa was so afraid of being rejected, she swallowed her words most of the time, keeping them inside even if it tore her apart.

“No, Ri,” Harrison breathed, following her into the bathroom. She looked close to tears, but she was fighting them well. “Ri, did you say you love me?”

“No,” she muttered, sifting through the drawers to try and find a brush. “God, where did I put it?!”

Harrison grabbed her from behind, turning her to face him, “Ri, Ri, baby, stop!”

“What?!” Mariposa breathed weakly. “What? Do you want me to tell you yes? T-That I said I love you, b-but…but you don’t feel the same? What do you want me to say—”

“Darling,” he laughed a bit, “I love you. So fucking much. You just…you just caught me off guard, ‘s all.”

Mariposa looked up at him, letting a few tears fall.

Piece by piece, we build back what we lost.

“God, Harrison, what is wrong with you?” She hit his chest, hard, and he coughed a bit, stepping back. “Your girl says I love you, and you answer with what? You are so—ugh! ¿Por qué eres así, malparido?”

Harrison rubbed his chest a bit, reaching around her and opening another drawer, pulling out her hairbrush. He handed it to her, leaning over and kissing her forehead gently. The gesture was too sweet for her, and she couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

“I’m not an idiot, sweetheart, and you…you just surprised me,” he grinned cheekily, touching her chin. “The most beautiful woman in the world says she loves a bloke like me, what can I say?”

Set it free.

Mariposa sniffled, managing a smile, and she hugged him tightly, closing her eyes as she hid her face in his chest. Harrison wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her in warmth.

“I love you,” she said again, and Harrison rested his chin on top of her head.

“I love you more.”

Watch it fly.

Mariposa closed the door behind her, kicking her heels off. She put her purse down, padding into the kitchen of your apartment, sighing when she saw a fresh pot of coffee on the counter. She poured herself a cup, mixing it with her favorite cream and sugar. She liked her coffee sickly sweet.

When she made her way into the dining room, you were sitting there, in dark jeans and a long sleeve black shirt, your legs crossed to show off the heeled leather boots you were wearing. Your hair was a mess, but she noticed that you had painted your nails again, and all she could think was thank God.

There were papers spread across in front of you on the table and your laptop was open. The coffee mug was half full, and you had a pen and paper in your hands as you scribbled on top of it.  

“Hey,” Mariposa greeted you, and you looked up finally. You raised a brow as you noticed the purpling marks gathered along her neck.

“Hey,” you said back, laughing a bit. “Did you have a good morning?”

Mariposa moved her curls to try and cover them up, but you just smiled. She tried not to think about Harrison’s hands in her jeans inside the back of his car as she sat down beside you.

“What are you doing? This looks a mess,” Mariposa noted, looking at the papers. Spreadsheets and spreadsheets of gibberish to her, but you were focused, it all made sense to you in your head. You tapped the pen on the table absentmindedly.

“These are financial records for Tom’s shell companies,” you explained, pulling out another piece of paper. “I’m jumping some money around. He got a lot of cash in last night, and while I wait for his lackeys to cash the money in at the banks, I’m trying to move them around a bit. He’s on the FBI’s radar already, I don’t want to make it worse.”

“How do you know the FBI is watching?” Mariposa asked, laughing a bit. “There’s no way we have people in there.”

“It’s not rocket science to check the investigation files,” you snickered. “They’re stupid. They put everything on the internet these days.”

“y/n, are you serious?” Mariposa put the cup down. “Oh my God. Since when were you breaking into government agencies? And since when do you do work like this for Tom Holland?”

You laughed a bit, shaking your head, and you reached over to grab another piece of paper. Mariposa reached over and snatched your wrist up, bringing your left hand to her. There, on your ring finger, was Tom’s diamond band. You had never taken it off.

Mariposa’s heart dropped a bit inside of her. She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, but she was hurt.  

“What…” Mariposa looked at you. “y/n, what…what is this?”

You pulled your hand back slowly, twisting the band around your finger.

“We’re engaged,” you said simply, looking up at her. “I’m…Tom and I are getting married.”

Mariposa put her coffee down, and she scoffed a bit. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If you were planning on marrying Tom, surely you would’ve told her. Why wouldn’t you tell her?

“When were you planning on telling me that? Huh?” She looked hurt finally, her face falling. “Is this…is this for real?”

“Ri, you’ve been at Harrison’s beck and call for the past week, sorry, I just haven’t had the time to tell you,” you said, a bit bitter. Mariposa frowned.

“y/n, I’m just doing what you said.”

“I said to distract, Harrison,” you snapped. “I said, if it was necessary, to maybe even get laid. I never said for you to spend every waking moment with him.”

“You didn’t say anything—”

“Ri, now you’re the one that’s distracted,” you continued. “You’re…y-you’re constantly at their place in Jersey. You’re rarely in the city anymore, and when you are, it’s to do a job for Tom, and you’re always with Harrison anyway. And so you know what? For the past six fucking months, I’ve been doing everything on my own. So, yeah, I didn’t tell you I was getting engaged to Tom, but it’s not like you were here to notice anyways.”

Mariposa shook her head. She couldn’t really believe what she was hearing. Your voice was so bitter and heavy, and there was something else underneath the hard words. There was something else bothering you.

“W-Where is this coming from?” She asked. “W-Why are you suddenly so mad about it? Are you jealous or something?”

“I’m not jealous,” you scoffed, clenching your jaw. “That’s not it. I’m just pointing out that I think you’ve forgotten what the end goal is here. And I’m just warning you.”

That struck Mariposa hard. She stiffened in front of you. It sounded like a threat to her, and she didn’t like the way your eyes darkened as soon as you said it. There was always a barrier around you, but Mariposa could see right through it. Your words were scaring her, and the way your eyes shifted meant there was truth behind it.  

“Warning me of what?” Mariposa stood up. “What did you do?”

“I’m not going to be married for long, Ri, and I just need you to be ready for that,” you said simply.  

No, no, no.

“y/n, you said when we came here that we were going to…figure out what was going on in Brooklyn. That was it. You didn’t say anything about…about—”

“About what?” You demanded. “What did you think was going to happen, Ri? You thought I was going to come here and play dolls with Tom Holland? You thought I was going to…to let him threaten our family like that, and then get away with it? Are you serious?”

Mariposa couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She felt her knees a bit weak. She should’ve known that things were going too well. Things were so good, and they were too good to be true. Mariposa had been falling in love with someone else, and it blinded her to what was unraveling inside of you.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” She breathed. She came closer to you, and you stood up to face her, face-to-face. “What are you planning? What did you do?”

You pursed your lips, “We’re getting married Saturday night,” you said softly. “After my dad comes and sits down with him. They’re going to strike a deal, and then we’re going to get married.”

“And then?”

“And then I’m going to kill him,” you whispered, swallowing. “I’m going to—”

“Shut up,” Mariposa hissed. “Shut your fucking mouth, y/n. Don’t…don’t you dare.”

It felt different, to say it out loud. You didn’t know what you expected when you confessed to Mariposa where everything was going, but the clear, transparent look of betrayal in her face brought everything you were keeping inside up to your throat, scratching to come out. You kept yourself steady; you had a job to do.

I always finish the job.

“I’m going to take him for all he’s worth,” you continued, stepping closer to her. “And then I’m going to put a bullet through his head.”

Your voice was blank, unmoving, calm. That was what scared Mariposa the most, the undeniable composure of your entire being. She knew it was a mask, a terrible mask that she wanted to rip right off of you.

Mariposa’s chin quivered. “And…And Harrison? And Tom’s brothers? W-What about them?”

You shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know. Daddy hasn’t said—”

“Your dad?” Mariposa stepped back. “y/n, your dad is going to kill them. If Tom is gone, he’ll kill all of them.”

“You don’t know that,” you shook your head, and Mariposa laughed bitterly, because she thought maybe you truly couldn’t hear the words coming out of your mouth.

“Stop acting like a pendeja, y/n. If you kill Tom, your father will unload on all of them—” Mariposa’s voice caught in her throat. “y/n, he’ll kill Tom’s whole family. All of them. A-And…he’ll kill Harrison. Harrison, y/n, he’ll kill—”

“I told you to distract him,” you snapped. “I never said to fucking fall in love with him. That’s on you, Ri.”

Mariposa felt tears in her eyes. It felt like you had slapped her across the face. She didn’t recognize you. The emptiness inside of your eyes, the cruel calmness of your words, the way you held yourself like the truth wasn’t eating you up inside. Mariposa felt ashamed, ashamed for thinking that you could do any better than complete betrayal.  

She stabbed me in the back once before. Why am I surprised?

“What is the matter with you?” Mariposa asked weakly. “How could you say something like that? H-How could you…y/n, this isn’t right. We were just s-supposed to find out information, n-no one said anything about—”

“That was your job,” you interrupted her. “I had a different one. You’re not stupid, either, Ri. Did you really think I was just going to come here and play house with Tom? Ri, we used to run this fucking city, and they took that from us. Don’t you want it back?”

Mariposa wiped the tears under her eyes. Long ago, when Mariposa was alone with broken wings, perhaps she would’ve wanted that. Maybe she would’ve even let Harrison have her just to turn her back on him in the end. Mariposa used to be empty, too, and you had turned her black and blue inside. But things had changed. For six months, Harrison had been picking up the parts of her she had lost in you, and when he couldn’t find something that fit, he fixed her up with pieces of himself.  

Mariposa had been hanging on by her fingertips, and Harrison had picked her back up. She always, always wanted it to be you, but it couldn’t be. It was never meant to be you.

“No,” she admitted. “Not if it means killing Harrison. I-I won’t let you do this, y/n. I won’t.”

Mariposa stood up straight, and you glanced down as you watched her reach for her gun. You didn’t move as she slipped it out of the back of her jeans, holding it up to you. You kept your face calm, but there was fear in you. Mariposa was in love.  

And I have no idea how far she will go for love.

“I won’t let you go through with this,” she hissed through angry tears. “You’re not killing anyone. No one’s fucking dying, y/n, and if you want to get to Tom, you’ll have to get through me first.”

“Ri,” you said slowly, narrowing your eyes. “Put it down. You’re not going to shoot me.”

“Oh, really?!” She cried, putting both hands on the gun now. “You have no idea what I’d do for Harrison. You have no idea!”

“What has he done for you that I haven’t?” You scoffed. You stepped closer to her, but she didn’t lower the gun. She kept it aimed at your head, tears on her face as she held it up. “Huh? Ri, I’ve been there since day one! You’ve known Harrison for what? Six months? Six months of you two fucking each other doesn’t come close to the amount of time we’ve spent together. When we met, Ri, we were two scared little girls, and because of me, look at where you are.” You gestured to her clothes. “Look at you! I made you! Before me, you were just scared a-and alone! And because of me—”

“Because of you?” She scoffed, sniffling. Her hands were starting to shake, but she steeled herself, gripping the handle tight. “y/n, what the fuck have you done for me lately? You showed up here…when we were kids, and…and you made me believe you were here to stay. I loved you, y/n, and you just…you just left!”

Piece by piece, take me apart.

You clenched your jaw, “Ri, you know why I had to leave—”

“But you didn’t come back!” She interrupted you, her voice breaking. “Y-You left me here. All by myself. Y-You came, and you made me believe every fucking thing that came out of your mouth, and then you left. You didn’t even call. You’re just a liar, y/n! You’re a sad, manipulative, piece of mierda. And you did it again. You came back, y-you…you took advantage of me, and now you want me to go along with this plan of yours?”

You shook your head a bit, “Ri, don’t say that. I do love you.”

Scatter me around.

“No, you don’t!” Mariposa cried, shaking her head. “If you loved me, you’d bury this plan of yours! You wouldn’t put the people I love in danger! Harrison would never do this to me. If Tom asked him to do something that would fucking kill me, he’d throw in the towel. And I can count on him for that. Don’t make me do this, y/n.”

“You’re not going to shoot me, Ri, so just stop,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “I do love you. Don’t say that. Don’t…don’t try and make what we had something that it wasn’t. I do love you.”

“I needed you,” she sniffled, keeping her grip on the gun, her finger sliding onto the trigger. You stood up straight at that. “I needed you, and you weren’t there. Harrison? Harrison tucks me in at night. He kisses me goodbye. H-He takes care of me, and he never lies to me. He doesn’t leave the bed in the middle of the night, and h-he always tells me when he’s going to come back. And he’s my best friend.”

Piece by piece, put me back together.

“I’m your best friend,” you said lowly.  

“You were. You were my best friend, until you took it upon yourself to fuck me over, and fuck over the people I love,” Mariposa croaked. “And you know what, y/n? It’s not just me you’ve lied to. You’ve lied to everyone, but especially yourself.”

You frowned. “Ri, you’re mistaken. All of this? What I’m doing? It’s good for us. I-I’m sick and tired of men telling me what to do. I’m…I’m so tired of proving myself to people that will never learn!” You cried. “These people, Ri? They don’t care w-what we can do! They don’t care who we are! Because at the end of the day, we’re just girls, and they’ll never understand! We have to take it from them, and if people have to die for me to climb that fucking ladder, then so be it! I’m glad!” You laughed bitterly. “I’m so fucking glad!”

“You don’t mean that,” Mariposa said softly, her eyes red. “You’re still lying to yourself, even now, even when I just might fucking kill you.”

“I’m not—”

“You love him,” Mariposa said painfully. “You love Tom, and when it comes time for you to execute this master plan of yours, you won’t be able to. You’ll never be able to pull the trigger, and deep down, you know it.”

You uncrossed your arms, stepping even close, the barrel of her gun on your chest now, touching you. You swallowed down every true word in your throat, forced it down inside of you. The truth didn’t matter, it would never matter, it couldn’t matter. This was business, and there was so romance in business. There was just a plan, an execution, and a reward.  

“I don’t love him,” you spat. “Unlike you, I didn’t spend every waking moment trying to fill the…the fucking emptiness inside of me with him. Tom is a means to an end. I want what he has.”

Mariposa laughed, shaking her head. “You’re lying to yourself. You love him. I see the way you look at him, y/n.”

Set it free.

“The way I look at him?” You scoffed. “You know, that’s fucking pathetic, Ri.”

“It’s written all over your goddamn face, y/n!” Mariposa bit back.  

“And how the hell would you know?” You sneered.

Watch it fly.

“Because!” Mariposa’s voice quivered. “Because…because that’s the way I used to look at you, y/n. And…I-It’s…it’s the way you used to look at me.”

You closed your mouth at that, and Mariposa finally, slowly, lowered the gun. The tears were dropping down her face fast, and she wiped her nose, sniffling, just staring at you hopelessly. There was defeat crawling over her skin, and she breathed it in shakily. The truth was the only thing that could save you, and she was prepared to use it as a weapon.  

Drunk on adrenaline.

“You look at him like that, y/n,” Mariposa whimpered. “But this time, your eyes don’t…they don’t wander. You love him, y/n, and…and if you go through with this, you will…you will never forgive yourself. And I…I won’t forgive you.”

Mariposa put the gun away, and you stopped her, putting your hands on her shoulders.  

“Ri, don’t…please don’t do this,” you whispered.  

“y/n, you did this to yourself,” Mariposa struggled to get out. “You weren’t honest with me. You let me live in this fucking fantasy. And now you…you want to take it away from me? Take it away from yourself? We…we were happy. No jodas, no conmigo.”

“Ri, please,” you begged. “I can’t do this without you.”

Mariposa shook her head. “Admit it,” she breathed. “Admit that you love Tom. Admit that you have your head so far in the fucking sand, and admit that you love him.”

Nothing but moonlight and stars.

“And if I do?” You scoffed. “W-What does it matter? What does it matter if I do?”

“Because you can still change the way this goes, there’s still time,” Mariposa whispered. “There’s still time to change the narrative, y/n. You love him. More than you’ve ever loved anyone else…including me.”

You had your own tears coming, but you tried to swallow them down.

“Ri, I can’t do that,” you sniffled. “If I go back on my word, my dad…Ri, he’ll never give me what I want. And God, dammit, he’s finally giving me the chance. The chance I never got, you know what that means to me, Ri. He’s been hinting for years that he wants to marry me off to that same prick he always talks about, and I’m…I can’t let him do that, Ri. Because if I fail here, if Tom doesn’t give me what he has, if I come home empty-handed…I’m signing my life away right then.”

Mariposa wrapped her arms around you, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Her arms were the only thing keeping you together, and you fell into them. They were warm and inviting, and Mariposa was the only person who could understand the panic inside of you.  

The need to fulfill shoes that weren’t meant for me, the ache to prove myself, the things I would do for just one chance.

“He’ll understand,” Mariposa whispered in your ear after a few moments. “He won’t hate you. He loves you, too.”

“Ri, he’ll kill me,” you sobbed into her neck, hiding your face. “If my father doesn’t do it first, he will.”

Mariposa pulled back just a bit, wiping the tears from your face. You were blinded by desire, so blinded that you couldn’t even see the signs. She pitied you, but she tried not to show it.  

“He won’t,” she murmured. “Tom is many things. He’s a liar, yeah, and he’s…he’s been lying to us this whole time. But did you ever think he might just be stalling? Because he wants you to stay?”

You shook your head, “no. Remember when I thought that Tom was behind our problems in Brooklyn?”

“And wasn’t he?”

“No,” you shook your head again. “It wasn’t him. I think he thought it was some of his lackeys, you know, screwing up, but it wasn’t them. It’s someone else. There’s someone else fucking things up for my father, and I guess…I’ve just been using Tom to find out more information, but he’s come up empty every time. Harrison couldn’t figure it out, his brothers couldn’t figure out, and my father is here already, and I know he’s going to want answers, Ri. And I have nothing for him. I have no idea what’s going on. I’m losing, okay? So if I don’t take whatever Tom is worth, then I have nothing to show for what I’ve been doing here in New York, and I will lose.”

Mariposa took your hand and brought you to sit.  

“Can I tell you something, y/n?” She asked, squeezing your hands in hers. “Something my dad told me earlier this week. Something I think you need to hear.”

You nodded, and she played with your fingers. The silence between you was welcome now.  

“You’ve been in New York for a while now,” Mariposa said softly. “Long enough to meet a lot of your father’s men out here. My father’s men. And you know what they say?” You looked up at her. “They adore you, y/n. You’re not…hotheaded or cruel. You rule with an iron fist sometimes, but you care about people. And you…you join them, you don’t just give out orders, you get your hands dirty alongside them. And for that, they’re grateful.”

“What…What are you saying?” You asked.

“That men don’t have power if no one is listening to them,” Mariposa continued. “Your father’s position means jack shit if none of his men do as he says. As far as I’m concerned, you could sit in his chair any day now, and no one would object to that. No one would stand up to you. You’re not like your father, and you…you don’t need his approval. You never have. You’ve always been better than him. He’s been holding you back, y/n, but with Tom? You are unstoppable. Because Tom might put on a mask that looks like your father, but let me tell you something, y/n.”

You sniffled as she grabbed your face with both hands, pulling you close to her.

“Tom is weak in the fucking knees for you,” she said breathlessly. “And no matter what you throw his way, he will never push you away. He will never push you aside. He will never, ever hurt you. We have to tell them the truth, y/n.”

You shook your head adamantly, but Mariposa nodded. The truth scared you. It scared you before, it scared you now, and it would scare you forever. The truth dug holes in front of you, and you knew it was waiting to laugh when you fell right in, laughing until it would cover you whole and never let you breathe. The truth suffocated you.

So how can it save me?

“We have to tell them, y/n,” Mariposa brushed your hair out of your eyes, her thumbs wiping away the tears that fell. “Please, y/n. It’s okay to admit that…that we fell for those two pendejos.”

You both laughed through your tears, and Mariposa hugged you tight to her.

“It’s okay,” Mariposa breathed. “Tonight. Tonight, we’re going to…we’re going to tell them everything, y/n. We’re going to put all the cards out on the table.”

“I’m scared.”

“Me, too,” Mariposa shook her head. “But we’re going to do it together.”

“Together,” you echoed, and Mariposa leaned her forehead against yours. And you held onto her tightly, because you thought if you let go of her, you might just break.

You stared up at the door, not really knowing what to feel. You had been here many times before, but standing here now, it felt like it was the first time you were stepping inside.  

Because everything that happens after this will change.

The double doors opened for you, and your boots were the only sound echoing along the tiled floors as you made your way down the hall. In the living room sat Tom and his brothers, Harrison not in sight, and they were playing cards around the coffee table, liquor and stubbed out cigarettes littered around them.  

And I might not come out of this alive.

“Tom,” you called out his name, and he turned his head, his eyes brightening a bit when he saw it was you. He put out the cigarette between his fingers and got up off the couch, coming to greet you.  

“Aye, love, what are you doing here?” Tom asked, cupping the back of your neck and kissing your forehead. “I thought we were supposed to meet in the morning.”

You took his hand in yours, leaning up so your lips were against his ear. “I have…we have to talk, Tom. A-Alone. Please.”

He brushed your hair away from your eyes, scanning the worried look on your face. He nodded slowly. You sounded anxious, and he noticed your hands fidgeting. He had never seen you quite like this, and he brought your close to him to shield you from his brothers.

“Alright. Alright, darling, come,” Tom put a hand on your back, guiding you towards the stairs. “My study, yeah?”

You nodded. You climbed the stairs nervously, your palms starting to sweat as he brought you into his office, closing the door behind you. Tom shrugged his suit jacket off, rolling his neck out as he went to the bar cart to pour himself something to drink. It was something familiar to him and comforting, and he suspected whatever you were going to say was going to be serious.  

“What’s on your mind, m’love?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink. Tom ran a hand through his hair before turning around, and he swallowed the alcohol on his tongue hard. You stood there, your eyes red, tears threatening to fall. “y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Tom,” you said slowly. You came towards him, taking his free hand in yours. Your voice came out strained a bit, as if your throat was dry. “Tom, when I…when I first came here, I had no idea what…what I was getting into. You were…exactly the man I thought you were going to be. You were…you were stupid. And cruel. And you underestimated me at every turn.”

Tom scoffed a bit, tilting his head to the side, confused, “aye. But, I didn’t know you.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you didn’t. But I had my mind made up when I came here. I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to trust you. I just needed you because I needed to find out what was going on in Brooklyn, but…but Tom, I haven’t been telling you the truth.”

Tom pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Brooklyn. The missing cash,” you whispered. “My men in Brooklyn told me that it was you. And…and that there were Holland lackeys all over downtown.”

Tom stiffened a bit, letting out a breath through his nose. He pulled his hand away from yours, starting to walk towards his desk. You couldn’t read him, not yet.

“So you came thinking it was me that fucked with your shipment in Brooklyn, eh?” Tom put his glass down hard on his desk, turning around to face you. You slowly made your way to his desk, standing on the other side of it. “Well, it wasn’t me. So what the fuck were you doing here?”

We are all liars here.

“You thought it was you, too, Tom,” you shot back. “I remembered. The night you said you had something for me. It wasn’t the Russians, but it was supposed to be, wasn’t it?” You tilted your head to the side. “Yeah. You’ve been lying to me, too, Tom.”

You and Tom met eyes, staring at each other with hard glares. You swallowed your tears down quickly, standing up on two feet solidly. You refused to let him make you feel any less. You were both alone and broken inside. You wouldn’t let him stand on a pedestal.  

We have all been taken apart. I don’t care how well you wear your second skin.

You knew that you were both naked from the inside out now. There was no more pretending. Mariposa had reminded you today that you were not a machine. You were not made of metal and wire, you were made of skin and bones, and those bones ached to be loved. The struggle of being alone was always fighting to not be lonely, and for the past six months, you were not lonely. Tom always had something smart to say, but behind closed doors and in darkness, Tom had breathed life into you.  

It didn’t matter why you came to New York anymore, not to you. The city had changed you. Mariposa had showed you a world where feeling and life could exist, and Tom had showed you that the fires inside of you weren’t caused by being queen, they were caused by something real and burning and ignited by human touch, his touch.  

Mariposa taught you how to be human; Tom taught you how to live.

“So,” Tom said lowly, his voice no more than a growl. “When was it that you decided you were going to kill me?”

You rolled your fingers out beside you, and Tom glanced briefly at them, anticipating you to reach for the gun he had seen in the back of your jeans.  

“After we met,” you finally said. “I wasn’t sure what I wanted before I came to New York. And then we met. And…I decided then.”

The room was eerily quiet. You could hear Tom’s heavy breaths, but neither of you dared to move, just staring at each other, not knowing what to feel or really what to say. You saw conflict in Tom’s eyes.

I thought I was yours, and you were mine.

Six months had done a lot to you. You had been training your whole life for it, and here you were, six months of accomplishment and success under your belt, but you weren’t smiling. This didn’t feel like success, you weren’t proud of any of it. You had been pretending for so long, and you had no idea what it was like to not pretend.  

I can’t tell what’s real. I can’t tell what’s mine and what’s yours, and I don’t know which pieces on the floor are from me and which are from you.

“When did you decide you would take everything from me?” You asked softly. Tom’s eyes moved down your body for a moment, coming back to your face.

“After you decided to work for me,” Tom said lowly. “At your initiation.”

“And what were you planning to do?”

“Marry you.”

Your lip curled up a bit, in a bitter attempt to laugh. You and Tom were so alike, it was terrifying. You saw yourself in him, even more so now that you had stopped holding up the lies you had held up for so long. Vulnerable, transparent, and defeated, you saw yourself in him now more than ever, and you just hoped he thought the same.

“You said once that we were…one and the same,” you said softly. “Two sides of the same coin. You said…” You looked down, “that when I finally realized it, I wouldn’t be able to stop what would happen between us.”

Tom said nothing still, but his lip twitched a bit at that.  

Fear, hate, then love, all at once, all at the same time.

“Did you mean that?” You asked, breathless, and Tom pursed his lips when he noticed the slight quiver in your voice.  

“Aye,” he muttered, licking his dry lips angrily, “and I thought what it was going to be was—” He scoffed, “something different.”

Something better.

“Love,” you filled in the blanks. “You thought I’d fall for you.”

Tom answered with nothing but silence, a dark expression coming over his handsome features. He should’ve known that everything about you was too good to be true. He should’ve known that the absolute perfection of your smile and your touch and the way you seemed to look at him and not through him was all but playing pretend.  

But sometimes we play along, even if we know the truth. Sometimes we play along because the lie feels so much better than the truth, and we just want to hold on for as long as we can.

“We’re not children, Tom,” you murmured. “You’ve got an empire to rule. And so do I. Love isn’t…we don’t get to have those kind of luxuries. We…people like us? We spend…forever to trying to fill the fucking void. And we never will be able to. It doesn’t matter…what we feel. People like us are meant to be alone, Tom. That’s just how it is.”

“So how does it end?” Tom took a seat in his chair, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “Are you going to kill me here, where I sit?”

“Are you?” You retorted.  

“It’s three against one,” Tom narrowed his eyes. “My brothers are close by.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “But it’s not them I’m worried about.”

“Oh, no? And why not?”

“Because with them, I wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger,” you admitted. “With you, I can’t say the same.”

It happened in slow motion to you. You noticed Tom’s hand lower, underneath his desk, and your hand grabbed the handle of the gun tucked into the back of your jeans. You both held them up at the same time, yours pointed to his forehead and his pointed right at your heart.  

“And no matter what you throw his way, he will never push you away.”

Your hand shook a bit, staring right at him. Your finger fell onto the trigger, holding it tight. You palm was sweaty, and the metal felt slippery in your hand; the gun had never felt heavier, but you didn’t lower it. Tom pulled the chamber back, standing up to your level, and you couldn’t stop staring into those eyes. Those eyes you adored, the eyes you had adored for so long, and now you couldn’t see anything but hatred inside of them.  

“He will never push you aside.”

“Do it,” you croaked, finally letting the tears fall. “Do it, Tom. Do it, you coward.”

Tom’s lips twitched again, and he sucked in a deep breath, but you could hear how shaky it was. His gun never moved, but you could tell there was something inside of him fighting to break through. You only saw it come through when you lowered your own gun.

Now it was just him, standing there alone, the only one that held power in a room of nothingness. It was easy to want to kill you when you pointed death right back at him, but he was afraid of holding loss on his own. He wanted to kill you, he wished he could feel that kind of hatred and hurt inside of him. He wanted this to be easy, like it always was. Killing was always so easy, and in this room, he had done it before; spreading blood across its walls, the familiar sound of when the body hit the ground.

Seeing stars in their eyes, true moonlight, until there was nothing left but nothingness.

“No,” Tom said lowly. He needed you to want to kill him. He needed you to hold that gun up and not let go of it. “Don’t fucking do that. Don’t do that!”

You emptied the magazine from your gun, tossing it onto the floor. You emptied the chamber in your gun by pulling it back, and the only bullet loaded inside of it clattered onto the floor. Tom struggled to hold the gun up to you still, but he held it there, pointing at your head now.

“Put it back up,” Tom’s voice cracked. “Put it back!”

“He will never, ever hurt you.”

You made your way around the desk, and Tom’s aim followed you, but now it was the first time you saw the gun shake even just the slightest. You came even closer, so close that the barrel of the gun touched your forehead. This was the second time someone had raised a gun to you today, and while you were afraid before because of love, now, you were completely calm for the same reason.

Because I know what you’ll do for love, Tommy.

“Do it, Tom,” you said again, barely above a whisper. “Do it.”

With one hand, Tom reached over and tangled one hand into your hair, forcing your head back. You let out a breath as he pressed the gun to your temple harshly, forcing the metal into the softness of your skin. His grip on your hair was tight, pulling on it, but you didn’t do anything but look up at him with wide, teary eyes.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” Tom hissed through gritted teeth. There was struggle in his eyes, fear inside of them. You had never seen it before, but his eyes were glittering with it. “Why aren’t you fucking scared?!”

You laughed a bit through your tears.

“We have to tell them the truth, y/n.”

“Because it’s you, Tommy,” you whispered weakly. “And it’s always been you.”

Tom scrunched his face up as he dug the barrel of the gun into the side of your head, pulling as tight as he could on your hair. You did nothing, and the lack of fight in you was chilling. It was so unlike you, to give up, to stop trying, but here you were, nothing but something broken. The worst part was how content you were. Head tipped back, your breaths were gentle and even, and your eyes were wide and bright. There was nothing but absolute comfort in the softness of your expression. You had a loaded gun to your head, but Tom had never seen you so at ease.  

“Fuck!” Tom cried. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

You met his eyes again, and the fear in them only grew. You closed them when you felt the gun leave the side of your head, and your lips parted as you heard the gun rattle as it fell onto the floor. There was silence for a few moments before you felt his lips against your own, his free hand touching the place where the gun used to be, touching it delicately. You could feel his hands shaking as they held your face, and you ached inside when you felt his own tears fall onto the apples of your cheeks.

For love, you’ll do nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“I can’t,” Tom whispered. “I-I just can’t. I can’t do it.”

You put your hands over his on your cheeks, opening your eyes finally. Tom had just a few tears that had surfaced, but he was good at keeping them inside. But it was enough to know you had broken him down. Tom had had those walls up for so long, and it was difficult to see that this was him. This was Tom, in all of his pain and misery and emptiness, this was him.  

“What do we do, Tom?” You asked in a shaky voice, and he rubbed the pads of his thumbs across your cheeks, wiping your tears. “What do we do?”

That question, this time, made Tom’s breath catch in his throat. It was the first time that you were asking him for help, real help, because you had nowhere else to go. There was nowhere to run, no one waiting for you on the other side. Without Tom, you were completely, selflessly, utterly alone. The loneliness you had been trying for so long to chase away was crawling its way back to you, and God, did it have claws in your skin. You were bleeding from the inside out, and no one could ever know how to fix you except for him.

“You know who I am,” Tom said in a cracked voice. “And I know you.”

You leaned your forehead against his.  

No more pretending. No more lies. Everything is up in smoke.  

“I’m yours, Tom,” you whispered. “And…and you’re mine.”

Take me apart.

“Your father,” Tom licked his lips. “Was he ever going to make a deal with me?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “But it…it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to ask us to get married right away,” you explained. “He’s going to say it’s because he wants to ensure his end of the deal, but he’s not planning on you seeing Sunday morning, Tom.”

Tom grabbed your face tightly, the way you adored, the way that made you feel whole.

Put me back together.

“Are you going to do this with me, y/n?” Tom asked through his teeth. “Are you fucking with me?”

Set it free.

“Until death do we part,” you promised.

Watch it fly.

read chapter eight

[drabbles-of-writing]

Happy Birthday (pt 2)

This is part of my Four Years AU

AO3

Masterpost 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

It was October thirteenth.

Luz’s first birthday without her mother.

She hadn’t told anyone what today was. She had mentioned it before, during the summer. But Eda and King weren’t known to be the best at remembering something so small from a single conversation.

They were already worried about her, it would only make things worse to remind them.

She saw the worried glances Eda and King gave her. Even Lilith looked concerned. Luz assured them she was fine before she holed up back in the library and, later, her room. Which she had made into makeshift into a study area.

Just because it was her birthday didn’t mean she had to stop trying. Even if it was her quinceañera.

‘Mamá must be worried.’ Her mind murmured.

‘She probably thinks you ran away.’ Added a snicker from the back of her mind. ‘She must think you hate her.’

Luz shook her head and hunched back over her papers. This wasn’t the time to mope and worry. This was the time for research! Even the words ran off the pages and her mind kept wandering.

‘You shouldn’t have gone through that door.’ Her thoughts spoke up again. ‘How bad could a reality check camp be, really? Would you really rather spend an eternity here, where your madre will never know if you're alive or dead?’

“Will you be quiet?” Luz snapped to no one.

‘Look at you,’ Her mind sneered back. ‘Talking to yourself. Maybe you did need that summer camp.’

Luz groaned and thunked her head on her desk, hands collapsing behind her neck. How was she supposed to work under these conditions?

She should’ve asked Gus to research with her. Out of all her friends, he was by far the most willing to spend all-nighters reading and searching for anything human. Any single link to the human realm.

This wasn’t to say Willow and Amity didn’t help her. They did, plenty of times. But it was always Gus she could call at two in the morning and ask to travel with her to some long-forgotten ruin on the slim chance it had even a sentence of human language on its stones. Amity was definitely a close second.

Everyone had tried. Even before the summer was over they had tried. Luz still beat herself up about not searching harder when she didn’t have to worry about her madre thinking she was lost somewhere. Every day that ticked by didn’t seem to bring her any closer to making it home.

The first week when summer vacation was over was horrible. Luz barely got any sleep and practically tore the library apart looking for any book on the human realm. She had crashed on the fifth day and slept all of the sixth. While she slept, her friends had taken up researching for her. Even Eda and King. Well, King tried. He couldn’t read all that well, but Lilith was happy to help.

Luz tried to at least get a few hours of sleep each day now. She still had bags under her eyes and her footsteps still dragged, but at least she wasn’t about to collapse anymore.

‘Mamá would tell you to go to sleep.’

Luz lifted her head and looked towards the window. It had originally been a hole in the wall courtesy of one of her recent adventures, so Eda had turned it into a wonky window instead of bothering to fix it up.

It was dusk. How had time gone by so fast?

Luz dug around in her desk for her glyphs and pulled out her light spell. She tapped the paper and it transformed into a small ball of light. She let it float next to her for a moment, simply watching it.

“She would like this spell.” Luz said to herself. “It doesn’t cost any bills to keep up.”

She almost laughed at her own joke. Almost.

‘Yeah, like she’d be proud of anything you did here.’

Luz sighed and turned back to the pages spread out before her. She stared blankly for a few moments, repeatedly telling herself to focus and failing to do so.

Then her bedroom door slammed open.

“LUZ!” King cried.

Luz yelped and shot backwards, tumbling out of her chair and hitting the wooden floor.

King winced and scurried over to where she lay, giving her a nervous look.

“Eh heh, sorry…”

“King! Don’t scare me like that!” Luz scolded, sitting up and rubbing her head.

“Sorry, but it’s important!” King said, waving his little arms. “Come on, come on!”

“Is something wrong?” Luz worried, standing up as King tugged on her cape.

“Well, no,” King said, still pulling her out of her room. “But it’s still important!”

Luz, more confused than ever, followed King as he finally let go of her cape and scampered down the stairs, practically shaking with excitement.

A part of Luz was expecting some prank he and Hooty had concocted. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for them these days.

Luz wandered down the stairs as King skittered towards the living room. She heard murmuring and frowned, slowing her steps until she was right by the doorway and peeked her head in, one hand resting on the doorframe.

Willow, Gus and Amity were sitting on the floor around the couch. They had pushed a table up in front of it. A cake sat on the table, and Amity was currently trying to stick in a candle shaped like a five next to the one shaped like a one, though was clearly having trouble as the candle was made of something very squirmy and kept shifting into something that looked more like a weird S.

Gus was trying to help contain the candle as Willow looked on with concern, holding a small square lidded box in her lap.

Eda and Lilith were sitting on the couch directing Gus and Amity with little success. As Lilith was also dealing with Hooty continuously bugging her with questions or whatever he ate outside that day.

King had just arrived and was now climbing onto the table, promptly freaking out everyone else who clearly didn’t expect him to be back so soon.

“Guys…?” Luz blinked, taking a step into the room.

Everyone's heads whirled around to her, none of them having expected her to make it downstairs faster than they anticipated.

Hooty, as per usual, was the first to break the silence.

“Hi, Luz!” He greeted. “We made a cake!”

“You didn’t do anything!” Lilith snapped. “All you did was be a lookout. A very lousy one, at that!”

“Hey! I deserve credit for doing something!”

“What...is all this?” Luz asked, deciding it was better to cut in before Lilith and Hooty started arguing again.

“What does it look like, kid?” Eda snorted, snatching the five candle from Amity and sharply sticking it into the cake, making it lopsided and causing clear distress to Amity’s OCD.

“This is what human birthdays look like, right?” Gus worried, sitting upright and putting his hands on the table. “Was there supposed to be streamers? I knew we should’ve gotten streamers,” He grumbled.

“No, no, it’s just…” Luz looked over everyone before her eyes landed on Eda and King, who had hopped onto the couch beside her.

“You...remembered?” She asked quietly.

“Of course we did! The King of Demons never forgets!” King said proudly.

“Yesterday you forgot that you drank your own apple blood and threw a fit because you thought someone else drank it.” Amity deadpanned.

“That was one time!”

“Happy birthday, Luz.” Willow said, gesturing for her to sit down and setting the small box on the table.

Luz slowly walked towards the table, sitting on her knees at the end of the table. Still stunned, she slid the gift closer to her and pulled off the lid.

Inside it was a book. It was dark blue with golden lining along the edges. It’s title in gold cursive read; Glyph Spells & Other Written Magic .

“Thought you could use one of those,” Willow said casually. “Since you’ve got your own students to teach now.”

“We all pitched in for it,” Eda said gleefully.

Amity gave the witch a very pointed glare. One that Eda sighed in response to.

“Alright, we all pitched in to look for it. Little Miss Rich over here paid for it.” She relented, pointing a thumb towards the girl.

“I tasted it!” Hooty added happily. “It tastes like old dust and death.”

Luz carefully lifted the book out of the box. It seemed like well-kept book. Though the frantic scratches among the cover here and there proved that it had likely been quickly cleaned before placed in the box. The pages were yellow and crinkled, and there was the occasional stain or tear. But overall, it wasn’t unreadable.

“Do you…” Amity swallowed. “Like it?”

Luz kept her eyes on the book for a few quiet seconds. She pulled the book close to her chest and lifted her head, trying and failing to fight back the tears welling in her eyes.

“I love it.” She said hoarsely, a wide smile stretched across her face.

Everyone in the room visibly relaxed, shoulders sagging.

“Does this mean we can have cake now?” King asked, impatiently tugging on Eda’s dress. “I’m starving!”

“Nope!” Hooty chirped, his head popped up beside Luz and startled her. “It’s group hug time!”

“Wait, wait, Hooty NO--!”

Hooty was faster than any of them could react and wrapped around them all, pulling them into a tight ball with Luz squished in the middle.

“A little more warning next time?” Gus wheezed from where he was currently being suffocated by the insistent bird tube.

“The cake!” Willow exclaimed.

Everyone craned their necks downwards towards the table.

Sure enough, amongst the struggle to get everyone in a circle, the cake had been knocked off the table and onto the floor, completely smashed against the carpet.

Everyone stared at it for a few moments.

“Floor cake!” King exclaimed. “The best kind of food!”

Nobody knew who laughed first, but it wasn’t long before everyone had smiles on their faces. Now, it didn’t seem to matter how human they made her party.

“Thanks, guys.” Luz said once she’d calmed down. “I...I think I needed this.”

“Any time, Luz.” Eda smiled.

Luz giggled and looked towards the stained windows of the Owl House. She could already hear Lilith and King arguing with Hooty again, probably to put them down, but it was tuned out.

The sky was completely dark now. And though the sky back home looked different than in the Boiling Isles, Luz couldn’t help but wonder if her mom was looking up at the stars, too.

She glanced back to her friends, still not processing any of the arguments or conversations they were having as they tried to free themselves from Hooty.

Yeah, she’d be okay.

Luz smiled and relaxed. Even if her mom didn’t know where she was, Luz could at least rest assured that she’d make it home, eventually. And she’d have real friends helping her out.

‘Keep that light on until I get there, mamá.’ She silently asked.

‘Te veré pronto.’

[themangledsans0508]

Entering the Dungeon because Bonnie said so

Read on Ao3

Summary: Marceline came to Bonnie's aide when she called for Finn and Jake. She didn't expect to be going down a hundred floors while dealing with a shady princess.

Basically, I played Enter the Dungeon over the past two weeks and I have been writing this since the second night of playtime. Trying to write things before I forget them and it is following the canon of the game with some creative liabilities taken.

Words: 3616, Oneshot

Warnings: General Depictions of Violence

Characters: Bonnibel Bubblegum, Marceline Abadeer, Flame Princess

Ships: bubbline

Additional Tags: quests, dungeons, childhood trauma, swearing, adventure, conflict, kind of resolved kind of not, I feel like marcy and phoebe would have a neat dynamic, I've never seen them interact so, some of these scenes were legit my reaction, see: screaming

"Well, it looks like Ice King will be hanging around the Candy Kingdom now," Bonnie sighed. Marceline glanced at the dark entrance to the dungeon and shrugged.

"It's better than down there. At least up here, he can't get hurt," she decided. Bonnie looked at the hole as well and then back to Marceline.

"Marcy, I think you should let the boys handle this one," she stated seriously. Marceline shifted the umbrella in her grip and unfolded her legs to touch the ground.

"Why? I'll be fine."

"Well, asides from the fact that you have been returning up here frequently covered in wounds and the fact that Death is seemingly hunting you down, those aren't just any ancient ruins down there."

"How bad can it be?"

"Mushroom war. If my associations are correct from the information you've given me, then the same city you used to live in” Marceline stiffened. "Finn and Jake can deal with this, you just take a breather, okay?"

"No," Marceline shook her head. "I can take care of it. Just some old relics, nothing a woman like me can't face." Bonnie eyed her warily.

"If you're sure," she said slowly. "Please be careful."

"Send me down, Bonnibel."

~

"What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!" Marceline shrieked.

"Marcy are you okay?" Bonnie's crackly voice asked, her projection appearing from the holo-pendant. Marceline leaned against the stone wall, her breathing heavy staring at her punctured legs that were bleeding.

"Just fine," she said sarcastically. "Almost got staked by some rusty metal pipes. Bonnie, this is post-war technology. What did you do?"

"I have important research down there, I had to defend it at least a little bit."

"The thousands of lost souls weren't enough?"

“It’s to protect it from them,” Bonnie snapped. “If these criminals got their hands on it, the Candy Kingdom would be in danger.”

“Oh, yeah, if the political prisoners found evidence you were a corrupt leader then you’d be overthrown.”

“It’s a real threat!” Marceline rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. I wished my healing worked down here.”

“Bodily magic doesn’t work because some of those creatures down there have natural magical prowess.”

“Too bad that there are tons of magic weapons down here.” The spikes retreated and Marceline pushed herself up, floating slowly around with her axe prone and ready. “What about the plants?”

“They’ve mutated to become immune to the limitation,” Bonnie explained.

“Speaking of plants, there’s one now.”

~

Marceline felt the wind leave her body as she was knocked against the wall, the deer’s antlers puncturing her legs and it licked her.

“Gross! Back off!” She kicked the deer’s underbelly and pushed it off her, slamming her axe down on the deer’s neck. She shakily stood up and was grabbed, a muzzle rubbing against her neck. She hissed as she felt new instincts override her other ones. She pushed herself up and slid under the wolf, standing up to hit it with the neck of her bass causing it to recoil. She slashed across its chest and took a deep breath, stumbling towards the stairwell.

She watched as a green portal opened and Death stepped out, a brown satchel on his waist and he tipped his cap towards her.

“I see you,” he said and Marceline braced herself, taking in the area and how much space she had. She dashed to the left and hugged the wall, growling when she felt skeletal fingers wrap around her forearm. She was jerked backwards and she felt Death’s skull touch her cheek. She could practically feel the energy drained from her as she struggled before she finally got her arm out of his grasp.

She dived for the stairs and fell down them, at the bottom turning back to look. Death stood at the top and made finger guns towards her.

“Kiss of Death, baby.”

“Fuck you,” Marceline hissed.

~

“Bonnibel, how did you get lava down there,” Marceline asked as she watched the wounds heal. Bonnie handed her a vial of a purple liquid that she drank, whatever cursed her fading away.

“Various tunnels and educated usage of pressure and-”

“It was more rhetorical. But I did get burned. And stabbed. And shot. And kissed without my consent.”

“What? Who kissed you?” Bonnie exclaimed.

“Death. He was blocking the stairs so I tried to duke him but he caught me. I did manage to get down the stairs though.” Marceline tapped her cheek in the spot that Bonnie assumed she was kissed. “Good thing I’m already dead.”

“Death shouldn’t be hanging around in the dungeon,” Bonnie muttered. “It’s interfering with the mortal realm and not allowing the natural flow to keep order.”

“Well, you’re throwing people in a dungeon and barring magic. That messes with the natural flow,” Marceline pointed out.

“Shut up,” Bonnie snapped. “Have you found any signs of the hoomans?”

“None. I’m going to head back down though, I’ll find them.” Bonnie grabbed her wrist and locked eyes with her.

“Marceline, you’re getting close to a bad place. A place that you were nine-hundred ninety-nine years ago. I really think you should stay up here this time."

"Bonnibel, it will be fine. Send me down."

~

Marceline stared at the ruined food truck, a flood of emotions overwhelming her. She listened to the sea of growling and heard a soft humming mixed in. She picked up a rock and threw it at the truck, the old voice box still working. The red siren turned on, illuminating the maze in red light. Her breathing became unsteady and rapid when the oozers began to glow, and she spotted a hooman among them. The hooman saw her as well and started happily skipping towards her.

She took out her axe and started swinging at the oozers, their green insides spilling out onto the ground. When the hooman was close enough, she grabbed her wrist and bolted, bringing her to the fence and kicking open the gate. She looked over at Susan’s grateful face and to the entrance of the maze and sighed.

“I’m booked for this, aren’t I?”

~

“Marceline! Marceline are you okay?” Bonnie grabbed her arm and started looking over her body, circling her and checking over the exposed skin and where the clothes were ripped.

“Bonnie, I’m fine. I can’t believe they’re still down there.” Bonnie stopped and stepped back.

“I couldn’t get rid of them. If that green goop even touches you that’s it. I just thought if I buried them then that would be the end of it. How the hoomans even got down there I don’t know.”

“Probably something to do with that buff cat chick,” Marceline jabbed her thumb towards Susan.

“Maybe. I’ll ask her later. But Marcy, that one got really dicey. Everyone made it out safely, but you almost didn’t. That swarm could have easily overwhelmed you. Can you please let Finn and Jake take care of this? I really don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And I don’t want them to get hurt,” Marceline mumbled. “I’m the best choice for this. I can teleport back to the surface, I know how to fight, I’ve been in all these places before. Plus I can literally eat the red bullets.”

“If you insist,” Bonnie sighed. She pulled her necklace and started fiddling with it. “What floor?”

~

“Marce, that one was close. This is the seventh time,” Bonnie scolded. Marceline shrugged and leaned on her.

“I’m exhausted,” she complained. “Magic Man hit me with some bullshit.”

“A strength-sapping spell,” Bonnie murmured. She pulled a herb out of her bag and placed it on top of Marceline’s head. “Stand still,” she instructed and counted under her breath before removing it. “You need to rest for at least three hours.”

“No,” she slurred, backing up and swaying on her feet. “I can keep going. I just…” She started falling forward and Bonnie caught her, sighing.

“Will you just go take a nap or something?” she asked. Marceline groaned.

“Don’t let anyone else go in there. I can deal with this myself,” she ordered and Bonnie pushed her back, keeping one hand on Marceline’s shoulder and crossing over her chest.

“Cross my heart,” Bonnie smiled. Marceline raised her umbrella in the air.

“I am going to the corner,” she announced and wandered off towards Choose Goose.

~

“Marceline, things are looking really dangerous. You keep having to retreat back up here,” Bonnie said softly. Marceline shrugged.

“Whatever, I’m still making it out,” she stated. Bonnie crossed her arms.

“You almost aren’t,” Bonnie scolded. “Do you want some help?”

“Bonnibel Bubblegum fighting in a dungeon? I don’t know.” Bonnie rolled her eyes.

“No, a token per se. Something that’ll protect you.” Marceline shook her head aggressively.

“No. I don’t need any help. None! Send me down!”

“If you say so,” Bonnie sighed.

~

“Will you accept my offer now?” Bonnie asked, placing her hands on her hips. Marceline put a hand on her forehead and clenched her jaw.

“Fine. Yes. What do you have.”

“Pep-but! Grab the sweater!” Bonnie called. Peppermint Butler came running with a knitted pink sweater folded in his arms. “Thanks, Peps. Marcy, arms up.” She took the sweater from his arms and held it. Marceline used her free hand to motion towards herself.

“Umbrella.”

“You have telekinesis.”

“Oh, yeah.” She let the umbrella float above her slightly higher and she raised her arms. Bonnie slid it carefully over her head and adjusted her collar. Marceline scratched at it.

“This is tight, Bons,” Marceline complained. Bonnie smiled shyly.

“It’s made of the strongest magic out there,” she said quietly. Marceline quirked an eyebrow.

“O-kay. I thought you thought magic was a sham.” She tugged at the hem of it and frowned, her eyes narrowing at Bonnie. “Why can’t I take it off?”

“Well, you see, I had a feeling you might try to take it off, and for your own safety, I may have had it engineered so that you couldn’t take it off until you were in a sound state. Since you’re going back in, it recognizes that you are going to be in harm’s way.”

“I should have known there’d be a catch,” Marceline grumbled.

“It’s in your best interest,” Bonnie stated.

“That doesn’t make it right. Look, I’m just going back down. I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

~

Marceline carefully pulled the pink sweater over her head and slid it over the umbrella handle.

“I’m not putting that back on,” she growled and sighed. “Everything is covered in your gum down there, you’ve been having fun without me? And since when did you have a giant pink cat thing and a huge gryphon eagle thing?”

“Goliad and Stormo? I’m glad they’re still balancing each other out.”

“I’m not getting an explanation? I should’ve expected that.”

“Also, I’m sorry but your corner is occupied now. I thought you could all use a break from the dungeon and while you may not enjoy the opportunity, the Nightosphere offered a challenge for anyone who felt so inclined. Maybe while everyone does that you can rest?”

“Why are you pushing me to slow down? I’m in my groove right now. You’re not my mom,” Marceline snapped.

“I’m not trying to be your mom! I care about you and I’m worried you’re pushing yourself too hard!”

“Well geez, it’s nice of you to care after all this time! I know my limits! I’ll show you! I’m going to the Nightosphere!”

“Marceline!”

“Don’t come after me,” she snapped and stalked off. Bonnie hugged herself and grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

~

“Are you going to calm down now?” Bonnie asked. Marceline kicked the dirt angrily.

“No. But I think I give up for now. That whole jam is ridiculous. There’s so much going on at once. I think the normal chaos is what I prefer right now. You know, I think it’d be cool if you came down too.” Bonnie shifted uncomfortably.

“Someone needs to stand guard here.” Marceline motioned towards the banana guards to either side.

“Found two,” she pointed out.

“It has to be me,” Bonnie insisted. She leaned over and whispered so only Marceline could hear. “You know how incompetent these guys can be.”

“Whatever you say P-Bubs.”

~

“So, how’d Flame Princess get locked down there, in the lab that belongs to you trapped in a machine you made.” Bonnie shrugged.

“No idea.”

“You can’t keep trying to ruin Finn’s relationship, girl. It’s an unhealthy obsession.”

“It’s not an obsession, it’s a coincidence! It’s a coincidence that she got trapped in my machinery

“You aren’t confirming it or denying it.”

"I don't need to. I'm not that cruel a woman that I would trap a child for a science experiment."

"Actually-"

"Don't." Bonnie held a finger out to stop Marceline from continuing. "There's no reason for me to lock Flame Princess up, especially when she herself is the biggest threat to the Candy Kingdom. It isn't wise to poke the bear with a stick, you know what I mean?"

“Yeah, I guess. She really wants to join the travel party now, so she might still be gunning to destroy the kingdom.” Bonnie placed a nervous hand on her cheek and glanced warily towards Flame Princess, who appeared to be trying to explain something to Finn.

“Could you keep an eye on her?” Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a babysitter,” Marceline snapped and sighed, “but yeah, I guess. I’d rather all of Ooo not be lit on fire. I’ll take her with me.” Bonnie smiled gratefully. “Anything I need?”

“I recommend a fire-resistance charm, in case you get caught in the crossfire.” Marceline nodded and dropped some gold in her hand. “I’ll use the charm, and that armour Finn hates too. Also, let Flame Princess use whatever token she wants, I don’t care.”

“Flame Princess! Marceline wants you to come with her!” Bubblegum shouted and the teen came running, small fires dotting her every step.

~

“That was exhilarating! So many things happening at once, so many creatures and questions! I knew that Bubblegum was no good!” Phoebe exclaimed.

“Hey, cut her some slack. She’s been at this for a long time,” Marceline growled. Flame Princess looked at her in confusion.

“You can’t honestly look at all this and tell me she’s not evil or at least bad. Look at all this stuff! Living beings forced to stay down here to the rest of their lives. Why? Is what they did really bad enough to deserve this?”

“Yes!” Marceline snapped. “And you don’t know Bonnie like I do.”

“Well, how do you know her so well?”

“I know her so well because-”

“You have done well to come this far,” A voice echoed, startling both girls. Marceline and Phoebe both looked to the speaker.

“Bonnie? What are you doing all the way down here?” Marceline asked.

“Something evil I bet,” Phoebe spat and Marceline whacked the back of her head, ignoring the burning sensation. Bonnibel frowned.

“This is my dungeon,” she said plainly. “And this room is the bottom of it. So, great job! You can go home now, back to the surface or whatever.”

“I don’t think so. There’s probably something in here that you’re hiding,” Phoebe hissed. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“This doesn’t make sense. What’s down here, Peebs?” Bonnie chuckled nervously.

“Nothing! This is the bottom. That’s it. But just to be safe,” she glared discreetly at Phoebe “I need you to promise me you will not touch my desk back there. It has important research on it that you could mess up. This could be your final quest in this adventure, just promise me. Royal promise. No touchies.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Marceline insisted. Bonnie shook her head.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Fine! Whatever!” Marceline threw up her arms in defeat. Bonnie smiled. It wasn’t one of her normal smiles, not one of the ones Marceline was used to. It was empty and cold. Her eyes were unreadable.

“I think we’re done here then. Thank you for solving the mystery.” Marceline looked her up and down and walked past her, looking down at the table. Phoebe walked up beside her and glanced at Marceline.

“These papers are unreadable,” she whispered. Marceline absentmindedly picked up one of the papers, seeing the words were faded and the pictures were half-erased. Then the wall in front of them opened, showing a dark pink gum tunnel.

“Are you serious? What the fuck is wrong with you! Where does this even go?” Marceline shouted. She spun around to face Bonnibel and scowled at the expression on her face. An expression she hadn’t seen in centuries, since they had broken up. Her eyes were narrowed and she had a slight frown. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her and she straightened her back to look at them like she was above them.

You’ll never know where it goes,” she said slowly, “you broke a royal promise. And you know what that means. I’m sorry girls, it’s business.” Marceline saw out of the corner of her eye a fireball that Phoebe had thrown before they both teleported above the kingdom, standing on a cotton candy cloud and looking up at the Gumball Guardians.

“I told you,” Phoebe shouted. Marceline growled and readied her axe.

~

“Well, at least I’ll get a metal song out of this,” Marceline mumbled. Phoebe scoffed.

“You’re thinking about music? I’m thinking about revolution!” Her hands lit up and she prepared to attack before Bonnibel ran out in front of them.

“Wait! You don’t understand! I know this thing looks like a monster, but you have to listen to me! It doesn’t want to hurt you! It just-” A gum tentacle swung out and grabbed her, causing both Marceline and Phoebe to jump back.

“Bonnie! You’re not getting out of this that easily!” She lunged forward only to get hit in the face with a metal ball, knocking her back. Phoebe dragged her to her feet.

“Think smart!” She barked.

~

Marceline was angry at Bubblegum, but seeing everyone else rail on her for something she herself had done as well, made her get a bit protective. She’d deal with the lying later.

“Wouldn’t you lie to protect your weird old parents too?” Marceline snapped. She floated down and wrapped her arms around Bonnie’s shoulders, glaring at the entire crew. She glanced at Bonnie for a split second and saw her small smile and she flashed one back. She was still holding her when the mass of gum began to separate.

~

“Thanks for helping me out, I do wish you could’ve done it without killing my parents though,” Bonnie said. Marceline raised an eyebrow.

“They aren’t dead. We can go catch them if you want.”

“No, no. They’ll come back if they want,” Bonnie sighed. “Marceline, come inside. I want to speak with you privately.”

“Okay, sure.” Marceline followed her up the candy steps and through the winding halls, ending in Bonnie’s room. She motioned towards the bed.

“Sit down,” she ordered and Marceline obliged, sitting down with her arms crossed. “I want to apologise to you.”

“For what? For sending me on a wild goose chase? For trying to get your gumball guardians to murder me? For lying to me and tricking me? For literally putting all of us in mortal danger? Which one is it?” Marceline snarled. Bonnie winced.

“All of that, listen, Marceline, I didn’t want to do all that! But responsibility demands sacrifice and the cost kept escalating. I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand before it was already there. I was running out of ways to stop you.”

“Maybe the best way to have stopped me would have been to tell the truth? Did you ever consider that?” Marceline snapped. “Everyone could have died, get that through your thick skull! All of us could have died!” She stood up and sat back down, pinching the bridge of her nose and taking deep breaths. “I don’t even know how long it’s been, all I know is you haven’t changed a bit. You put your own pride over the actual lives of other people.”

“Marceline-”

“No, Bonnie, listen. It’s been like this for centuries. It’s exhausting. I had thought you were different now. I really did. But I guess old habits die hard.”

“I’m trying to change. I really am Marcy. I just- I was scared. You know what it’s like to have to face the potential of losing your parents. You know what it’s like to lose them. I don’t. I just had to come head-to-head with it today. It’s not okay that I did all that, but I panicked,” Bonnie rambled. Marceline stood up and shook her head.

“I’m going home. I have a killer headache and I’m tired. I got up to come help and I did, so my job’s done.” She rubbed her temple and walked to the door, reaching for the handle only for her hand to be grabbed.

“I’m sorry. I want you to know that. I really am sorry.” She hesitated. She looked to Bonnie and inhaled sharply. She did look remorseful, but sometimes remorse was not enough.

“Sorry doesn’t fix this,” she mumbled. Bonnie looked away.

“I understand.” She quickly hugged Marceline and backed away, walking to filter through her closet. “It’s okay if you never forgive me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I’ve forgiven you for worse,” Marceline stated. “But this one will take me a bit. I’ll text you eventually.” She strolled out and narrowly avoided Peppermint Butler who was coming into the room, getting called some harsh words as she opened her umbrella to make her way home.

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 2

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

 Penny Parker worked, on average, 108 hours a week between three jobs to make ends meet for herself and Peter. His high school, a stupidly expensive private science academy, sucked the majority of her income up each month despite a scholarship. Rent was $1,200 a month, not including utilities. Peter ate like a quintessential teenage boy, which meant a pound of cereal every morning before school and the equivalent in the evenings when he got home from his clubs.

She didn’t sleep much and only had one rotating day off each week. After learning of Peter’s situation with Tony Stark, she slept even less and spent her days off doing any and all research she could into the man and her options for getting Peter away from him. By the time a month had passed since the revelation that her baby brother was being stalked by a super powerful, criminal mastermind pedophile piece of shit, Penny was a wreck of a human being. Even Peter, who was understandably wrapped up in his own head most of the month, had noticed the bags under his sister’s eyes and the harried look she carried about her at all times.

They joked that Penny had taken every bit of chaos from her parents combined genes, somehow managing to leave behind every ounce of intelligence for Peter. She was a walking, talking disaster on the best of days. He’d seen her stick a fork in a toaster, try to mix bleach and vinegar, hell one time she’d come home from work with a sprained wrist because she’d fallen off a ladder stocking some shelves despite the fact someone had been actively holding the ladder to spot her. But this was an entirely new level of disarray from his sister.

Peter could tell that she wasn’t coming up with any solutions that she was happy with. Despite their inside jokes, Penny had a weird sort of intuitive intelligence. She couldn’t do basic math in her head and forget anything to do with science, hell basic reading comprehension could be a trial at times.

What she knew was that Tony Stark had every police department in New York on his payroll, despite the act they put on that “they were doing everything in their power” to gather evidence on the 87 open investigations into him and his company. She knew that he had several politicians under the same thumb, not because it was public knowledge, but because somehow every bill that was put to vote that could be useful to Tony Stark passed into law (or however that sort of thing worked—Penny didn’t understand bills and laws and the senate or whatever, but who really did?).

She knew that the surrounding states were similarly within his range of power. That his companies’ holdings in California meant he had too much control there too. He had holdings in Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico as well. It wasn’t public knowledge, but Penny could read between the lines when things seemed too good to be true. Or, too good to be true for one Tony Stark. Everything aligned in a way that was so suspicious, she couldn’t figure out why the FBI or CIA or NSA weren’t on to him too.

In the end, all it meant was that nothing Penny did would really matter in the long run. Tony Stark was infinitely powerful in a multitude of states, rich and influential in a way that one person shouldn’t ever have the ability to be. And Penny Parker had $3,000 to her name and a shitty apartment and an even shittier car. Compared to Tony Stark, she wasn’t even good enough to be dirt.

It meant that she had to be more creative. Penny wasn’t smart, but thinking outside of the usually accepted parameters was kind of her specialty. There was no good way to get Peter away from Tony’s sphere of influence, but there were some ways. Maybe just a single way. A very unpleasant, single way that would rip her heart to shreds. But Penny had decided as a 13 year old that she would do everything she could to keep Peter safe and happy and fuck if she was willing to stop now.

***

“Are you still stalking the webcam feed?” Tony wondered if it was possible to push anymore exasperation into his voice as he walked into the main living room only to find Clint once again watching Peter’s empty apartment on the massive TV.

“Something might happen,” it was the same defense the assassin always used when caught in the act, but Tony knew that the blond actually just wanted to catch a glimpse of Penelope Parker.

In all fairness, even Tony could admit that the young woman was rather beautiful. Where Peter’s skin was milky white and freckled, Penelope had a tan that betrayed her father’s Israeli heritage. She was shorter than Peter, held more weight than her lanky but growing brother. Her hair was long and held a natural wave, the same colour as Peter’s. They had the same eye colour as well, but Penelope’s were more narrow and slanted. It wasn’t Tony’s cup of tea, but he could objectively understand the appeal.

In all honestly, Penelope Parker wasn’t his cup of tea as a person. Every time her name popped into his head, he felt a seething rage begin to build in his chest. Penelope fucking Parker, responsible enough to be deemed guardian of the most precious boy in New York but not responsible enough to actually take care of him.

Back when he thought Peter lived alone off his meager inheritance, the living situation had bothered Tony but not enraged him. After all, sure a teenage boy would be fine living in a shit hole if it fit his budget. But no, his sister was the one who made him live in that rat’s nest. His sister, who worked so often it left poor Peter neglected and alone, was the reason he had to walk through dangerous streets to get home at night. His sister.

His fucking sister.

No wonder Peter hadn’t told him he had a sister. She was probably a fucking monster, as selfish and miserable as the goddamn evil stepsister from Cinderella.

He’d caught enough glimpses of Penelope Goddamn Parker in the last month to last him a life time. She and Peter hardly interacted where the webcam could pick up, although sometimes they caught snippets of audio. Mostly, they witnessed just how addicted to the internet she was. She spent more time on her fucking laptop than she did talking to her own brother.

It drove Tony insane, knowing that the longer he left Peter in her care, the more neglected he would be. His baby boy was trapped in an apartment with an uncaring bitch who spent 90% of her time working and the other 10% ignoring him for whatever bullshit Instagram, Facebook nonsense she was so obsessed with. Tony didn’t even bother keeping a record of her internet history, after the first two days of monitoring had revealed she spent the entire time on Youtube.

“Yeah? And has anything happened in the last, oh, 6 hours since she left for work?”

“No but she should be getting home soon—” Clint winced, having walked directly into the trap Tony set like a dumbass.

“Stop watching the bitch on my TV, all you do is stare down her fucking shirt anyway.”

“The bitch would make a pretty decent lay if you’d give a guy a break.”

Tony Stark did not roll his eyes. Tony Stark was a genius, ran a weapons engineering empire, had the most important politicians in the United States in his back pocket. Tony Stark did not roll his eyes.

So Tony Stark Did Not Roll His Eyes at the blond parked out on his couch with a bowl of popcorn and a beer. No doubt there was a cheap ass pizza on it’s way up the elevator, despite the fact Tony employed some of the best chefs in New York for his private kitchen. Clint Barton was the worst sort of best friend Tony had, but he’d still kill for the dumbass.

“What has Penelope Goddamn Motherfucking Parker done now?” Sam Wilson questioned absently as he walked into the living room from the kitchen, quoting Tony’s general tone of voice when talking about the woman.

“She hasn’t even taken her shirt off where I can see it, can you believe that? Fucking ridiculous. With a rack like that she should be shaking her tits on camera for money daily,” Clint whined in response, gesturing to the empty room on the TV, “I swear she sleeps on that fucking couch almost every night and not once has she undressed in front of the computer.”

“You’re a freak, my dude,” Sam smacked the blond upside the head as he walked past towards the elevator, “Time table still on track, Stark?”

“Steady as she goes,” Tony replied, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “Where are you going? Movie night starts in 20 minutes?”

Movie night was almost the most ridiculous thing Tony participated in on any given day. His inner circle was made up of the only people in the world he trusted, was made of up assassins and ex-military super soldiers and all sorts of genetically altered freaks, and somehow movie night had become a staple of their existence. To miss a movie night without a doctor’s note or a mission was a crime punishable by near exile in the form of a group silent treatment. Pepper, Happy and Pietro were currently exempt, away on a business trip as executive, body guard, and assistant.

“Just going to change,” Wilson gestured to his workout clothes and shrugged, “need to shower.”

“Now if only we could make you realize that needs to happen more than once a month,” Clint muttered quietly, only to have a dirty shoe nail him in the face a moment later.

The blond fell off the couch with a shout, popcorn flying everywhere as the bowl escaped his grip. Sam, who’s aim was almost as impeccable as Clint’s own, gave the man the finger as the elevator doors closed dramatically.

“You are a disaster of a human being,” Tony commented absently, still watching his phone as the little dot that was his baby boy moved through the city.

He ignored Clint’s protests, flopping onto the couch and making himself comfortable while the rest of the tower’s residents slowly ambled into the communal living room. Bucky and Steve were parked out on the recliner, disgustingly cute and cuddly even from a distance. They, like Clint, had a stupid fascination with fucking Penelope and were watching the webcam feed while they waited for everyone to arrive.

Natasha and Wanda wandered in while chatting, each already having a drink in their hand. Thor, Loki and Bruce all came out of the elevator at the same time, Bruce having come from the labs and the two brothers from the coffee shop on the ground floor of the tower. Sam and Rhodey entered at the same time from the stairwell, both having freshly showered after a long day.

“What are we watching tonight?”

The following argument generally lasted a solid 20 minutes, but Wanda and Natasha won out with a comedy horror they’d all already seen before. It left plenty of room for conversation while the movie played in the background, a deck of cards finding their way onto the coffee table as well.

“So what’s the plan for your boy’s sister, Tones?” Rhodey questioned as Sam dealt cards for their third game of poker of the night.

“I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to get away from the bitch,” the man grumbled in response as he adjusted his hand, “He’d probably walk right out the front door and leave her in the dust if I asked. I figure I’ll give her an ultimatum: Peter comes with me and she shuts the fuck up, or Peter comes with me and she finds herself in a shallow grave.”

“I think I could draw her tits from memory from how often she’s on her computer and ignoring her brother,” Clint stated, because despite the fact he thought Penelope god awful Parker was hot as all Hell, he knew how much it hurt to have the person who was supposed to care for you most ignore you completely.

Rhodey hummed in agreement, “Maybe we should off her, just in case. I bet she gets some sort of welfare from the state for him and she shouldn’t get to keep raking that in.”

“She shouldn’t get it even while she’s got him,” Natasha stated from over her wine, spread out and lounging on the loveseat closest to the couch, “probably uses it for drugs. It definitely isn’t used for groceries to feed to the poor kid, he looks half starved.”

“Nah, that’s just teenage boy syndrome,” Bucky added a couple of bills to the pot on the coffee table, “Not that I think she’s winning any care taker of the year awards, but I’ve seen that him eat while doing surveillance. Kid could take down a whole ass McDonalds by himself if given the chance.”

“He’s been putting on some weight actually,” Tony felt the corners of his lips tip up in a small smirk, “Muscle mass, one of his friends started dragging him to lift weights on Thursdays.”

“Careful Stark, you get too excited by the thought and you’re gonna pop off in your jeans,” a round of snorts sounded at Rhodey’s words and Tony Stark, Who Did Not Roll His Eyes, gave his friend the finger.

“I say we just go ahead and kill her,” Bruce was focused more on his laptop and the reports there in than the movie, but made sure he always paid attention to the conversation during movie nights, “she’s a liability. It might help Peter adjust too, knowing that she’s gone.”

“And that he has nothing left and nothing to go back to,” Clint added, not mean spiritedly but pointedly and with an exaggerated head tilt.

“He won’t have anything left or anything to go back to,” it was pragmatic and a bit cold, but Steve never pulled his punches, “its best to cut all ties. The more he relies on Tony, the faster he’ll adapt to his new situation. Maybe its manipulative, but this is a weird situation and we might have to get our hands dirty to get him to a good place, mentally and physically.”

“By weird you mean kidnapping a kid?”

“For his own good!”

“Its only kidnapping until he turns eighteen, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how the concept of kidnapping works, Clint.”

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS suddenly interrupted, turning on the lights and turning off the movie, “I believe it is important that you watch the webcam footage I’ve been monitoring. The recording begins as of five minutes ago and is still ongoing.”

“Pull it up, J,” Tony ordered quickly, sitting forward on the couch.

Everyone in the room watched in confusion as the TV began to roll on Peter and stupid fucking Penelope sitting in front of the laptop, most likely at the kitchen table. Peter was slightly off to the side, the computer centered more on his sister.

“Penny, please just tell me what you’ve decided on? I’ve been watching you lose your mind for weeks, I know you came up with something last night.”

“You’re… not going to like it Peter,” fucking Penelope���s voice was soft, the laptop microphone too shitty to pick up the quiet cadence well, “If you can think of something better, we’ll go with that. But… I don’t think there’s another choice. I’ve gone through everything I can think of. Try to let me get through this without yelling at me, okay?”

They’d never really seen Peter and fucking Penelope interact before. Most of the time it was just her, on the laptop, all the fucking time. Peter came and went in the background, to and from school and clubs and his friend’s houses, but most of the time she closed the laptop when he was around. They were all a bit surprised by how much affection was in her expression as she looked at her brother. Peter nodded at her, lips already pursed in frustration.

“I’ve been doing as much research as I can on Tony Stark. He’s… God, he’s got more influence than the fucking president. There are entire states in his pocket, Pete. Can you believe that? From what I can figure out, he’s got just about every New York senator on his payroll and don’t even get me started on the police—”

“How’d she figure that out?” Rhodey’s frown was a mixture of concern and irritation, “There’s never been any sort of reporting on your dealings with politicians.”

“I don’t know.”

“The good news is, I don’t think he has any business in Oregon. I’ve looked through as much of the gossip as I can, he’s never spent any significant amount of time there and if I’ve been understanding the weird ass insinuations correctly, his businesses don’t operate in the area.”

“Oregon? Are we gonna go there?” Peter reached out and grabbed his sister’s hands, “I promise, I’m not upset over us having to move Penny, I—”

“Peter, I’m… I’m not moving babe, you are.”

The teenager seemed to draw back slightly, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth dropping open as he searched for words but was unable to come up with any.

“I don’t think you remember them, the last time we saw them was before mom and dad died, but we have second cousins in Oregon, Paul and Olivia. They’re about ten years older than me, with one kid. When I got custody of you, I contacted them. I wanted to make sure that if something happened to me, I had a sure thing lined up for you. It was years ago, but they promised they’d take you in a heartbeat if I couldn’t care for you anymore, for any reason.”

“You… you wanted to give me to them?” Peter’s eyes were full of tears and they watched as Penelope reacted in horror.

“Peter, no! Never! I would never willingly let you go. I was worried, everyone around us was dropping like flies in freak accidents and I couldn’t let you go into foster care if I died. I just wanted to make sure you would have someone if something happened to me.”

“You thought you were gonna die?”

“My birth father died, and then mom and dad died, then uncle Ben, then aunt May. I didn’t want to leave you alone with no one. I didn’t think I was gonna die, I just… wanted to be prepared. Just in case.”

“Why are you bringing them up? And Oregon? What do you mean that I’m moving? Alone?”

Penelope What the Fuck is Happening Parker’s lips pursed, eyes filling with tears. There was a level of sheer pain on her face that was startling for them all to see, especially considering they’d managed to work her up as an unfeeling monster in their heads for fucking weeks now.

“I’ve tried a thousand ways for us both to go, but I just… I don’t have the money saved for us to move. We’d have to break the lease and even if we left with the clothes on our backs, we wouldn’t be able to afford getting to Oregon. The car won’t make it, I can’t afford plane tickets. I wouldn’t be able to afford to get to Oregon. But I’ve figured out a way to get you there.”

“How Penny?” Peter’s was obviously trying to sound stern, but his voice cracked slightly.

“Not tomorrow, but the day after, we’re going to put in an anonymous call to Child Protective Services and claim that I’m abusing you. Neglecting you. They’ll take you out of my custody and send you to Olivia and Paul, since they’re our ‘closest’ living relatives.” Penelope Oh Fuck Parker’s voice was cracking too, tears running down her face as she explained her batshit crazy plan to her baby brother, who they were quickly realizing was far from neglected or abused.

Tony felt his chest tightening at the sight of the siblings, both with tears streaming down their cheeks. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get it so incredibly wrong. Maybe he’d seen what he wanted to see, that his baby boy was easy pickings. That no one really cared for him so it would be easy to sweep him off his feet and spirit him away.

“You’ve never abused me! You’ve never neglected me! How could you even say that, Penny!? Everything you’ve ever done—”

“Peter please, listen,” Penny was nearly sobbing, grasping Peter’s hands tightly with her entire body angled downwards over them, “We have to pretend, okay? We have to pretend because they’ll send you somewhere safe.”

“You’ll go to jail!”

“That’s fine! That’s okay, Peter! As long as you’re safe, I don’t care—”

“You can’t ask me to do this, you can’t ask me to send you to jail, to send you away when you haven’t done anything wrong, ever! I wouldn’t even be able to visit you! I’d be a million miles away and you’d be rotting away in jail because I was too stupid to mind my own business!”

“Peter none of this is your fault,” the tone was so stern and determined as Penny sat straighter in her chair, squeezing her brother’s hands reassuringly even as her chest heaved with grief, “it’s that fucking pedophile, piece of shit Tony Goddamn Stark’s fault, don’t you ever think that you are at all to blame for any of this—”

“I probably deserve at least half of that rage,” Tony stated absently, almost guilty at the word ‘pedophile’.

“Half? Hah!” It was an absent response, more instinct than intention but got the point across even as the entire group was absorbed by the pain playing out on the TV.

“I went to that stupid tower!” Peter wailed suddenly, making Penny go stiff, “After you got that note telling you not to report the assault, I went to the tower because I knew he worked there and I wanted him to suffer. You wouldn’t go to the police because they threatened your family but I thought… It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was stupid and I went to fucking Stark Tower and that’s where he saw me. It’s all my fault.” Peter’s sobbing was viscerally painful to hear, even through the shitty microphone.

“What assault? A note? JARVIS, figure out what he’s talking about!” Tony barked, already on his feet and pulling out his phone, “Give me the surveillance footage from that day, who was my boy here looking for?!”

“As the conversation is roughly five minutes delayed, I took the liberty of deciphering Mr. Parker’s statements already, sir,” the AI stated calmly, “six months ago, Mr. Brock Rumlow of level six security sexually assaulted Ms. Penelope Parker in a club in Queens. In order to prevent any bad press upon the company, a persuasive letter was sent from the Tower’s security to Ms. Parker to ensure her silence on the matter. I assume the day you came across Mr. Parker was the day he arrived to confront Mr. Rumlow over the assault and threat.”

“Find him,” Tony snarled towards Rhodey, who was already on his feet and typing away at his phone, heading towards the elevator, “Alive, Rhodey!”

“I’ll see what I can manage,” the man muttered darkly as the doors shut and he began descending towards level six, leaving the rest of them in the living room.

“He… he saw you… there? Oh, god… Oh god he saw you because you went to the tower, oh my God you went there because of me and he saw you— Oh my God!” Penny’s reaction was so emotionally brutal that it verged on physically violent. Her entire body seemed to lock up for a solid thirty seconds before she threw herself out of the chair and they could hear retching in the background a moment later. Peter was still sitting on the far side of the screen, sobbing into his hands.

Almost five minutes later, Penny ambled back into view. Her face was so pale compared to her usually tan complexion that she looked like a ghost. A fine tremble ran through her entire body, goosebumps visible on her exposed arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter’s voice broke through his sobs, bone achingly sad, “I’m so sorry I did this to us.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, bud,” Penny’s eyes were almost blank, the pain so overwhelming that she couldn’t force any other expression, “I set all of this in motion. I made a mistake and I’m so sorry you’re having to pay for it. I should’ve protected you better, you never should’ve even known what happened, let alone who— it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Everything is going to be okay Peter. We have a plan and everything is going to be alright.”

“You’re going to go to jail, Penny! For a horrible crime that you’d never, ever commit! Because I was stupid and immature and—”

“Stop Peter,” Tony’s eyes watered as Penny gently ran her fingers through Peter’s hair and left it to rest on his cheek, “don’t blame yourself for this. No matter what you did, no matter what choices you made, you didn’t deserve to be frightened and stalked. What’s happening is happening because there’s a man out there with a sick mind, who thinks he can take whatever and whoever he wants for whatever he wants. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him. And everyone who built him up and let him get to this point.”

She let Peter cry for several minutes and the group in the living room found themselves left to digest the situation to the sound of his sobs. Discomfort ran through all of them, for different reasons. Because they’d judged Penelope Too Good for This World Parker so wrong. Because they were the ones enabling Tony to do something terrible. Because they didn’t actually feel guilty for enabling Tony but they did feel guilty for the pain it was causing the Parker siblings.

“You’ll take such good care of him, Tony,” Natasha said quietly after a moment, seeing the pain in the man’s face, “He’s never going to want for anything ever again. He’s going to live in comfort and luxury for the rest of his life and that’s because of you.”

“He’s scared right now, Tones,” Clint jumped in quickly when it looked like Tony might protest, “They both are and we can’t blame them for that. But once they’re—he’s here, he’ll realize that it’s not a bad thing and that he has nothing to be afraid of. That we’re going to take care of them—him, all of us.”

Mind running at a million times per hour, Tony considered their words. Actually, he considered Clint’s words. Clint’s misspoken statements that implied both Parker siblings would be in the tower. Both of them would be safe and cared for. Both.

“They’ll never want for anything ever again,” Tony repeated quietly, all eyes in the room locked carefully on him, “Peter and Penny shouldn’t be separated.”

“You’ve given up everything for me, Penny,” Peter whispered after his cries calmed, “You dropped out of high school, dropped out of college, started working three jobs so I could go to that stupid school, you don’t sleep, you hardly eat, and I know it’s all for me. I can’t let you give up your freedom, I can’t let you give up anything else for me.”

“Oh my God no wonder she’s so skinny,” Wanda suddenly gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks in continuous rivers, “we thought Peter was skinny, but look at her, look at her collar bones! JARVIS, give me a record of all credit and debit card transactions she’s made in the last month and—” The redhead cut herself off when Penny began speaking again.

“All I want is for you to be happy Peter,” Penny whispered, the blank look in her eyes fading into grief again, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. You’re everything to me, you’re my baby brother. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, bud, anything.”

“I won’t do it, Penny, I won’t—”

“Yes, you will, Peter,” resolve hardened Penny’s voice and she squeezed her brother’s hands, “You’re going to do as I say. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and I’m going to call out of work. I’m going to throw most of your clothes away, all of the food in the house. I’m going to switch my stuff for yours, so it looks like I make you sleep on the couch while I take the bedroom.”

“Oh God she does sleep on the couch every night,” Professional Perfect Person Penelope Parker Stalker Clint Barton gasped in horror as he recalled his earlier comment on her sleeping habits and her undressing habits oh no.

“I’m going to trash the place as authentically as I can and I’m… God I’m going to destroy some of your stuff, Pete,” Penny looked pained at the thought, scraping a hand down her face, “But I’m going to transfer all of my savings into your name, so you’ll only be without your stuff for a little while. You can rebuy everything you need once this is over.”

“I can’t take your money, Pen—”

“Hush Peter. I don’t have much saved up, but I’ll put it under your name tomorrow. Now, when I turn 25 in a few months I’ll be able to use my portion of the money mom and dad left us. I’m going to transfer that to you as soon as I can, it should be enough for you to live off of once you turn 18 as long as you use it wisely.”

“Penny, please, you can’t expect—”

“I expect you to do as I say, Peter!” She cut him off with all the flare of a bossy big sister, “I want you to apply to universities outside of the United States. Focus on places like Norway, Australia and New Zealand. Avoid Mexico, Canada and the UK because I think he has business dealings in those countries and I don’t know how long he’ll be willing to search for you, so don’t risk it.”

“How does she know about our business in those places?” Tony threw his hands up in confusion.

“Sir, from what I can gather from Ms. Parker’s search history, she has done her best to track yours and your staff’s movements around the world for the last five or so years by means of social media and gossip blogs—”

“Well holy fuck, who would’ve thought to do that?” Sam’s eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline, “that’s ridiculous, no wonder she was on the laptop constantly.”

“Once you turn 25 you’ll come into your inheritance too. By that time I’ll probably be out of jail but… Peter I want you to leave me alone, okay? We don’t know… we don’t know if Stark will let this go, if he loses you. He might use my location and contacts to find you and I can’t let that happen.”

“You want me to just cut you out of my life forever? Like you’re some horrible monster I never want to see again? I can’t—”

“We don’t have a choice bud,” Penny was quiet, soothing as she ran her fingers over his wrists and hands, “Tony Stark is a dangerous man and he has more connections and money than we could ever hope to fight. The police won’t help us, the law won’t help us. All we have is this plan and I need you to follow it. I need to be able to trust that you’ll follow the plan, so that you’ll be safe.”

“What about you, Penny!? You won’t be safe! You’re always so worried about, about me being safe and happy that you forget about yourself! Do you understand that you’re telling me you want to go to jail? That you want me to abandon you forever?”

Penny seemed to waiver for just a second, as if she might actually let some tiny ounce of selfishness set in and change her mind, before her resolve hardened once again and she stood, putting herself nearly out of frame, “This is happening, Peter. This is the plan. This is what we’re doing. Because I won’t let him hurt you. I will literally do anything to keep you safe Peter, this doesn’t even make a wave in the pool of batshit crazy I’m willing to go if I need to. I love you. Now go to bed, you have school in the morning.”

[tomeandflickcorner]

Episode Review- The Real Ghostbusters: Janine Melnitz, Ghostbuster

Awesome! We got a Janine centric episode! And it really gives her a chance to shine!

There’s apparently been a huge spike in paranormal activity within the city, and the Ghostbusters are struggling to keep up with their mounting workload.  Each day, they have to head out to take on a number of busts and when they come back, they’re greeted with a pile of new additions to their worksheet.  Needless to say, they’re really exhausted.  Peter asks Egon what could be causing this rising amount of ghosts appearing in the city, but Egon doesn’t have any answers. And when he takes out his PKE Meter, it immediately overloads, further illustrating how serious things are.

When Winston and Ray head down to the basement to unload the new batch of captured ghosts into the Containment Unit, with Ray saying they’ll have to add another Klein Bottle to the machine to prevent it from going over max capacity, Janine approaches Egon and Peter.  She basically says ‘hey, I know you guys are super busy and all, but my apartment is haunted.  Can you please do something about that?’  But Peter and Egon tell her they can’t address her problem until after they resolve the supernatural crisis.  And yeah, I can see both sides of the issue here.  Janine is clearly not the only one dealing with a ghost problem right now, and it probably should be an issue of first come, first served.  Otherwise, it wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.  At the same time, Janine is on the Ghostbusters’ payroll, too.  You’d think there would be some sort of office perk to that.

Anyway, Janine ends up returning to her apartment after clocking out for the day.  When she arrives, she is aggravated to discover that the ghosts haunting her apartment have moved all of her furniture up onto the ceiling.  In frustration, she yells at the ghosts to get out, but the ghosts all just laugh.  Though they do unstick all her furniture, which all falls to the ground, forcing poor Janine to put everything back in place.  The next morning, Janine wakes up to find her bed is floating in midair.  And when she gets into the shower, no water comes out of the showerhead.  Instead, the shower quickly fills up with frogs.  As one might expect, this is the final straw for Janine.  So when she returns to the Firehouse, she is fully prepared to demand the Ghostbusters help her out.  But when she arrives, she is greeted only by Slimer, who informs her the Ghostbusters had already headed out to deal with other calls.  So Janine decides to take matters into her own hands, borrowing one of Peter’s spare uniforms and taking an extra Proton Pack and Ghost Trap.  She returns to her apartment to catch the ghosts herself, with Slimer tagging along. When they get there, the apartment seems to be deserted. And for a brief moment, Janine wonders if the ghosts had simply gotten bored and left on their own.  But then the lights suddenly turn off, and the ghosts begin throwing random objects at Janine while Slimer hides in a nearby cabinet. (Janine is particularly angry that a vase her mother had given her gets smashed against the wall.) Despite Janine’s best efforts, the ghosts quickly get the better of her, wrapping her up in a blanket and taking away the Proton Pack she was carrying.  Fortunately, Slimer eventually decided to quit cowering in the corner and actually help out.  While the other ghosts were distracted in tormenting Janine, Slimer carefully pushed the discarded Ghost Trap into position and triggered it, making sure to hold onto a fixed object in order to keep himself from being pulled into the trap as well.  So the ghosts haunting Janine’s apartment are soon trapped.  And Janine thanks Slimer for coming to her rescue.

Meanwhile, the Ghostbusters were still hard at work catching all the other ghosts plaguing the city.  Including a group of thug-like ghosts who were actually wielding real guns. I have no idea why I found this so hilariously shocking.  After all, it’s not the first time we’ve seen guns depicted in this show.  Maybe it’s the fact that the guns are being held by these small ghosts as if it was no big deal.  Sometimes I forget that the 80s were a different time.   Anyway, as the Ghostbusters start to head off to their next assignment, Winston remarks how the last time ghosts were crawling out of the woodwork like this, it was when Gozer was around.  Peter briefly wonders if it was possible that Gozer was somehow coming back, but Egon says this wasn’t the case, as none of the readings suggest such a thing.  However, he does take note that the ghosts they’ve been catching all have a common spectrography.  Which suggests that there’s a single source for all the ghostly activity. Unfortunately, there’s too much spectral static for him to pinpoint the exact location of that singular source. Peter tries to put a positive spin on things by reminding his teammates of how much money they’re making. Winston counters this silver lining by reminding Peter that they’ve been too busy to make much use of that extra money.

As the Ghostbusters head off to Gracie Manor, which is being haunted by a Class 9 Free Roaming Vapor, that statue of Atlas at Rockefeller Center suddenly comes to life, scaring off all the ice skaters in the process.  (So I’m guessing this episode takes place during the winter months.)  The Atlas Statue ends up throwing the globe it was carrying, which just narrowly misses the Ecto-1 as it drives by.  The Ghostbusters try to shoot the Atlas Statue with their Proton Packs, but it proves to be completely ineffective, since the stature was infused with so much ectonic energy, it could resist the force of the Proton Streams.  So the Ghostbusters have no choice but to run.  They try to get creative and slow the Atlas Statue down by using the Proton Packs to melt the ice beneath it as the Atlas Statue sets foot onto the ice skating rink, but this doesn’t work as the Atlas Statue is able to jump back out of the hole in the ice. The Atlas Statue then fires of a beam of light emanating from its finger at the Ghostbusters.  In a flash of light, the Ghostbusters all vanish from sight, much to the shocked dismay of the onlookers and news reporters.

Elsewhere, Janine and Slimer return to the Firehose after capturing the ghosts that had been haunting Janine’s apartment.  When they see the Ghostbusters haven’t retuned yet, they decide to wait for them to get back.  As they wait, Janine pulls out a TV set.  This results in her seeing the news report announcing that the Ghostbusters disappeared while fighting the Atlas Statue. So Janine and Slimer hurry back out to try and figure out what happened to the Ghostbusters.  When they arrive at Rockefeller Center, Janine pulls out the PKE Meter she’d brought with her, but quickly admits to Slimer that she has no idea what she’s doing.  She can’t even properly analyze the readings on the PKE Meter.

Janine and Slimer begin to wander along the city streets, at a loss as to what to do.  But that’s when Janine realizes something.  Remembering how the Ghostbusters seemed to disappear as if they got pulled into a Ghost Trap, she gets the idea of getting information from some of the ghosts that have recently been caught.  After all, maybe they might know what happened to the Ghostbusters. While she admits it’s a long shot, it’s the only possible lead they have.  Of course, Janine can’t enter into the Containment Unit herself as she’s alive. (And she probably can’t use that special suit Egon used to enter into the Containment Unit back in X-Mas Marks the Spot as I imagine she’d need someone who knew what they were doing manning the control panel.)  So she recruits Slimer to go into the Containment Unit instead.  Slimer is not exactly on board with the idea, but Janine doesn’t give him much of a choice. Upon being put inside the Containment Unit, Slimer wanders around for a bit before he manages to locate the Thug Ghosts that the Ghostbusters had recently caught.  Slimer eavesdrops on their conversation, overhearing them gloating how they won’t be there for long as Proteus will see that they’re released soon enough.  And that Proteus already has the Ghostbusters in the Erie.

Okay, hold on a minute here.  First off, how do these Thug Ghosts know what happened to the Ghostbusters?  From what we saw, these ghosts were captured before the Ghostbusters encountered the Atlas Statue. How would the ghosts in the Containment Unit know what’s going on in the outside world?  And come to think of it, when did the Thug Ghosts get put into the Containment Unit in the first place?  They were just captured earlier this very same day.  Did the Ghostbusters swing by the Firehouse between capturing the Thug Ghosts and starting to head off to Gracie Mansion? Because I didn’t get the impression they had the time to do that.  Talk about a plot hole.

Getting back to the episode, Slimer’s presence is discovered before he can get the chance to hear anything more, so he has to make a run for it when the captured ghosts begin chasing after him.  Slimer manages to make it safely back to the entrance/exit port of the Containment Unit, and Janine is able to pull him out in the nick of time while preventing any other ghost from escaping.  Now that she’s armed with the information Slimer was able to gather up, Janine does some research and locates the only Erie building listed in Manhattan.  After making a remark about how there’s never any thirteenth floor listed on the elevator buttons due to how superstitious people can be, Janine ventures up to the top floor of the building.  But she notices the PKE Meter is going off as they pass by the 14th floor. As a result, Janine is able to discover this building has an unmarked 13th floor, and she is able to reach it by hitting the emergency stop button and blasting the elevator doors open. She finds herself in some sort of other-worldly office building, complete with a demonic receptionist.  After brushing past the Demon Receptionist, Janine forces her way through a large doorway, ending up in a room that appears to be filled with mirrors.  These mirrors are soon revealed to be some sort of prison cells, with the Ghostbusters all imprisoned within one of the mirrors. Which gives Janine the opportunity to make a Lewis Carol joke.  Egon instructs Janine to get out of there since she doesn’t know what she’s up against. Ray backs up Egon’s statement by explaining that Proteus was a primal god like Gozer.  

At that moment, Proteus himself appears.  And he somehow knows Janine’s name.  (Yeah, I suppose he might have overheard the Ghostbusters calling her Janine, but that doesn’t explain how Proteus knew her full name.) Janine attempts to shoot Proteus with the Proton Pack, but to no avail as Proteus is much too strong.  Slimer, showing some courage, ends up charging at Proteus and keeping him distracted.  While Slimer is distracting Proteus, Janine turns and fires at the mirror prison holding the Ghostbusters captive.  This not only results in the mirror breaking, freeing the Ghostbusters in the process, but the light reflecting off the mirror surface apparently momentarily blinds Proteus. The blinded Proteus ended up firing off one of his finger beams randomly, with the finger beam bouncing off the other mirrors. This resulted in the finger beam overloading, causing the place to begin to fall apart.  Thankfully, the Ghostbusters, Janine and Slimer are able to make it out of there safely before the 13th floor blows up, clearly taking Proteus out in the process.

Upon returning to the Firehouse, Egon remarks that Janine showed real bravery to come after them like that.  The other Ghostbusters then notice the phones are no longer ringing off the hook, and Ray concludes that, with Proteus gone, the paranormal activity in New York will probably return to normal.  Peter then tells Janine that she’s pretty handy with a Proton Pack, so Janine suggests that she should try to go into business for herself.  Peter offers an alternative suggestion- she stay on as their secretary, but with a raise in salary.  Janine accepts this, on the condition that they continue to make sure her apartment remains ghost-free. With the exception of Slimer, of course.

As someone who likes Janine as a character, this was one episode I’d recommend to anyone who was interested in giving the show a chance. Obviously, Janine doesn’t have the experience and knowledge that the actual Ghostbusters have, but she still is able to hold her own when the situation calls for it. She even managed to defeat Proteus, a literal god.  Sure, Slimer did help keep Proteus distracted for a little while there, so she didn’t do it alone.  But the fact remains that Proteus was defeated because of Janine.  And she also helped save the Ghostbusters in the process. That’s not just an impressive feat for a secretary with no real Ghostbuster training, it’s impressive for anyone.  Though I do find it a bit strange that Peter seemed surprised how good Janine was with a Proton Pack, as this isn’t the first time she’d wielded one.  Even if you don’t include that time in Mr. Sandman, Dream Me a Dream (since that was technically Dream Janine), she did get the chance to wield a Proton Pack in Janine’s Genie.

There’s one other thing I want to comment on for this episode. In the opening scene, we can see the Ghostbusters heading out to what I think was either a library or a bookstore. I couldn’t tell which.  But the ghosts they were catching were clearly Captain Ahab, the Frankenstein Monster and one other ghost that was apparently supposed to be Mr. Hyde, though I didn’t get a good enough look at him to properly identify him.  I wanna know the story behind this haunting!  Are they suggesting these characters were actual people, the way Ebenezer Scrooge was shown as an actual person in X-Mas Marks the Spot?  Or were the ghosts haunting that location simply taking up the form of famous literary characters?  Because that would have made for an interesting episode.  Especially since it could have potentially gotten kids watching the show interested enough to actually read the actual novels, the way the movie Pagemaster was trying to do. (Although, I’ve been told that with the book Moby Dick, every other chapter in that novel takes a break from the actual narrative to discuss the whole history of whaling.  I imagine kids might get bored rather quickly if they tried to read that one.)

(Click here for more Ghostbusters reviews)

[theanarik]

Day 11: Red

Happy SasuHina Month, everybody! It’s day 11 already! This one can be read with the one coming for day 14.

TW:  there is depictions of blood. Also, an inapropriate relationship between Hinata and an OMC who's a lot older than her. This author does not condone that.

Also, 110 is the emergency number in Japan according to Google.

Day 11: Ruby Wine Stained Her Lips (my original thoughts were about poison but couldn’t find anything about that for my research)

Red

You can aso read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673345

When Hinata was little, she used to play with her little sister. She was a toddler at the time, couldn’t be older than two, and they had lots of fun together, chasing each other around in the gardens. Sometimes, their cousin, Neji, would come to play with them, but most of the time he would just sit down and supervise them.

Hinata was a happy girl.

Then, one afternoon, she arrived from school and found all her family in the living room. That wasn’t all that uncommon, but most of the time these meetings happened over dinner. Her mother grabbed her arm, and she realized that they were not alone. In front of them there were ten men – she counted them –, dressed all impeccably, but had guns on their hands. A minute later, they were firing.

*

She woke up in a deafening silence. Something – someone – was on top of her, and the house was almost dark. She pushed the body off of her and stood up. It wasn’t dark enough for her to tell that there were a lot of people on the floor and she started crying. Blindly, she looked for the light switch, and when the house became alive again, she realized that her whole family had been killed.

The pool of red, red blood reaching the piano a few meters away.

Hinata went body after body, trying to wake them up just like she did, but none of them responded. Her cousin’s back turned and full of holes as he tried, in vain, to protect her little sister. Numbly, she grabbed the phone and called 110. She laid on the floor, in a fetal position, trembling and crying. When the police officers arrived, they started recognizing the scene and one of them came to her, sat down and stayed there until she recovered enough to sit down herself. She looked up at the man, he was kind-looking, had long hair and eyes as dark as the night outside.

“Hey, my name is Itachi,” he said with a gentle, soft voice. “What’s your name?”

Hinata took a second to register the words and looked down again. “Hi-Hinata…”

“Alright, Hinata, were you the one who called to the station?”

“Y-yes.”

“Okay, how about we wrap you in a blanket and we head back to the station, then?”

“No!” Hinata yelled, eyes panicked. “My s-sister, I-I can’t leave her.”

“Hinata,” Itachi started, “you are a very brave girl, but I need you to be brave for her too, okay?”

Hinata looked directly into his eyes, open and understanding, and she turned to look at the other policemen that were marking everything on the floor.

“S-she…” she looks at Itachi again. “S-she wasn’t breathing.” Hinata felt a tremor go down her spine, and she started crying again.

“Shhh,” Itachi shushed her, ruffling her hair. “Let’s go outside, okay?” he stood up, offered his hand and Hinata took it as she sobbed.

*

As she grew up, Hinata became distant of every single person she met before the murder of her family. The only people she kept constantly in touch with was Itachi, and his little brother Sasuke. Although there were times where she didn’t say a word to either of them for months.

Hinata finds Sasuke again in a coffee shop, almost six months after she communicated last. Her hair is short, her lips are blood red, and she looks slightly out of place. Sasuke’s sitting with two other people, a blond man and a pink-haired woman. It takes him a moment to recognize her, but immediately after he does, he stands up as fast as lightning, previous conversation forgotten.

“Hinata!” he says, and she turns around slowly. Her coldness becomes surprise, and her surprise becomes warmth.

“Sasuke!” She leaves the coffee line taking a step to the side and collapses against his arms.

“It’s been years since the last time I saw you. Almost didn’t recognize you. You have contacts on.”

“Yeah, well, I can say the same! Look at you, you’re all big now!”

“Shut up.” Sasuke says smirking at her. A moment later, Hinata becomes collected again, her features turning solemn.

“Follow my lead.” She whispers, and then an old man enters the coffee shop. “Honey!” she says, and she flies herself to the man’s side. Sasuke can see the minute way her body tenses as he kisses her on the mouth. He frowns. “Sweetie, this is Daisuke. He’s one of my childhood friends!”

Her voice sounds fake, her posture is too rigid, and her green eyes are hard. Not for nothing, Sasuke is the brother of a cop.

“Hello,” he introduces himself.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet a friend of my Hikari,” Sasuke refrains himself from raising his eyebrows as he very pointedly keeps his eyes on the man. “She always talks so little about her past.”

“Oh, sweetie, you know it’s because nothing else matters before I met you.”

Yeah, that gives him a heads up that he should stay quiet and analyze what’s happening here. Hinata would never ever talk about her family like that, change her or his name and also the color of her eyes. There is something going on here and Sasuke will find a way to find out.

“Dai, let us buy you a coffee, it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other!” Hinata says, enthusiastically, “Can we, love? Can we?”

“Of course, how could I say no to my little light.” He pecks her in the lips, her red lipstick already smothered, and Sasuke feels his stomach churn.

Gross. What the hell is going on here?

Hinata disentangles herself from the man, and they both wait until she comes back from the coffee line in silence. Sasuke adventures himself and catches a look from Naruto and Sakura, and he shrugs minutely, like he’s just as lost as they are. Hinata comes back a few minutes later with three cups. He handles him his and then gives another one to the man.

“Ah, wait!” she says, before he starts drinking. “We’re forgetting your medicine.” And then she checks out her purse, takes a bottle of pills, opens it, and gives the man a blue and red pill. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

“What would I do without you,” he says, as he takes the pill and downs his coffee.

Hinata eyes him for a second and signals him with her eyes that he should take a look at his cup. Sasuke lowers his eyes and catches black ink popping from below his hand and turns the cup a little bit so the man doesn’t see it. She sighs relieved.

“Well, we should get going,” Hinata says, putting the pill bottle inside the bag and grabbing the man’s arm. “Dai, it was so good seeing you again.”

“You too,” Sasuke answers, unable to call her by any name.

As they get out, Hinata turns slightly and mouths Thank you at him. Sasuke nods and goes back to his seat.

“Who was that?” Sakura asks, interest in her tone.

“Just an old friend.”

“You have friends other than us?” Naruto asks mockingly and Sasuke rolls his eyes.

“Well, she left you a really big note.” Sakura points to the cup with her index finger and Sasuke lowers his gaze. There is, indeed, a note written in black sharpie.

Sasuke.

I know this is weird, I can’t really explain anything right now, but believe me when I tell you this:

I’m safe. I’m okay. Everything that’s happening is because I want it happening.

I cannot tell you anything else, and probably won’t tell you ever.

Trust me, please.

Text me.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Sasuke can’t really believe that Hinata wants a man that probably triples her age kissing her, touching her, or even calling her love, not after seeing her tense up every time he did so.

He’s going to find out what’s going on, and he will not rest until he does.

You can aso read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673345

[whitewallwhispers]

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. And things are getting complicated.

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine), alcohol use (wine), strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun), smut - mentions of oral sex (male receiving), rough sex (mentions of hair pulling, choking), unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks), daddy kink

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails).

This is kind of a dumb note but I feel the need to clarify that this smut is completely aimed at Peña - I love Pedro but in a completely different, non-sexual way. It’s a credit to his acting skills that he can make me want to fuck nearly every character he plays when IRL I just want to be his best friend.

He certainly left bruises. On her hips, her wrists. Purple at first before fading to yellow in the week that had passed since she last saw him. She’d gone to the bar every night, drinking away her parents’ money in the faint hope he’d show.

He didn’t.

She tried not to take it personally. She tried not to think about the possibility that he’d gone back to his regulars and forgotten all about her.

Maybe that’s why she’d decided to blow through an entire packet of coke, railing line after line off her counter as she wrote, though it wasn’t long before she was running into a dead end of ideas. If Peña had given up on her, she’d have to find another cartel member soon to give her more information. If she couldn’t gain the perspective of the opposite side, she might as well gain more insight into the one she already knew.

Her high made her forget that the next packet of her supply still laid on her bedside table. It didn’t help that she’d gone for the bottle of white wine she had in her fridge, drinking deeply straight from it as she moved to turn on her stereo, dancing to herself to Billie Holiday as she took another pull, her lips numb and limbs buzzing.

Maybe I should call it a night on writing. She’d been stuck for the past hour and even the coke had failed to stimulate her further. Maybe she could drown out the strange strain in her chest with the next packet she had. Maybe the wine would give her a hangover, and she’d spend the whole day tomorrow thinking only about how miserable she felt instead of wondering what Peña was doing and if she’d ever see him again.

Thirty minutes further into dancing by herself she’d drank nearly half the bottle of wine and taken another line from her fresh pouch.

She was being irresponsible.

She thought there wouldn’t be consequences.

She wasn’t thinking straight.

So when there came a knock at her door, she opened it straight away without peeking through the chain to see who it was.

Fuck fuck fuck.

She now had her door wide open to Peña, who was giving her an apologetic look.

“I know I said I wouldn’t turn up unannounced next time, but you wouldn’t believe what a week it’s been.”

Before she could even think he was stepping into her apartment.

“Wait,” she choked. “Hold on.”

But by the time she’d thought to stop him, he was already in the door. He could already see what she was about to do. He’d see her hiding the coke and he’d know and he’d hate her and she’d lose her only chance at writing about both sides of the story. He saw her panic.

“What’s the matter?” his voice was full of concern, too sweet in contrast to the severity of the situation.

“Can you close your eyes? Please? I know it sounds weird, but…”

“I - uh - sure, I guess,” he answered, mercifully shutting them without question.

She reached behind her to the counter to put down her wine and grab her manuscript before sprinting to her bedside table, stuffing the baggie of coke on top of the papers and shutting them safely away in the drawer.

“Okay, you can open them now,” she said, returning in front of him.

He was on her immediately, lips hot and heavy as he pushed her further into the room. It unfolded much like last time. He forced her onto her knees. This time she did a better job of relaxing her throat, and as such he thrusted into her harder than before. She didn’t gag once, and he rewarded her by eating her out before he began to pummel her into the bed in every position imaginable. There were no handcuffs this time, but plenty of hair pulling and insistence on calling him daddy and choking.

He came inside her again, and this time she made sure she got up to go to the bathroom first. He required no cleanup. That should automatically grant her first dibs.

But it was a mistake. After she’d taken care of everything she washed her hands and opened the door, only to find Javier standing there, jeans on but shirtless, his gun held lazily in his hand that rested against the wall as the other held up his badge.

“You wanna know what this means, sweetheart?” His voice was calm and even, but his eyes were dark.

Fuck. Had he looked when he said he’d close his eyes? Had she forgotten to hide something? Or please, for the love of God let this be some weird sort of kinky roleplay bullshit. He took a step towards her and she fought the urge to take a step back. It’d look too suspicious. Instead she tried to play dumb.

“Hmm…American Beurau of Fuckall?” she asked coyly.

“Wrong letters.”

“Unless you’ve been studying up on the Berlin Wall I don’t think you get to quiz me about anything.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror, frantically looking for something to do with her hands. Lipstick. Bingo. She pulled open her makeup drawer and grabbed the first tube she found before hurriedly applying it. She prayed he couldn’t see the way her hand was shaking.

Javier stepped fully into the bathroom now, standing directly behind her, his arm holding the gun wrapping around her waist while the other returned his badge to his back pocket. He pushed her forward until she was stuck between him and the counter.

“That thing better not be loaded,” she joked, “and your gun better be empty too.” She finished with her lips and began to toy with her hair instead, avoiding his eyes in the mirror.

“What’s this?” he asked, bending so his mouth pressed close to her ear, dangling something small in front of her.

“What does it look like?” she said with a shrug. Holy fuck. It was a baggie of coke. Her coke. She couldn’t tell if she’d left it out or he’d gone looking for it and honestly it didn’t matter right now. The only thing she needed to focus on was sounding as oblivious as possible. “If you want some go ahead, I don’t mind.”

His grip on her tightened painfully, the cold metal of his gun biting into her bare skin.

“Where’d you get it?”

“A friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“The same kind you are.”

His arm loosened its hold on her slightly, but she was still pinned between him and the sink.

“Do you know who your friend works for?”

“I mean, he’s never said, but given he pays me half in coke I think you and I can wager a guess.”

Javier nodded.

“How often do you see this friend?”

“Not often.” A lie. She’d only seen him once. But he made sure she knew where to find him again.

“Are you friends with anyone else he works with?”

She shook her head.

“Could you be?”

“Why?” she laughed. “Bored of me already? Worried I’ll go broke when you stop calling?”

“I’m D.E.A.”

She blinked. “Yeah, I still don’t know what that means.” Oh, yes I do.

“Drug Enforcement Administration.”

Time to play it up.

“Oh shit, Javi, listen, I can explain,” she stammered. “Please, don’t -”

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” he reassured her, placing the baggie on the counter and stroking her cheek. “Not unless you refuse my offer.”

“Offer?”

Okay, now she was lost.

“See your friend more often. See his friends. See his friends who are more powerful than he is. And I’ll keep seeing you, and if you tell me where they are or what they say or anything useful about what they’re doing, I’ll pay double.”

She gulped. On the one hand, she’d already been considering seeing cartel members more frequently for info. On the other, she wasn’t sure if she was prepared to really commit to being a prostitute. It wouldn’t be pretend anymore. Instead of a writer playing at being a whore, she’d be a whore who was writing a novel.

“You…you won’t get in trouble for sleeping with someone who does coke?” she whimpered, trying to still sound scared of him while inside she was really just scared shitless of herself and the mess she’d gotten into.

“What, you think you’re the only whore in Medellin who partakes? You think you’re the only one I see?”

She bit her lip. Why the fuck did that hurt?

“Right,” she nodded, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.

“You’re so naive,” he sighed. He placed his gun on the counter and returned his hand to her hip, thumb brushing over the bone with the same intensity as when they fucked. His lips found her neck and they began to press feverishly against her skin, gently biting her between every kiss.

His free hand reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, briefly letting go of her long enough to pull out a stack of bills and toss it next to his gun.

“The only info I have on him is old, probably useless to you now,” she stammered.

“That’s not what it’s for.” After shoving his wallet back into his jeans he gripped her waist and pushed his body so tightly against her back that her hips ground painfully into the sink. She gasped at the way it hurt, but it only made him groan into the crook of her neck, biting her harder now.

“J-Javi,” she breathed, not knowing which pain to focus on.

“Why do I want you so much?”

She blinked in surprise. His voice sounded so vulnerable. Raw and honest.

“I know I just told you to, but…I think about you fucking someone else and I can’t help but feel jealous.” His hands tugged down her panties and she could feel his growing erection pressing into her lower back.

What the fuck was she supposed to say to that?

Especially since she felt the same way.

Come on, think of something clever.

She couldn’t, her mind was completely scrambled between the way her hips were embedded against the cold porcelain, the way his lips were trailing across her collarbones and shoulder, the way his hands were pulling out his cock and pushing it between her legs.

His hand came to her other shoulder and bent her forward, her reflection flying towards her as she leaned closer to the mirror. She looked at him in the glass, noting the way his eyes were heavily lidded and mouth was hanging open slightly as he breathed heavily.

“I find myself daydreaming about being inside you all the time. It’s so fucking distracting,” he huffed, sliding into her and meeting her eyes in the mirror. She braced herself against the sink, crying out gently as her hips were pushed further into the counter. He pumped in and out of her slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“See how pretty you look when I fuck you?”

“Javi,” was the only response she could think of. Think of? There hadn’t been any thought in it, it slipped out of her as she threw her head back. He felt so good, and hurt so much. Not just the way he trapped her against the sink, but the way she wanted him.

She’d gotten attached.

She really was too naive, too inexperienced, too out of her depth.

Childish, almost, in the way she let herself develop feelings for him just because he was the first man to make her orgasm, the first man she dreamed about when he wasn’t there, the first man to make her feel desirable. She felt so silly, so ashamed of how she’d lost her professional objectivity.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice the tears that welled in her eyes. It wasn’t until one slipped down her cheek that she realized she was crying. Javier pulled out of her immediately, turning her around to face him.

“Am I being too rough?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

“No,” she shook her head, her voice pathetically weak. “Go harder.” Maybe the physical pain would drown out the embarrassment and confusion currently filling her mind.

“I won’t if you’re crying.”

“Please just do it. I’ll use our safe word if it’s too much.”

His eyes surveyed her dubiously for a moment before he turned her back around, pushing her against the counter once more and bending her forward. His hands found her waist as he began to thrust into her again, grunting as she tensed around him.

She watched his face in the mirror, a few more tears spilling out her eyes before they stopped as she steadied herself. Focus on the physical, she thought. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip so hard she was sure she’d break the skin. Her hips would be bruised again, much worse this time, but she began to relish in the way her bones ground against the sink.

He picked up his pace, slamming into her with stuttering breaths.

“No one feels as good as you,” he whispered.

“Don’t.” She hadn’t meant to say it. But it came out of her mouth anyway.

He froze inside her.

“Don’t what?” he sounded concerned again. Sweet.

Stop it.

“Don’t be nice to me. Don’t say nice things to me. Just fuck me and go.”

“I - are you sure you’re okay?”

Oh, great. She could feel herself getting choked up again. “Javi, just do what you’re paying me for.”

He sighed heavily and pulled out of her. “Fine. But not like this.” He pulled her up and shut the bathroom door, pushing her back up against it and kissing her gently, his fingertips softly brushing over her cheeks and neck. His hands trailed lower, sliding around her to undo her bra, pulling it off of her carefully and placing it on the counter beside his gun. His thumbs circled her nipples as he brought his lips back to hers, tongue hesitantly slipping into her mouth.

“You made your lip bleed,” he said, pulling back and looking at her with furrowed brows.

“Good.” Her voice was flat. The way he was treating her so softly was making everything worse.

“What’s going on?”

Frustrated, she grabbed his wrist and thrust his hand against her throat. “Please stop being like this. I want you to hurt me.”

His fingers flexed weakly against her neck, but still, he didn’t let go. “You’re acting different. Something’s off.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Just fuck me.”

“Look, you don’t have to be an informant for me if you don’t want to, I won’t get you in trouble, just -”

She went on her tiptoes and kissed him as hard as she could, her hand wrapping around and stroking his length.

“I’ll do whatever you want if you just finish this the way you started,” she breathed. “Please.”

Her touch seemed to bring his base instincts back into control, because his fingers began to tighten around her throat while his other hand hooked under her knee and pulled her leg up, pushing it beside her chest and testing the limits of her flexibility.

It burned. He held her leg in place so firmly she could feel the muscles straining as if they were ready to snap. As both his hands were occupied it was up to her to guide him into her center, but once he was inside her she let her hands brace herself against the door.

Their height difference made things a little awkward until he finally released her throat and scooped her other leg up, lifting and holding her against the door with his body as he thrust into her again and again. Her hands came to his shoulders, gripping them to feel the way the muscles were pulled taut with her weight.

He buried his face in her neck, panting against her hot skin.

There was no pain now, only pleasure, and it was almost too much to bear. He felt so good against her, inside her. She ran her fingers through his hair and breathed in the smell of sweat and sex and faded cologne that encompassed him.

She didn’t want to cum. But she did anyway, biting her lip again to keep herself from saying his name. She couldn’t do it to herself. It would hurt too much  in the wrong way. In the way that came from inside.

“Good girl,” he murmured as she pulsed around him, legs shivering.

She hung her head back against the door, closing her eyes and trying to numb herself to his touch. It sounded like he’d finish soon and then he would leave and then she would never see him again.

She wouldn’t allow herself to.

Fuck it. Her book would only take place from the cartel’s perspective.

It wasn’t worth getting her heart broken over.

Because the money on the counter beside her bra and his gun was all she meant to him, all she’d ever be worth to him. And if she fucked him one more time it might kill her.

He came inside her, groaning as he held her against the door one long moment before gently bringing her down. As soon as her feet the floor she was picking up her clothes and the money, pushing through the door without looking at him. She rushed to get dressed before he could follow her, but she only got as far as her bra and panties and shirt before she heard his footsteps coming out of the bathroom.

“Cigarette?” he asked, walking past her and picking up his own shirt off the ground. He turned to study her while he buttoned it, but she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

“No,” came her blunt reply. She debated putting on her shorts but the minute he was gone she’d be under her covers feeling like shit, so she decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead she stood awkwardly against the back of the couch, arms crossed, looking everywhere in the room but at him. When she heard him light himself a cig she thought she should polish off the last of her wine.

Not wanting to risk walking near him in her suddenly unbearably small apartment, she decided to forgo actually stepping into the kitchen to get it and instead leaned over the counter from as far away as possible to grab it, her hips aching in protest as she did so. She took a deep swig before moving to go back to her perch on the couch, but when she turned she found herself nearly running right into his half-exposed chest.

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked quietly.

Defiant, she met his gaze and was taken aback by how sad he looked.

Goddammit.

All she wanted to do was kiss away his frown and push back the messy hair from his face.

“Don’t show up unannounced next time,” was her only response.

Something flickered across his face so quickly she didn’t get the chance to recognize it before it was gone.

“Meet you at the bar, then?”

“Sure,” she nodded before pushing past him, resting on the back of the couch and taking another draw.

She’d never go to that bar again.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Beth and WOD!Billy - ❤♡❥ღ💕💘💝💓💌💟💙💚💜💛

This || Not Accepting

❤: who is more affectionate in public? in private? 

In public Billy becomes a distant shore. Too far to reach no matter how hard she swims, how much sea water she ends up swallowing, how far she stretches out her fingers to reach him. To hold his hand, to press her cheek against his arm, to take umbrage in the shelter of all that he is. He reminds her there are cameras everywhere. There are covert agents like himself, there’s research assistants, Extraordinary Citizens. That are all on the Front Lines ready to devour any mistake he makes. To bring the whole thing crashing down on their heads, and that as radiant as he finds his older sister, that she is not exactly shy about flying her Deviant flag, is she?

It crushes some of her spirit and Billy regrets having to do it, but it’s for the Greater Good. He always tells himself that but alone, in his own sanctum, those beliefs are starting to crumble. One part of him wonders if this is all a test of his truest loyalties to his convention, carefully constructed in the Ivory Tower by Control. Forcing him to choose between humanity and three very high value targets. If capture and indoctrination is the plan, or eradication if he doesn’t manage to bring them over. Another part of him, the one that is still fur and fang and not quite the eidolon of his Enlightened Genius shakes its head in shame. Billy should know better. He should remember that dying light in her eyes and swear to make it up to her, no matter the cost. Maybe this is malfunction. Maybe this is what madness feels like. ♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

There’s a movie she’s made him watch, that she’s seen a dozen times, enough that she doesn’t miss the words, doesn’t need them to flash across the screen. She curls up against him and jokingly tells him the main protagonist is clearly an Ecstatic ~one of her so called Nine Traditions~ and that she thinks the paradigm contained in it is beautiful.

He enjoys it because it makes his apartment feel less lonely, less sterile. It leaves the ghost of her as an impression against his skin. The scent of popcorn and the coconut and sandalwood and cinnamon that always clings to her skin will now linger on his. She’s soft and curved and quiet, all the things that his world is not. And he has that weird feeling that she somehow bypasses his circuitry, his implants, even though that should be impossible, to dig a place inside of him that she can fit.

But even when she’s gone, a line from the film sticks with him. One he can’t shake, so he hides it in an internal file buried so deep that even he will have trouble finding it again.

"Have you never met a woman who inspires you to love? Until your every sense is filled with her? You inhale her. You taste her. You see your unborn children in her eyes and know that your heart has at last found a home. Your life begins with her, and without her it must surely end." 

❥: who is more likely to plan something big for valentine's day?

He’s going to punch the other two dead in the face when they get back. Because it can’t be anything less than a conspiracy between the three of them that he goes to sleep in his own bed, all algorithms in suspend mode, only to wake up to the sound of waves lapping against the wood and fibreglass of the hold, the sea choppy and cold and grey. Like the sky if he bothers to look out of a porthole.

The bunk is a little cramped for his liking, not exactly built for a man of his stature and construction. The benefit of hypertech enhanced limbs is that they don’t exactly ache for the narrowed confinement. The space beside him still holds the ghost of her warmth, her scent, and it isn’t hard to imagine the sheets wrapped around her lithe frame. Hair spilling over his arm like a dark flood. But it’s her voice that teases him awake.  “So since we no can do da whole public kine,” she murmurs, “I t’ought I’d surprise ya. Ren’ned one boat for couple days. An’ bonus... my friends who helpin’ us out... says dey know of a crew a pirates dat need t’ be... how ya say it? Sanitise?” He winces at the word, and how close it is to the reality of it. He raises a brow, loath to interrupt her when her voice is still raspy from sleep, and because everyone else is used to discounting her, cutting her off. “Cause dey fangy-fangy/bitey-bitey.” She makes comical fangs with her fingers curled in front of her mouth. He slides out of bed and into a slumped seating position and she comes over, sits beside him. She presses a mug of scalding hot tea into his hands. It’s dark. Slightly sweet. It doesn’t matter when she smiles. “Happy Volentimes day. An’ good mornin’.” He presses his nose into the crown of her hair. “Mornin’ Izzy.”

ღ: who is more likely to initiate hand-holding in public?

Standing on the upper deck, face in the wind, eyes closed, Billy can hear it. The distinct creak of timbre. The whip-snap of the canvas in a gale, his hands weathered and calloused as he climbs the shrouds to secure a ratline. Everything is heavy with sea spray and the acrid smell of spent powder. The rush of having overtaken a heavy vessel. The pounding of his heart after a successful boarding action. New men aboard. Supplies and wealth taken and secured below. He can see faces and hear names that were long since dead, maybe never existed at all.  There’s a word on the tip of his tongue but when he reaches for it, it vanishes. It tells him he doesn’t really want to know because Billy doesn’t really forget, does he? He doesn’t. And so the only person standing against him is himself.

He blames her with her talk of pirates and her gift of the open sea past the international dateline. Gives him fanciful day dreams, that’s all it is.  He stiffens when he feels skin on skin. Rudimentary procedure tells him it’s her before he even opens his eyes. Which he chooses not to. Instead he curls his fingers around hers; too small, too delicate. Afraid he’ll crush them if he isn’t careful. Afraid he’ll crush her. 

💕: who is more likely to make huge declarations of love in front of other people?

“I will NOT have you shaming the family, Elizabeth!” For a moment with his voice roused in anger, Andy sounds exactly like their father. And she stands there, taking the brunt of it, doe eyes full of a shame and grief that did not come close to being able to be described. She is reduced to something less than herself, something barely more than a child the way she twists her fingers into the waist of her skirt, head tilted toward the floor where maybe that gaze could burn a hole into the wood floors. Shoulders forward and down, all of her making itself as small as possible. Perhaps protectively, perhaps because it cannot hold up the heaviness of Andy’s anger. “....m’ sorry.”  Barely two words, slurred into one.

She hadn’t meant to do or say anything wrong. She hadn’t meant to make a scene at the party. Hadn’t meant to make Billy chase her into the room. Of course, there’s a lot of things she doesn’t mean and it makes it so hard to breathe sometimes.

She can’t say she really understands why he’s mad. Why he’d waited until everyone, including Billy had left, why Baz’s half-hearted interference from the kitchen where he’s cleaning up... “Leave’r ‘lone, Andy” ... goes unheard. “May I be ‘scused?” “Go to bed. We’ll deal with damage control in the morning.” Beth decides then and there, she hates Halloween.

💘: who developed a crush on the other first?

It’s called the Westermarck Effect. A psychological hypothesis that people who live in close domestic proximity during the first few years of their lives become desensitised to sexual attraction with one another. And when a brother and sister, for example, are brought up separately, never meeting until they reach adulthood or adolescence they might find one another highly sexually attractive. The science clearly bears out.

But he wants to hear it from Andy’s own mouth.  The source of his bitterness, his distance, the rage that has him lifting hands and laying them on his little brother. Panting, he looks up from where he’s crouched. Jaw hard. Back of his hand swiping at the lick of blood on his lip. He hitches himself to his feet and reaches out a hand, waits until Andy reaches back and helps pull the other man to his feet. An honest dust up that’s gotten most things out of the way so that they can actually talk. “So tell me, Andrew, is it that she’s makin’ eyes, or that it’s not at you?”

💝: who spends more time (possibly overthinking) what presents to get the other?

The adverts on the telly and radio and every bit of media give off suggestions. Every kiss begins with Kay. De Beers A Diamond is Forever. It’s all part of the carefully cultivated stratagems of the Syndicate. A means to control the economy based on the products it chooses to endorse, and which they decide to bury.  But the problem isn’t his fellow conventions, but rather the fact that Beth isn’t that kind of woman. She doesn’t want for material things, not in the way that can be neatly wrapped up in a box with a bow. She wants for the sea in her soul. She wants for a quiet acceptance. She wants for the soft kisses and hands pressed to hearts vowing forever at the end of the fairy tale. She wants an end to the War or at least an escape from it. She wants all of humanity to achieve this mystical Ascendance of hers, that reminds him of a song from the 70s or something What can you give a woman like that? You don’t exactly. You can’t. It means switching sides. It means becoming a traitor to your own. Not that she’s ever asked. Not that she has to, what with everything that is changing within him. She’s shown him things that he never contemplated before, things he’s never hoped to experience. For the first time, he’s starting to question the party line. And that’s dangerous. “Let me see the other one. The one with the pearls.”

💓: who initiates most physical contact?

She tucks her feet under his leg when they’re cold. Which is always. Her fingers find a home intertwined with his the moment he stops typing. Even if there’s a mile of couch, she tries to climb into his lap at every opportunity. She talks with her hands and smiles with her eyes and her lips at once. Small kisses on the back of his neck. Somehow she’s always brushing against him as she walks by. She’s always been the physical type. It’s a language as well as a form of affection and he thinks he’s starting to figure it out. Or at least he thinks he has, but then she changes the rules.

Suddenly she doesn’t quite meet his eyes. How she finds a way to not be in the same room even if they are seated right next to him. When she dances with him it feels like they’re on other planets.

For all that he wants to give chase, he doesn’t. Gives her space. Hopes that’s enough to bring her back around because he’s starting to miss the little things. Teeth has other things to say about it but you don’t always listen to your not so imaginary weasel.

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

Sheryl from R and D eyes him when he laughs out loud. He waves a hand and recites the pithier parts of an Onion article he’d read weeks before. All while staring at the face she’s making, rubber glove on her head like a cockscomb. She’s always sending him little things. A picture from the ER. Something silly she saw on the way to or from work, depending on what shifts she’s taken. Corny little jokes he knows has taken her weeks to come up with. Things he memorises and deletes because he doesn’t want a single trace of her that can be caught by the higher ups. But that doesn’t mean that he wants her to stop. In a lot of ways it speaks volumes that she cares enough about him, that she thinks about him as much as he does her, that she sends them. His favourite so far is the Giraffe prodding a duck with one enormously long leg. He normally doesn’t send anything back, no channel completely secure, but he does make a point to mention it when he gets back to his place. Which reminds him, she’s been spending an awful lot of time there.

💟: who spends time reading their zodiac compatibility?

She sits sprawled on the floor. There’s books and charts, some ancient and some new, all around her. She has graph paper, pencils and pens, a compass and slide rule, all the trappings of higher mathematics. But she’s not solving complex equations or a new hypothesis for string theory. “It’s complete rubbish!” he laughs, stirring the garlic green beans around the wok with a touch of sesame oil. “The stars aren’t even in the same position as they were back then, some have burnt out, the gravitational axis of-” “Nu-uh!” she counters, just as amused, just as passionate. “Astrology one of da very firs’ sciences, William. In fact, ya very own Celestial Mastahs-” Void Engineers, Beth. They’re called the Void Engineers. “-spoke wide an’ advocated it in academic circle. Related it t’ astronomy, alchemy, me-meat- “Meteorology.” “Yeah, dat. An medicine. Da Greek, Chinese, Mayans, Egyptians, Macedonians. All’a da big civilisation. Even in da political circles of literature, li’dat Dante Alighieri an’ Chaucer, Shakespeare, Lope De Vega, Calderon de la Barca, who I don’ t’ink was related t’ Hannibal but mebbe. No was til da nineteen century when you guys edged forward wi’ da Sleepahs-” “Beth?” “Yeah?” “Could you come here a second?” She rises like a very strange Polynesian Venus from her sea of pseudoscience and pads her way over to him. He leans down and kisses her gently on the lips. She pulls back from him and shakes her head, flashing him her shark-smile. “See? See dat? Spoken li’ true Libra.”

💙: who is more protective?

He watches her from near the treeline, crouched down low, one set of knuckles in the deep loam offering himself balance. She rabbit runs and for a moment he is consumed more in her motion than watching the surroundings. Shapely legs and perfect little feet fleet, flashing their tawny hue in the sun. Braids bouncing down her back. Go, girl, go. She almost makes it. But on her blind side there’s a blur. Taller than her. Near twice as broad. Intends to take her down like a lion on the Savannah. Billy sees red. Literally. And he springs. Primium laced muscles and bone primed and pumping at optimal levels. Gives him a deceptive speed and the length of his stride eats up the earth at his feet. He clips the body at the waist, drives him to the ground. Makes him drop the weapons at hand that break harmlessly open. There’s a struggle. Of course there is. Half-powered punches that gain his victim no leverage, a rolling tussle where he keeps coming on top, shoulder crashing into chest until he turns and coughs. Gasping for air. Body changing to something harder than flesh, but slow. He gets in one more good punch.

“Billy.” He looks up. Andy’s standing there. Pinning her in his arms. Her feet dangle off the ground, her eyes wild. One of his hands wrapped around her throat. A short jerking twist and she’d-- ”Let him go.” He blinks. Looks down at Baz, sees him for the first time. Realises the weapons are water balloons. And Beth? She still has the football in hand, because she’d crossed the finish line. Their point, then. He still doesn’t understand all the rules to this combination flag {American} football and water balloons and trivia game. Billy hitches to his feet. Offers an apologetic hand to Baz who declines. Politely. When Baz crosses over to Andy’s side, Riley lets her go. Gives her a little shove toward Billy. There’s a fading hand-print around her neck, but she smiles and kneads her head into his chest. He puts an arm around her and glares at the other two who are checking each other over.

Riley will learn one of these days that he’ll keep his hands off her. And he’ll learn it a broken bone at a time, his or someone else’s.

💚: who tends to get sick more often? who is better at taking care of the other?

She stitches his skin. He feeds her soup. They sleep like the dead.  She tends to his scars the way he shepherds her dreams. They work.

💜: who said "i love you" first? or, if neither has said it yet, who is more likely to say it first?

He said once, the first time. She rejected it out of turn. She repeats it later. They never speak it again. But they do everything to make it manifest. Every touch and every look everything they do for one another.  But the words sit in their throats. Haunt their eyes. Loud. Shrieking. How the rest of the world doesn’t hear it, he’ll never know. She’s asleep now, and his fingers trail through her hair. She looks so innocent, so untouched by anything, even him as her chest rises and falls with quiet breathing.

How many times are they going to spiral around each other?  As many as it takes. Until they can howl down the heavens.

💛: who believes in soulmates?

Nails dig into the back of his neck as he holds her fast. One arm around her hips. One climbing the trellis of her ribs like ivy, fingers resting in the space between her shoulders as she arches back. His face pressed into the wide valley between her breasts. The harsh echo of his panting breaths, the sweeter song of the guttural moan he’s dragged out of her throat, her throat exposed, mouth parted in a rictus of pleasure-pain. She calls it the Lotus position, the way she’s seated in his lap, and he’s buried to the hilt. Legs wrapped like chains around him as the last twitches and jerks bleed him dry inside of her. She calls this tantric. Finishing together. Raising power. He calls it love and his is hers and hers alone. And there’s only one way that will ever end. “Death first, Izzy.” He writes the words across her sweat soaked skin. “Always.” She answers and swans her neck into his shoulder where her teeth draw blood.

[leelee10898]

Chikara: Kanashimi (1/?)

Ellie wheeler's senior year turned out to be one she would never forget. Now in college, leaving behind the life she grew to love, she did anything but thrive.

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Raiting: Mature. Series will contain, violence, death, sexual situations, and bad decisions.

Ellie quietly wandered the halls of Langston, head down, never noticed by anyone and she never spoke to anyone either.  It was just her and her thoughts, her roommate flaked out the first two weeks of fall semester. Not like she ever really talked to the girl. Her day consists of getting up, going to school, homework, dinner, shower, bed. Rinse, lather, repeat, Every day for 6 months.

She tried to keep her mind busy,  she never fully tuned it out. Behind all the math problems and research papers, he was always there like a cancerous tumor sucking the life out of her. she didn't hate it, it was quite the opposite really, she loved it, she needed it to get by the long days and lonely nights.

The night they finally took the brotherhood down, was one of the proudest moments she felt. They watched as Jason was hauled off in handcuffs, a tiny sliver of justice for Kaneko. She said goodbye to Toby, Ximena, even Mona, she knew they would move on from the crew. When Logan said goodbye it stung, she cared a great deal for him. He was the first guy she had ever kissed, or even had feelings for but, he wasn't Colt. From the moment they met, he drove her crazy, he annoyed her to no end and he was a complete jerk but she was drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

She had just finished submitting her final paper to her English teacher when she ran to her dorm room, grabbed her bags and headed to the airport. When she left for the summer program at Langston she told her dad she would see him at thanksgiving. She reluctantly left her car behind, a deal her father and her came to for breaks such as Thanksgiving, Christmas and Spring break, In the summer she would drive home. It was finally Thanksgiving and she couldn't wait.  she pressed the imaginary gas pedal on the airplane floor, secretly hoping it would get her there faster.

The sound of a screaming child filled the cabin, Ellie popped her earbuds in, attempting to drown out the noise. Just a little bit longer,  almost there she kept telling herself. Once they landed, she grabbed her luggage and looked for her dad. She seen him standing in the pick up area holding one of those makeshift signs that read Wheeler. "Dad, you're such a dork." She flung her arms around him. "Yeah, the coolest dork you'll ever meet." He retorted.

They got in the car and made the drive to the house, sure she couldn't wait to be home.  She was looking forward to seeing Riya and Darius, having Thanksgiving dinner at her grandparents, but she had more pressing matters to attend to. They pulled into the driveway and Ellie ran into the house,  flinging her luggage on the bed. She had to play it carefully, not to tip her dad off as to her plans. She came down stairs and like clockwork her dad asked if she was hungry. "Sure thing dad." She smirked, knowing after he ate he would want to take a nap.

"So. Any plans with Riya? She's home from Hartfeld this week." Dad asked as he put the dishes in the sink.  "Yeah we actually made some plans to catch up. Speaking of, can I use your car to see if shes home?" Her dad reached in his pocket handing her the keys "Just be careful, I'm going to take a nap."

Ellie ran up to her room, she flung open her suitcase and changed out of her leggings and baggy t shirt into a pair of jeans and a crop top.

She ran to the car, turning the key as the engine roared to life. It wasn't her car, but it would do.

She made the drive into the city, stopping at where the sideshow was, but nothing was there. She pulled down another street and parked in front of the familiar building. Not much had been done with the burned out shell of its former self, it looked as if time stood still. It was boarded up in attempts to keep people out, she walked around the building until she found a loose board and slipped in. The inside was hardly touched, some sorting had been done, she knew Colt had come back the day he gave her the cactus. There wasn't much left of the place, some debris strewn about, some shells of cars that once sat in the bay. It was clear nobody had been here, and the realization that nobody was coming back began to set it.

She thought she needed to come here, that maybe she would find something other then the burnt remains of the place that changed her, or someone.  The tears began to sting her eyes, so many memories in such a short time. Ever since they parted ways, she felt like a part of her was missing. There was a gaping hole in her heart that ached, she grasped her chest as ler legs failed her. For 6 months she kept her phone glued to her, in hopes someone would just reach out, for 6 months she prayed that someone would come for her, that she wasn't alone, and she meant something to them.

She sat alone on the floor of Kaneko's garage in a heap of ash and soot, crying her eyes out.  They were gone, you're just a tourist ringing in her head.  She was in fact alone, they weren't  coming back for her and it was time to try and move on.

She made her way back home, covered head to toe in the black substance that stained the floors of the garage, much like the stains on her heart. After a long cry in the hot shower, Ellie pulled open her closet door and started to hang her clothes inside when she spotted something tucked away behind her prom dress. She couldn't imagine what it might be, it was larger than any of her clothes. Gripping the petal pink fabric she pulled the dress forward,  giving easier access to the mystery item. Her fingers began to tremble, her nerves on edge as she ripped the clothing hanging in front of it off the hangers and tossed them to the floor reaching her goal item.

Ellie staggered backwards, item in hand.  the backs of her knees hitting the mattress causing her to sit. She stared blankly at the jacket in front of her, Colts leather jacket. How did it get there? She didn't think it was there when she packed for Langston, but could she have missed it?

She held the soft leather to her face, the scent of his cologne putting her immediately at ease. This was all she had left of him, that and the few photos and texts she had saved in her phone. Ellie slipped the jacket on, it was over sized but she didn't care. She placed her hands in the pockets pulling it flush to her body as if it were his arms wrapped around her.  Her fingers brushed against something and she pulled it from the pocket.

She stared down at the folded piece of paper, she recognized the stationary, it was one from her desk. Unfolding it slowly, tears began to well on her eyes in anticipation. His penmanship was far better then she anticipated but she knew better then to expect to unexpected when it came to Colt Kaneko.

Ellie,

If you are reading this that means you have found my jacket in your closet. I am risking everything coming here and sneaking in.   I just needed you to have it, to have something of me with you in this cold, unforgiving world.

Im not good with words, and feelings so im going to try my best. I love you Ellie Wheeler, I probably have since the moment I laid eyes on you at the side show, only I couldn't admit it to myself then.

I know you think that I don't care but leaving you, was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I meant what I said, we will see each other again.   

I watched you give your speech at graduation,  It took everything I had in me not to run out there and kiss you. I am so proud of you valedictorian. And just a little while ago when you drove away for College, I just had to see you if only at a distance. Keeping you safe will always be my priority,  and with the fbi breathing down my back, letting you go was the only way.

Live your life to the fullest Elle, don't cry for me im not worth your tears. Have fun in college, make friends, fall in love. You are amazing and you deserve to be happy. I hope that when our paths do cross again, you accomplished everything you set out to. I think your dad may be home so I have to run. Remember I will always Love you Ellie, even if I can't be with you.

Love, Colt.

She closed the letter, tears streaming down her face as she laid down on her bed. He was at her graduation, and when she left for Langston. She was hurting but she knew she had to move on, and now with his jacket she had a piece of him with her.

Two weeks went by in the blink of an eye, before she knew it she was back at Langston.  She drug her luggage down the long hall to her dorm room, she reached for her key, opening her door she walked into a different room then when she left. The opposite side of the room, once empty was decorated in pink, pink as far as the eye could see. Ellie flung her bags onto the bed, collapsing next to them when the sound of the door opening startled her. She sat up, eyes wide staring at the person in front of her. "Hey roomie!"

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[oliverwxod]

Whatever it takes (Part 9) - Steve Rogers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (and sometimes Bucky x reader)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Summary: Angels and Demons have been sworn enemies their whole lives, that’s just how it is. When Bucky decides to go against these unsaid rules, it brings a set of consequences into the lives of those who spend time with him. In Y/n’s case that consequence is an angel named Steve Rogers.

A/N:  YOU CAN CATCH UP ON THE PREVIOUS PARTS OF IT IN MY MASTERLIST IN MY BIO, also this had to be cut in half bc it was too long to post according to Tumblr??x

(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9)

“Bucky I don’t know why you’re being such a hypocrite!” Y/n was so tired of Bucky’s constant moaning about her not spending enough time with him as of recently.

“Oh come on Y/n you can’t seriously be denying that you haven't changed!” he spat. He was just as riled up as Y/n was and she knew any second now they would be screaming at each other and causing total destruction to anything in their paths. 

“I haven’t changed Bucky. You’re the one whose changed! you’re the one who started hanging out with an Angel first, you can’t blame me for doing the exact same thing” she glowered. 

“I don’t like Steve” he spoke, gritting his teeth, jaw clenching so hard he thought he had dislocated the bone. He was trying so hard to hold in the rage knowing it would make every single thing so much worse.

“I don’t care if you don’t like him. I do.” She said, trying to walk past him to show she was so over the conversation. She should have known he wouldn’t let her. 

“You like him?” he laughed “you like that piece of shit?” 

“He’s not a piece of shit Bucky, he’s nice, nicer than you ever will be!” she glared. 

“I’ve never claimed to be nice” he laughed spitefully, “ it goes against everything I am and everything you are! See! You’ve changed, you just proved my point” 

“I said Steve was nice, not me” she said, making to move away again, but he grabbed her arm in a tight grip pulling her back to face him. 

“we’re not done talking” he said under his breath.

“Well I am” she said meeting his stare, eyes as dark as his own. 

“No.” 

“Fuck off Bucky” she spoke shoving him backwards and off of her. His grip released from her arm, but he wasn’t letting her leave, shoving her back harder and making her lose her balance and tumble towards the wall. 

“Bucky!” she glared, he was never intentionally rough with her like this. She was too taken aback, staring at him in disbelief as she saw the panic flash through him before he was on her, shoving her gently this time against the wall, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“I’m sorry” he spoke ‘I didn’t meant to push you but I really need you to listen to me”

“It’s okay, just don’t push me like that again” she spoke quietly.

“I won’t. But please, I don’t want to beg you here but I will if you don’t listen to me” he said gaining her attention at how serious he was being, Bucky was never serious. 

“Okay” 

“You remember that time we nearly died escaping from that Victorian Mafia gang?” he asked quietly, a small smile tugging at his face. 

“Yeah” she spoke, a small laugh escaping her lips at the memory. “You got shot in the Butt” 

“Yeah, we had a lot of fun causing trouble” he spoke, eyes glazing over at the memories he had with her. He didn’t want to lose her. “I’d never want for that to change, so you need to stop seeing him.”

“I don’t want to stop seeing him” she whispered. 

“I’ve been doing some research about your parents” he said. 

“My parents?” Y/n asked confused. She never really knew her parents only knowing her Mother was a human and her Father was a demon. 

“Y/n I think you were lied to. I think your Mother was an Angel” he said. 

“what?.. how did you even begin to think that?” this was so random to her, she hadn’t given her parents a thought for a long time, why was Bucky bringing this up and why now of all times?

“I spoke to Tony.” He said.

“So you don’t actually know?” she asked.

“I’m almost 100 percent sure Y/n” he said. “can you trust me here?” 

She nodded, he was her longest and best friend, she didn’t have a reason not too.

“What's in this for you?” she asked, knowing him to well. Their must be something in it for him to be bringing this up. 

“Nothing, I just want you to be safe. You need to know” 

“So what does it mean then? My parents being from both sides?” 

“I think, from what Tony has said, that there’s a chance that you could become one of them, an Angel.” He spoke the words with a hint of disgust. “If you wanted it that badly...”

“What?” she asked shocked, pulling away form him to walk across the room, Bucky followed, watching her freak out.

“I need to go and talk to Steve” she spoke, causing Bucky to freeze in anger, a bitter laugh played in his head silently, she had to be joking right? Had he mis-heard her? 

“Whta?” he spat, his voice taking on a dangerous tone “why the fuck do you need to go and talk to him?” 

“He might know more” 

“Y/n do not fucking go to his” he spat. 

“I’m going to Steve’s” she spoke “there’s nothing you can do about it” 

“Fine, just fuck off and run to him” he said disregarding her with a last glare before moving into his room and slamming the door so hard that the room shook. 

Y/n huffed glaring daggers into his shut door, grabbing her coat and leaving the apartment with a slam just as loud to show him how angry she was at him. 

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

Steve heard a quiet knock at his apartment door, standing up in curiosity and racking his brains for who it could be at this time of night. 

He opened the door cautiously, ready to shut it immediately incase it was trouble, only to be surprised at the different kind of trouble that stood in front of him. Y/n was standing there, a small sad frown on her face.

“Y/n?” he spoke gently, she looked up meeting his eyes with a painful look before she threw herself into his arms, leaning up to kiss his quickly. He was taken aback but kissed her back immediately, his hands wrapping around her frame and bringing her into the apartment and out of the cold hallway. 

“Whats wrong?” he asked pulling away from her lips as she dragged the two of them to his sofa, pushing him down into a sitting position before straddling him and kissing him with more force. Her hands left a burning touch on his skin, finding their way underneath his t-shirt and exploring the taut skin and muscles. She wanted him badly. 

“Y/n” he spoke between kisses, chasing them before his brain told him to stop, something wasn’t right and he needed to find out before he pursued this any further. “Y/n love, stop” he said, managing to pull away from her searing kisses.

She stopped, putting distance between them, not use to hearing someone tell her that before. 

“what?” she asked confused, his stare was intriguing and yet held a certain kind of sternness. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

She nodded confidently, too confidently for Steve’s liking.

“Steve, I want you” she pleaded “ a lot” 

“Y/n I -” he wasn’t sure what to say, he was rarely in a situation like this. A burning desire he had felt only once before was stirring inside of him, eyes darker than Y/n had ever seen on him.

“Do you want me too?” she asked, looking up to meet his eyes. 

He nodded. “of course I do, but we shouldn’t, not now” Steve knew Y/n was the kind of person who knew what she wanted and got exactly that.

“Steve please, I like you- you like me. There’s nothing wrong with that, and I promise I'm not pulling some demon shit here” 

He responded by leaning close, kissing her gently at first, his touch soft and gentle and Y/n couldn't’ help but compare it to Bucky’s rough grip, the contrast between the two men was strikingly different. 

It was as Steve was blinded by passion, his arms effortlessly lifting her up as he flipped their positions, pushing her down into the sofa as his body pressed tightly against hers.

“I really like you” Steve admitted, needing her to know this, hoping that if they did this she would understand what it mean’t to him. He took sex very seriously. 

“I know, I really like you too Steve” she whispered, watching as his face pulled into a smile. 

It was wrong but it was so right, having Y/n in his arms like this made him believe for a minute that she was an angel. Because in that moment to him she was. She had come along at a tough time in Steve’s life and she had managed to fill the gaping hole that had settled in his heart since Peggy left him. 

He wasn’t sure when or how it had happened but it had and there was nothing he could do about it but give in. 

Y/n let out a cry as he rocked his hips into hers, her legs resting behind his back, pulling his bare torso against hers. His skin against her skin felt unbelievable, a spark of electric energy or the energy created by a demon and Angels touch. Neither of them knew. 

Steve’s weight pressed down against her body felt like she was home. 

She was pushing his jeans down with a hurried touch, trying to get as close to him as possible, he leaned back slightly to help, kicking them off and across the floor without a care He was never normally this impulsive.

He was back on her in seconds, bare skin pressed closely to bare skin. Hands roaming each other and exploring every inch of expose skin.

Steve’s hands rested on her hips and she could feel the bruises Bucky had left  from where he gripped her tightly the other day, she forced herself to forget about him for the next hour. Steve forced her head backwards gently and away from where her lips rested in the crook of his neck so he could see her face. 

“I’m not having sex with you here” He mumbled, surprising her as she let out a squeal by lifting her up in the air and walking the two of them to his bedroom. Y/n let out a laugh and a quiet giggle as he playfully chucked her onto the soft sheets of his bed, meeting his eyes as he watched her with amusement. 

He was on her in seconds, admiring the way she smiled and the way she seemed to relax under his touch. 

“you’re amazing you know?” Steve spoke, pulling another laugh from her, Steve thought he could spend all day complimenting her just so he could hear the sound. 

“shut up” she spoke, a grin on her face as she pulled him down with her hands behind his neck into another searing kiss. 

Y/n turned her head to the side burning her moans into the pillow.

“Steve…” She whimpered. He thrust his hips forward at the sound making her whimper louder. She wriggled under his grip trying to force her own hip upwards to gain some friction against his boxer shorts.

Her heels were trying to push his boxers down. He got the message, reaching down to pull them off, kicking them away off of the bed.

Steve lifted her head to make her look at him, she nodded knowing he was asking a silent question.

One of his hands came between her legs, teasingly grazing the tops of her thighs before moving to where she needed to be touched the most before pulling her underwear down her legs and chucking them to the bedside table. 

She shivered as his fingers toyed with her. He removed his hand to grip himself, before running the tip along her entrance, groaning at the wetness.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He had to be inside her.

He pushed in slowly, knowing it would take time to adjust to his size.

She cried out, her hands gripping onto his shoulders, moving to his lower back when he pulled out and thrust back.

“Fuck, Steve” she groaned, clenching tightly around him. Her hand moved to his shoulders again as he moved his hips forward slowly but hard, the force causing her to move up the bed. It was better than she had ever imagined.

His lips pressed softly to her neck, humming gently and creating tingling sensations along her skin. His cock dragging inside her, heavy and wanton as he slammed his hips forward to meet hers. Steve’s eyes were closed in pleasure as he allowed himself to feel free and let go of everything. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself this kind of pleasure. 

He watched her squirm, hands twisting into the bed sheets. It was thrilling and Steve couldn’t quite believe he had given in to his own rules. He never imagined himself to ever be won over by the one thing he was always taught to stay away from. Maybe he had started to lose his faith in the whole system, after all everyone had the potential to feel the same emotions, it was all down to choice at the end of the day and Y/n and Steve were an example of this. 

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

The morning came quicker than expected, Y/n waking early but deciding to stay in Steve’s bed, wrapped tightly in his arms and watching him sleep peacefully. She smiled gently, scanning his features and wondering how the hell this had happened and how the hell he was making her feel all these unfamiliar feelings.

“Morning” Steve’s husky voice made her jump, realising she had been lost in thought while staring at him. “enjoying the view doll?” he asked.

She smiled before throwing one leg over his hips and pulling herself up to straddle him. He stared up at her with a lazy smile, one hand resting on his chest and the other now supporting her on the side of one of her thighs, rubbing softly with his thumb.

She leaned down to give him quick kiss, finding herself being pulled down flush against his chest as Steve deepened it.

“I need to go home” she spoke, pulling away and watching as he frowned at the thought of her returning home to Bucky. He hummed gently.

“why so soon? why don’t we get breakfast first?��� he spoke.

“I’d love to, but I really should go” she spoke, biting her lip as she stared at him. She didn’t really want to leave but she knew she had to face Bucky sooner or later and she would rather sooner as he would be ten times worse if she left it later.

Steve sighed dramatically.

“Okay, I guess if you have to” he pouted, making Y/n laugh loudly and trace her thumb over his lips, leaning down once more to kiss him.

Steve watched her move from the bed with a small frown, he couldn’t help but admire her, watching as she picked up her clothes and dressed.

“When will I next see you?” he asked.

“Call me” she spoke, walking towards the door and giving him a quick wink. He smirked back at her, shaking his head gently.

“No goodbye kiss?” he called out, no longer able to see her.

“You better call me soon then Rogers” she called back, before he heard the closing of his apartment door.

Steve lay in bed smiling to himself in a trance. He was shocked at what he had done but he didn’t regret it one bit, he really liked her and he didn’t think he would ever feel like this again and she had come along and proved him wrong.

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

“Where the fuck have you been?” Bucky asked, siting up from the couch as soon as she walked through the door. She wasn’t expecting him to be waiting up and around for her.

“This Is getting seriously old now Buck” she spoke tiredly. She didn’t want to fight with him, she had a perfect night and was not in the mood to argue anymore.

“Y/n I've been worried about you! You didn’t even text me to tell me where you were!”

“You were worried about me?” she asked confused, halting in her steps towards her room, Bucky was actually truly concerned?

“Yes I was worried about you. Why wouldn’t I be? I always worry about you” he spoke, the anger had left his eyes as he looked at her, he needed her to know that. Wanted her to know how much she really mean’t to him.

“I’m back now Bucky” she spoke quietly.

“You were with him weren’t you?” he said quietly, sitting back down on the couch and hanging his head in what looked like shame.

Y/n moved over towards him, sitting next to him and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I was.” she spoke “With Steve”

“You slept with him didn't you?” he asked, needing to know if his worst fear had come true. The amount of times he had convinced himself that she wouldn’t do that, that Steve would never do that.

He could feel her nod against his shoulder, his blood running cold. But he knew better than to get angry again, knowing he would lose her for good and push her further away.

“I was scared of that” He spoke. Y/n removed her head from his shoulder, turning to look at him with a small frown.

Ever since she had known him, Bucky had never truly admitted out loud what he feared. She had never heard him say he was scared before and she had know him a long, long time.

“Why were you scared of that Buck?” she asked, one arm finding its way under his so she could hug him from the side. He pulled her in close, kissing the side of her head softly.

“I can’t lose you. You’re the only person whose ever mean’t anything to me.” he admitted. He was being serious and was hoping Y/n would believe him even though he had never given her a reason to.

“Bucky” she spoke quietly “you will never lose me, It’s you and me okay? even if you did something horrible to me I would never leave you”

“You wouldn’t?” he asked surprised “But what if I deserve it?”

“Bucky, you’re my best friend okay, I will always put you before anyone else, because I know you would do the same for me. Yes, you can be an infuriating ass but at the end of the day you’re my Bucky.” she spoke.

He smiled at her softly, leaning towards her and gently capturing her lips between his.

She knew it was so wrong to do this after admitting to liking Steve, but this was who she was, it was what she did.

 AN: Thank you for reading my loves!! I can’t tag bc my post is too long but I'll reblog and add tags that way if it works?

Also I have a new Bucky series coming out soon called ‘just a little bit of your heart’ message me if you wanna be tagged bc tags are still open atm xxx

[gryffindorcls]

Please Tell Me I’m Awake Right Now

(Part 7)

Marinette scrolled through her phone as she patiently waited for Adrien to return.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun doing something so simple.  Granted, bring on a date with Adrien may have something to do with it.  

Ever since they’d discovered each other's identities, hanging out with him had become her favorite thing.  It didn’t matter what they were doing. Just being in the same room as Adrien made her happy. He made her so blissfully happy, and she wanted nothing more than to bring him happiness, as well.  As a result, she racked her brain for perfect second date ideas. He deserved nothing less.

She thought about the things her boyfriend liked to do.  Marinette then remembered all the times Chat had asked Ladybug to go to the movies with him.  The last movie outing they had didn’t exactly work out...especially when Adrien’s akumatized bodyguard punched a hole through the cinema’s roof.  Perhaps they could finally have the movie date he’d always wanted.

Marinette opened the movie app on her phone and began looking at the reviews and ratings of everything that was currently being shown in theatres.  She became so engrossed in her research that she barely registered the shadowy presence pulling out the chair across from her and quietly taking a seat.

“Hey,” she said not looking up from her phone, “so I was thinking that next time we could go to the movies.  Maybe we’ll be able to relax and have fun!” She finished her statement with a laugh.

“Oh, I would love to go to the movies with you,” an unfamiliar voice answered.

Marinette froze.

That was not Adrien’s voice.

Marinette looked up.

That was not Adrien.

Looking back at her was a foreign pair of dark brown eyes, a shock of black hair, and a devious smile.  A blast of nervousness momentarily settled in her gut before turning into seething anger.

“Excuse me,” she said with a saccharine voice dripping with annoyance, “but that seat is taken.”

“I’m sorry, but when I saw you sitting by yourself all I could think was how someone as beautiful as you should be spending time with someone who can fully appreciate you,” the boy responded with a smirk.

Marinette frowned. “As I said, this seat is taken.  Besides, I already have someone who appreciates me. He is outside on the phone, and he’s coming right back.”

“Sorry, Princess,” he chuckled, “but there is no one outside on the phone.  It looks like whoever you were here with left you all alone.”

Her anger grew.  She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth in an attempt to restrain herself from punching the intruder.  Only Chat was allowed to call her Princess, and this person was NOT her Chaton.

“Go away,” she seethed.

The boy laughed, reached his hand across the table, and grabbed her wrist.  “Come on. Let’s have a little bit of fun.”

Before Marinette was able to slam the boy’s hand into the table, a familiar voice growled behind her, “I believe the lady asked you to go away.”

Adrien removed other boy’s hand from Marinette’s wrist. He tenderly brought it close to him, bringing Marinette to her feet in the process.

He held her close and whispered in her ear, “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” she spoke quietly, “but I wouldn’t have been able to say the same for him if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

Adrien’s laugh came out as a relieved sigh.  “Careful, Princess. Your Ladybug is showing.”

She smiled at his nickname for her.  Hearing it come from the right source made her heart skip a beat.

“Ugh,” the boy grumbled, “really?  This is who you’re choosing?  What could he possibly have that I don’t?”

“Common sense.  Manners. Human decency.  I don’t know…pick one because I’m sure as heck not picking you!” Marinette exclaimed with fire in her eyes.

Adrien wrapped a protective arm around her, and she leaned into his muscular form.  He felt warm and safe. She wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in his arms and stay there forever.  

“Come on, Marinette.  This piece of trash isn’t worth our time.  Let’s go,” Adrien declared loudly while guiding his date towards the cafe doors.

If either teen had cared to look back as they walked through the exit, they would have seen the boy angrily reaching for one of the forks on the table.

***

Once the pair was safely inside the car, Adrien scanned her body from head to toe.  He lightly ran his hands over the wrist that had been in the other boy’s grasp.

Marinette smiled.  “What are you doing, silly kitty?”

“I’m making sure he didn’t hurt you.  Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked worriedly.

“Yes, Adrien.  I’m fine. It’s okay.  Calm down,” she reassured.

“No,” he stated, “it’s not okay when guys think they can just do what they want with girls, but I’m glad you’re safe.  I shouldn’t have left you for so long. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, minou.  It’s not your fault.  Remember, I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but you shouldn't have to.  We’re partners. The idea of something happening to you makes me feel sick.”

Then it struck her like a sixteen wheeler with brake failure barreling down the highway.  She had become so accustomed to standing up for herself when she was Marinette that she didn’t always let others help her when she needed it...especially when she was Ladybug.  Sure, she let Adrien help her as Chat on more than one occasion, but not as much as she could. She always believed that she had to be the one to come up with the plan to save the city.

All day she had been telling him to stop putting himself in harm’s way; however, she, too, put herself in dangerous situations sometimes.  Of course, there were times when danger came to her (like today in the cafe), but she had to admit that it was easier when she had help.

Had she relied on Chat’s help in the past?  Yes, but not enough. She was too busy calling him out on his recklessness.  He loved her, and he trusted her. He believed she would always bring him back.  Perhaps it was time for her to show him the same level of trust in return.

Marinette groaned and put her head in her hands.

“Wait,” Adrien looked panicked, “what’s wrong?  You told me you weren’t hurt.”

“No, kitty,” Marinette’s hands left her face and she looked up into his eyes, “I’m okay, but I’m thinking that I may have been a little unfair to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, as scary as it is for me to see you jump in front of danger, I realized that it probably scares you just as much when you see me in trouble.”

Adrien sighed, “Yes, it does.”

“And sometimes I don’t tell you what I’m going to do before I do it.  I know that usually we can figure out what the other person is going to do, but not always,” Marinette said with a saddened expression.

“I think I lost ten years off my life that one time you jumped into that dinosaur’s mouth.”

“Yes, I realize that now.  I’m so used to doing things on my own that sometimes I forget to ask for help or to tell you exactly what my plan is.  I know you trust me with your life.”

“I do...one hundred percent.”

“I’ve always trusted you to be there for me, but I think I need to start trusting more in the decisions you make during battle.  We aren’t always going to be able to tell each other what the other person is doing when we’re fighting an Akuma, but I know that there are times when hard decisions need to be made in the heat of the moment.”

“Thank you, my lady.  You have no idea how much it means to me to hear you say that.”

“BUT...that still doesn’t mean that you can throw yourself in harm’s way...AND that doesn’t mean that I will ever stop worrying about you.”

“I hear you loud and clear,” he took both her hands in his, “and just know that I won’t stop worrying about you either.”

He pulled her close and nuzzled his cheek on her hair.  She melted into his touch. Sure Chat had always been there for Ladybug, but now she had Adrien by her side.  Knowing that her kitty would fight beside her in and out of the mask filled her with unbridled joy. Adrien was the sunshine that lit up her world on the darkest days.

She knew that letting go and trusting him more would be an ongoing journey, but this was the perfect start.  Soon, Hawkmoth and his Akumas wouldn’t stand a chance against them.

Wait.

“Uh, oh,” Marinette mumbled.

Adrien pulled away from her.  “What?”

“How much do you want to bet that slimeball from the cafe is going to get Akumatized?” she asked with a grimace.

Adrien laughed.  “Whatever. Even if he does, we could take him.  Besides, I would not mind getting the chance to smack him in the face with my baton.”

Marinette snorted, “Down, kitty.”

“My lady, let’s not get caught up in what could happen.  I would like to get back to this date.”

“There’s more than just the cafe?”

“Well, I was thinking that we could go find Andre’s ice cream cart.”

“You sure you want to go on an ice cream adventure with me?” she teased.

Adrien pulled her back into his embrace.  “Marinette, I want you and me to experience the world together.  Today is only the beginning of our journey. So, it only makes sense that you and I should go run around Paris trying to find an ice cream cart.”

***

After reviewing Andre’s clues, the pair deduced that the ice cream cart was somewhere near the Trocadero.  Adrien’s car parked, and both teens bounded excitedly out of the vehicle.

They ran up a set of steps to get a better vantage point and spotted the cart in the distance.  Adrien and Marinette laughed and ran all the way to Andre’s.

Upon arriving, Adrien scooped her up into a hug that lifted her off the ground.  He twirled her around, set her down, and planted a passionate kiss on her lips.

He pulled away and whispered, “You’re my everything.”

Marinette squealed.  “Seriously, you have to stop saying cute stuff like that in public!”

Adrien grinned, “And my answer will always be no.”

She blushed as he moved his hand to her face.  He gently caressed her cheek with his thumb.

“Well, well, well,” a happy, booming voice exclaimed behind them, “it looks like young Marinette and Adrien have finally found each other!”

“Yes, we have,” Adrien beamed.

“Get over here you two!” Andre beckoned them with his hand, “Ahhh, it warms my heart to see young love.”

Marinette slipped her arm into Adrien’s, and they walked up to the cart.  It was here that she realized that she fit perfectly into his hold.

“We are made for each other,” she thought with a smile.

“Alright you two,” Andre said thoughtfully, “Your eyes are the bearers of your souls, and yours are intertwined.  I see the way you look at each other, and I can tell that your’s is a rare form of love--it is everlasting. So, in honor of the beautiful love that I have seen today, I give you mint for his eyes and blueberry for hers.”

Marinette and Adrien thanked Andre and took the ice cream together.  They walked to a bench and sat so their shoulders were touching.

“Hey, we should take a selfie and put it on my Instagram page,” Adrien remarked.

“Another one?” Marinette questioned.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought…” he cut himself off before completing his statement.

“No, no!” Marinette waved her hands, “It’s not that I don’t, it’s just that I didn’t think you liked social media all that much. You once told me that you didn’t like all of the attention.”

“Well,” he mumbled, “the attention isn’t all on me anymore. If I can’t keep you all to myself, I might as well show you off to the world.  You’re so beautiful and incredible, and I want everyone to know it.”

Marinette could feel hot tears prickling the corners of her eyes.  Adrien must have heard her sniffle because she found his arms wrapped around her within seconds of her reaction.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” he said reassuringly, “Please don’t cry.  We don’t have to take the picture. I thought it might be fun, but we can forget about it.”

“No, it’s just that…that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.  You’re going to make me cry,” she said playfully swatting at his arm.

He squeezed her tighter.  “I love you.”

She smiled. “I love you, too...so, so much.  Let’s take this picture!”

Adrien took out his phone.  The couple pressed their faces together and held up the ice cream.  He took the picture and opened his Instagram app.

“Wow,” he said quietly.

“What is it?” Marinette questioned.

“I don’t have notifications turned on for Instagram because if I did my phone would never stop buzzing, but our first picture has gotten a lot of feedback.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it already has a few thousand likes and there’s a ton of comments.”

“Like what?”

“I’ll read a few of them to you.”

Adrien scrolled through his phone while they ate their ice cream.

“Here’s a cute one,” he remarked, “It says, ‘You two look perfect together #goals’.”

“Well, they’re not wrong.  We do look pretty cute together,” Marinette hummed while resting her chin on his shoulder.

“This one says, ‘I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen Adrien in a picture’.”

“Awww…”

“It’s true though.  Being with you brings makes the darkness in my life disappear.  This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long time. You complete me.”

Marinette’s heart soared.  He was happy.

She kissed his cheek.  “Oh, Adrien. Being with you is all I’ve wanted for so long.  It’s so wonderful, and I still can’t believe it’s not all a dream.  You are my other half. Andre was right...this love is forever. I can’t imagine loving anyone else but you.”

He sighed and kissed the top of her head before continuing to scroll through the comments.

He grinned.  “Most of these are pretty positive.  People seem to like it. Oh, wow.  Here’s a really long thread.”

“What does the top comment say?” she asked.

“It says, ‘I just checked out the girl’s Instagram profile, and it looks like she designs her own clothes.  Wow, talk about a power couple!’.  Marinette, there’s like 500 replies on this comment.”

“Hold on. Let me look at this on my phone.”

Marinette opened the app on her device and immediately felt overwhelmed.  She had hundreds of notifications.

She was in disbelief.  “I have about 300 more followers than I did this morning.  How did that happen?”

Adrien cringed.  “Sorry, you’re associated with me now.  People are going to know who you are.”

“It’s fine.  I’m used to it as Ladybug, but it’s weird for regular me to have this kind of attention.  It’s kind of cool. People are commenting on the designs that I’ve posted on my page, and they seem to like them.”

“Why wouldn’t they like them?  You’re amazing, and as I said earlier, your designs are super creative.”

“Thank you, Adrien.”

“It’s true,” he stated plainly, “Anyway, let’s get this posted.”

The caption on the selfie read “The ice cream is not the sweetest thing in this picture.  #shesthebest”.  Once again, he tagged Marinette before posting.

They put away their phones and peacefully finished their ice cream while enjoying the beauty of the Trocadero gardens.  A soft summer breeze gently blew the foliage around them, and the leaves on the trees seemed to dance to the tune of their love.  It was the perfect moment...until a loud crash and several screams sounded in the distance.

“Ugh,” Marinette groaned, “See!  I told you this would happen?”

“And we will take care of it together,” Adrien said hugging her close, “Come on, my lady.  Duty calls!”

<—Previous    Next—>

AO3

Fanfiction.net

[alphawave-writes]

Evil actions and good intentions chapter 11: ‘Evil actions and good intentions’

Synopsis: Sigma is getting ready to go on a top secret mission with Overwatch. But first, he must confront his fears

Read it here or find it on AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter. If you want to support me, you can ask for a commission or you can buy me a ko-fi. 

I’ll be doing Sigroldweek 2019, so expect a lot more Sigrold to come next week when it starts XD I am so excited I had to get this chapter out of my system.

-

Sigma is awoken in the early hours of the morning by a dip in the bed. He doesn’t open his eyes just yet, instead raising his arm and reaching over to the other side of the mattress, relieved to feel soft flesh freckled with age spots against his palm. His hand curls over the body, pulling them closer.

There’s a quiet chuckle, no louder than a whisper. “Siebren, come on.”

“Stay,” he mumbles into the pillow.

“Siebren, I have to get up. I promised to join Reinhardt and Genji in their morning training.”

“Please,” Sigma whispers.

Harold lets out a quiet sigh of defeat before nestling closer to Sigma. He presses a sleepy kiss to his shoulder, then his chin, and then his nose. His hot breath tickles Sigma’s skin. “I’m blaming you if Reinhardt asks me why I’m late.”

“Good,” Sigma smiles as he pulls Harold close and buries his nose into Harold’s greying hairline. Harold smells like sage and soil and the Earth, ironic for a man who was at his most comfortable on the moon. Sigma’s sure he’ll get teased for keeping Harold here when he’s expected. He’s already gotten a few stares when he asked to share a room with Harold. He’ll get a few more today.

Harold yawns lightly as he wraps his arms around Sigma. True to his promise, Harold has worked tirelessly to help Overwatch in their mission to stop Lucheng Interstellar from going back to Horizon lunar base. It is one thing to help come up with strategies, Sigma thinks, but Harold is training his body with Reinhardt in the mornings and working on his aim in the evening with Sojourn. In the afternoons, if he’s not studying his nanobots with Mei, he’s making up armour pieces with Torbjörn and Brigitte and adding a tesla cannon prototype to his jet injector with Winston. To anyone else, Harold is preparing to fight, but Sigma knows better. Harold is ready to risk his life for his vision, regardless of the consequences. Sigma admires it as much as it frightens him.

He wants to keep a low cover. He wants time to rest and relax and just forget about the world. He smiles along, getting along with this new Overwatch, but in the inside he knows he’s not whole. How can he be? He summoned the black hole of his nightmares into creation once more. He obeyed the call of the universe, let it sink its dark tendrils into his soul, gave it permission to rip him apart. You don’t just forget that. You don’t just pretend everything is alright after that. But that’s exactly what he’s doing by going along with Harold's whims. He has to pretend he's alright, if not for Harold or himself then for this cause that Harold so eagerly believes in. Overwatch needs Siebren, not Sigma.

But how long can he pretend to be something he's not? 

When Sigma opens his eyes, Harold’s staring at him. His lips are pulled into a tight frown and his brows are furrowed. He places a soft hand on Sigma’s cheek.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he gruffly replies.

“Nightmares again?”

Sigma doesn’t speak. He lets Harold smooth his fingers over his face, a familiar and comforting gesture. They’re not nightmares, but he’d rather have Harold think they are. Harold doesn’t need to know how fragile he really is.

“What kind of nightmares are they?

“Nothing you should concern yourself with. Stupid things. Inconsequential things.”

Harold sighs quietly in disconcert but accepts the silence as an answer. Sigma lets his fingers trace over Harold’s stubble. It's rough,

“You’re thinking again. What are you thinking about?”

“Just, you know…how happy I am, as odd as that is. Despite everything.”

Sigma lets out a soft smile. “I’m not surprised. You’ve been reunited with your son. You’ve found a new home.”

“It’s not just him. It’s you too.” Harold presses another tender kiss to the left corner of Sigma’s lips. “I know you didn’t really have much of a say what with the whole kidnapping thing but…I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Sigma can’t help but frown as he remembers the black hole forming in his hands. The universe’s whispers sang in his ears, and he remembers how magnificent it sounded. In his fractured state of mind, it was so easy to fall for their charms. All they did was dangle Harold in front of his face and he ran, like a horse to a carrot, unleashing that terrible power bottled inside his mortal body. How easy will it be for his mind to fracture again? How easy will it be for him to take Harold’s life in the chaos, just like that?

His arm curls around Harold’s form as he pulls him in tight, impossibly tight. Harold wants to say something, but Sigma presses his mouth against Harold’s open mouth and swallows his words and his moans. Harold is quick to surrender, holding Sigma’s face as he kisses back. Soon, they are lost to one another, time and space and responsibilities slipping away into nothing, if only for a precious moment.

If he kisses Harold long enough, if he touches his skin tenderly enough, perhaps he might forget about the weight of gravity on his shoulders.

He’s working in one of the labs this new Overwatch provides. A lot of his work was lost in Oasis but he makes do with what he remembers and what he knows. Though his mind is not whole, his memory is still sharp. Recalling his work is as easy as reciting the Dutch alphabet. He remembers. Perhaps he remembers too much, he thinks, as he stares at his idle hands, the dark strands of the universe threading through his fingers.

He sees the universe but he doesn’t hear it. Long ago, he thought he’d be relieved when the universe stops its incessant whispering. But now that it is gone, it’s the silence that scares him. Every little noise is so much louder. He hears the footsteps outside his lab and thinks he’s back in Oasis, chained up to the wall, waiting to be killed by Sanjay Korpal, waiting for those emotionless eyes to swallow his entire being in darkness. It’s almost like he's acutely aware he’s in a dream, and that sooner or later he will wake up back in the cheap lumpy mattress of the government facility, utterly alone.

He tries to work, and when that fails to quell that horrid gnawing in his chest, he summons the hyperspheres into his hands, watching them roll across his palm like Baoding balls. Harold had gifted him a pair once before, many years ago. It was the exact day that Sigma learned of Harold’s mixed heritage, of his Chinese roots as well as his American ones. As Sigma observes the spinning balls in his hand, it reminds him of binary star systems circling around one another, and then a swirling vortex, and then the black hole.

Fear freezes his heart as he flickers the hyperspheres out of existence, but it’s too late. He sees a phantom take Harold’s form, screaming in horror as its body is pulled apart by the black hole. He sees a phantom of himself, horrible and terrifying, observing Harold's phantom with the cold, clinical fascination of a researcher who has obtained a mildly interesting result. But whereas Harold’s phantom is a figment of his imagination, Sigma knows that his own phantom is a part of his soul. A beast that resides within his chest, ready to seize his fragile mind, begging for release.

Release me, it growls. Release me.

Is it his powers or just his fractured mind that feels the walls closing in on his body? Sigma digs his fingers into his skull, unable to force his eyes closed. The silence is stifling, unnerving, unnatural. When before there would be voices telling him he’s a monster, all he hears now is a singular voice—his voice—telling him the darkest truths. He will never be Siebren de Kuiper again. He will forever be Sigma. Forever Sigma. Sigma.

“Dr. de Kuiper?”

He whips his head to the doorway. Satya—or Symmetra, as she calls herself—is standing in a long, double-slitted dress. Her body language is stilted, uncomfortable. It's worrisome but not unexpected. Despite all the time she has spent in the Overwatch base developing her hard light constructs, she has not gotten comfortable with anyone.

“I have come in at a bad time,” she mutters.

“N-no, no, it’s fine,” Sigma quickly says. He gestures at a nearby seat. “Come in.”

Satya stares at him for a few seconds before taking two steps forward. She does not give indication she will go further than that. “Forgive my intrusion. There is a purpose to my presence, but I will not detain you if you are busy.”

Sigma glances at the blank document on the computer. It’s been blank since he came into this room today, and it will probably remain blank for the rest of the day. With a sigh, he forces himself to look away. “You’re not interrupting me. What is it?”

“This is a private discussion. About a private matter.”

Sigma frowns. “Surely you can pester Dr. Winston, not me. If it’s a personal issue, he can help you. He’s much better at this sort of thing than I am.”

“He is busy,” she utters. “Besides, I’d rather ask for your opinion on this delicate topic. If you are free, that is.”

Sigma lets out a quite breath. He turns off the computer and walks towards her. This is probably a blessing in disguise. Conversation will keep his mind occupied, especially if it is with Satya. But he knows from personal experience that conversation alone won’t be enough to quell the darkness. “Walk with me. We shall walk and talk, as they say.”

Satya nods as she falls in step with him and exits the lab.

Sigma wanders the hallways, searching for the exit within the labyrinth of halls. His lab is right in the centre of the main facility, which has its pros and cons. It’s relatively unused but clean, and it’s far away from many of the other workshops so it's rare that he is disturbed from his work, but it also means he can’t see the sky and feel the sunshine on his skin. He didn’t used to see the sun a lot when he was Siebren, and he didn’t see the sun a lot as Sigma, but for some reason he needs to see it today. He needs to feel the ocean breeze, hear the whip of the wind, remind himself that he’s on Earth. The world seems so surreal nowadays. Reminders like these, however absurd, have become increasingly necessary in his life.

Satya taps a rhythmic pattern into her bicep. She’s been silent for too long. She’s bursting to say something. “I do not belong here,” she admits.

Sigma nods politely. It's unwelcome to hear, but not entirely unexpected. “Why do you think that?”

“These people, this cause, it’s not what I am used to.”

“This new Overwatch seems to be rather idealistic in their beliefs,” Sigma grunts.

“Perhaps, but at its core it is far greater than that. It is truly benevolent. This new Overwatch truly wants to bring order and peace to the world, and I respect that because that is what I also believe in. But at the same time, the way it is going…it’s at odds with Vishkar.”

Sigma frowns as he observes Satya. The ways they have been indoctrinated differ, but he recognises the signs and symptoms. “How long have you been in Vishkar?”

“Since my childhood. They raised me up from the slums, gave me the opportunity to master hard light and make a difference. And there are good people there, who want to shape order in this chaotic world.” Satya's gaze lowers as she recalls the friends and family she has left behind.

Sigma understands all too well. “Even after all you’ve seen, it’s hard to separate the bad from the good," he says. "They’ve been so kind to you that it’s easier to forgive them for their betrayals.”

Satya is quiet for a long while. “What do I do?” She whispers.

“What you desire to do, of course,” Sigma replies. “The universe is limitless and timeless, and our existence is but a small blip in its lifetime. We must make the most of our limited lifespan in this world.”

“Is that why you are here? Joining this cause?”

Sigma pauses. He can’t help the frown that falls on his face.

Satya notices. “Does the rest of Overwatch know?”

“No,” Sigma replies.

“Does Dr. Winston?”

He grimaces. “No.”

Satya’s lips purse. “You should at least tell him.”

“There’s no need to. I’ve already decided to follow him wherever he may go. If he wants to play hero, then I’ll make sure he doesn’t get himself killed. He’s already been through a lot. He doesn’t need any more stress.”

“And you are OK with that?”

“Much better than I will be if I stayed with Talon,” Sigma says. “Many here want me to be the hero they think I am, but it is not to be. I’ve caused too much harm and too much death to be good. But Harold is a hero, in his legacy, beliefs, and actions. Overwatch has been reborn because of him. The world will be worse off if he did not inspire Winston as much as he did. But Harold has been alone for some time now, unable to spread his wings. It’s time I supported him and lighten the load.”

Satya’s brows furrow and Sigma thinks he's offended her, but then, in a quiet voice, she whispers to herself, "Spread your wings". She says no more after that, her expression returning to its original unreadable configuration.

Gibraltar’s sun is not as intense as Oasis’s, but it is still hot. Satya, as expected, is unaffected, but Sigma is not used to the hot weather. He vastly prefers it over the cold, but that’s more because the warm weather lets him get away with going barefoot. Near the hanger, Sigma spies Harold and Winston chatting together. They’re still awkward after all this time, but the distance between them is getting closer and closer. He sees Harold’s bashful smile, soft but warm, but like a star, it only seems that way from a distance. Up close, Sigma knows it’s bright and blinding and mesmerizing. He's seen it before, and he's always marveled at its splendour.

Sigma feels his lips pull up into a smile of his own, warmth creeping up his veins and spreading throughout his body. For a fleeting moment he thinks he has the courage to tell Harold the extent of his feelings but then Harold’s smile fades away as his conversation with Winston becomes more serious.

He only just realizes that Satya is watching him. He clears his throat loudly to hide his blush, but it only causes her to chuckle behind her hand.

“You two are certainly a pair.”

Sigma stares at the father and son figures in the distance. They have not yet realized he’s here. They’re too engrossed in their own conversation. “We’ll become more than a pair soon enough.”

“I thought you got along well enough with Winston,” Satya remarks.

“I do, but Harold is all but ready to adopt Winston as his child. Considering my own relationship with Dr. Winston, that makes my relationship with Winston rather complicated.”

“At least you have the chance to be a family. You should embrace it.”

Family. He hasn’t thought of it like that, has he? If Harold somehow is able to pull it off, will Sigma become Winston’s step-dad or his step-uncle?

No, that’s ridiculous. First of all, Harold will have to not be legally dead. Second of all, he’s pretty sure there are laws against adopting a 29-year-old gorilla, especially since said-gorilla is technically a legal citizen of Earth and is also technically the same age as Sigma and Harold in gorilla years. Third and finally, Sigma would have to be married to Harold in that hypothetical scenario, which was pretty much impossible for a multitude of reasons.

Still, it’s easy to imagine Harold taking his surname. Harold Winston is a nice enough name, but Harold de Kuiper has a special ring to it. It’s easy to imagine settling down with Harold and being a couple again—a proper one—and just settling down in a place of their own, somewhere far away from the world and the cockroaches they call people. It's easy to imagine Winston joining them, and perhaps even the cute little hamster Hammond, wherever he may be. But that opportunity has been gone for decades now. It will remain a figment of his imagination.

He watches Harold’s eyes finally catch his, sees those lips pull up into a brighter smile. Winston turns towards him too, giving a small salute in greetings. Sigma waves back, unsurprised to feel the heat drift up his body to his cheeks, taking away the tightness and pain in his head. It’s fleeting, but that’s more than he can ever want.

“I think we already are a family,” Sigma whispers, too soft for Satya to hear.

For a few days, no one sees Satya despite affirmation from Athena that she is indeed still on the base. Then, one day during a meeting, she dramatically opens the doors and takes her seat, looking none worse for wear. Many express their concern. Others express their relief. Satya ignores all of them, pointing at a tiny little detail on the hologram.

“You should strike there, where the defence systems are weakest. Only a fool will strike in this location.”

Every meeting after, she mostly spends her time correcting issues in Winston’s plans. He does not mind, and in fact seems grateful for the corrections, and the two strike up an odd friendship. Every now and then she shoots Sigma a rare grateful look. Despite her claims otherwise, in those rare moments, she looks like a majestic leader, a hero worthy of legends.

Things pick up quickly. Preparations are made quickly. Things are moved and made and placed and packed. More people come to the base, all with their own stories, all ready to join Winston's cause. Sigma meets Genji and his omnic mentor Zenyatta and Dr Ziegler and the cybernetic Sojourn and the mysterious but cheerful Echo. Of them all, he is most intrigued with Zenyatta. He’s heard of the Shambali, always was curious of their cause, but he never cared about them. But that was back when he was Siebren, when his mind was whole. He's a lot more open to the concept of the Iris now.

The members of Overwatch are supportive, kind, and well-meaning. He's not sure if they have noticed, or if perhaps Harold told them, but they are quick to pick up on when he's not in a good mood, quickly changing the subject or involving him in their activities. He appreciates their efforts but it does little to quell the darkness he feels in his soul. Every night he has nightmares of every evil thing he’s done, and every morning he wakes up in a cold sweat. He can’t live like this. If he wants to help Harold, he needs to let go of his baggage, be born anew, without the weight of the universe on his shoulders.

That is why he slips a message to Zenyatta’s room one day, asking if he’d be willing to help him. He is surprised when, moments later, Zenyatta himself comes to his lab. Sigma hadn’t signed the note. It must have been obvious to the omnic monk what he needs.

Zenyatta asks Sigma to follow him to the cliffside where a makeshift mat has already been set out. Zenyatta gestures Sigma to sit in. He does, copying the same pose Zenyatta is making, floating and all.

“I sense discord in your soul. Two halves, fighting for control, yin and yang. They are not as one.”

He doesn’t deny it. He’s known it all along. These halves have names: Siebren and Sigma. His two identities.

But Zenyatta shakes his head. “We all wear masks in our lives, some for the protection of ourselves, and some for the protection of others. That is not the source of your discord. No, I believe it is how you perceive these masks that troubles you the most.”

Sigma bows his head, unable to answer.

Zenyatta continues. “You are your own worst enemy. That may be true for all, but you in particular perceive your enemy to be greater than yourself. You fear the unknown.”

“It is not the unknown I fear. It is what I know that haunts me.”

“And what is it you know that you fear?”

Sigma bristles. He’s already said too much. Zenyatta is perceptively easy to talk to, perhaps easier than Harold, and the omnic knows it. Sigma suspects that this trait is something Zenyatta learned, rather than something innate within the Shambali.

Slowly, Zenyatta summons his own orbs, letting them chime around his body. The melody is soothing, almost at odds with the universe’s song, but the melodies don't clash discordantly. Rather, they mesh together, discord and harmony together as one, as if they are meant to be together. “You must confront the source of your fears, but that source, I believe, is not within you. It resides elsewhere, in another vessel," Zenyatta says.

Sigma knows he has to talk to Harold. He will need to, before he goes on this mission, before their lives are irrevocably changed for good once again. But he still has a bit of time. With Zenyatta’s help, they go through some meditation practice together. Sigma will visit Zenyatta every day and meditate with him, sometimes with Genji, sometimes alone.

Sigma decides that the Shambali way is not too dissimilar from his own. One could argue that the Iris and the universe are the same being. In another life he might join the Shambali and make amends for his wrongdoings, but for now he rolls his shoulders, centres his being, and focuses. With every session with Zenyatta, he regains a bit of strength, a bit of control, and a bit more confidence to tell Harold what’s really going on in his mind.

Two days before everyone is to depart for Lijiang, he is summoned to the training grounds. He doesn’t think there’s any changes to the plan, and he doesn’t think he’s built up such a quick rapport with the other Overwatch agents to warrant a summons, which is why he is surprised when they gift him a new set of armour to wear, handcrafted by Brigitte and Torbjörn themselves. It’s almost identical to his Talon armour but modified slightly, with roudner shapes and painted in a different colour set—whites and yellows and deep blues instead of the cold turquoise of his old uniform. Yellow is his favourite colour, but only one person in the world knows that. He gives a wry smile to Harold, who looks up at the ceiling. Sigma laughs quietly, floating the armour behind his back as he walks to the locker room. He changes into it quickly. It's a snug fit, but far more comfortable than his previous uniform. The lining is softer, and there's more support in the heavier areas. It's made for him, literally and metaphorically.

When he emerges from a stall, Harold is standing before him in his own uniform, also similar to his old one. It’s orange, mostly heavy-duty fabric with a few pieces of armour at his knees. White padding lines his shoulders, black stripes cutting across the orange, leading down to a few large tubes that stick out of his body, transporting golden liquid into a backpack comprised of clear cannisters. Where the Lunar Ops logo used to be on his left breast, the Overwatch logo now stands, small and proud, not unlike the smile Harold wears on his face.

“Tell me honestly, Siebren, do I look weird?”

Sigma smiles. “You look better than fine.” Like a hero, Sigma thinks but doesn’t say.

Harold chuckles. “You do too.”

Sigma catches a glance at his reflection and frowns. With the suit, he looks a lot more like his younger self, back when he was Siebren. Except Siebren does not have these ridges carved underneath his sunken eyes. Siebren does not gaze back with such fear and sorrow in his heart. Siebren is not this fragile.

This is a caricature of Siebren, he can’t help but think as he looks at his reflection. Within the mirror, he sees a bad cosplay, an imposter, a face double. Anything but himself.

“It doesn’t fit me.”

“That’s what I get for trying to measure your old armour,” Harold sighs. “I’ll ask Torb if he can make some adjustments.”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean...it doesn’t suit me.”

Harold frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Look at me,” he gestures at his clothes. “I look like a sci-fi wizard from some idiotic video game.”

Harold walks towards him and places his hand on Sigma’s jaw, checking him over. “You look like you.”

“But what is me? What am I?”

Harold’s brows crease as he takes a step back. “You’re Siebren.”

“But I’m not Siebren. I’ve told you time and time again that I am Sigma, but you refuse to acknowledge me as such.”

“Because you are Siebren,” Harold states matter-of-factly. He doesn’t even pause to think about it. “You are not Sigma.”

“Siebren de Kuiper is dead!”

“Sigma was never a real person in the first place, and you know it! ”

He stares as Harold’s eyes turn golden before flickering back to dark chocolate. A second later and Sigma feels the furniture rattle within the room. With a wave of his hand he quickly puts everything back in place but it’s far too late. He’s disappointed Harold. Despite the meditation, despite his efforts, however tiny of a slip, he’s lost control of his powers again. He can’t do that. Not if he wants to protect Harold.

“What is this really about?” He asks quietly.

Sigma thinks he has the confidence to tell Harold but it strikes his heart and his tongue, making them both swell. He forces himself to turn away. “Nothing,” he croaks.

“It’s not nothing,” Harold sighs. “I didn’t want to say it, but you’ve been acting kind of weird lately. I thought it was because you had trouble adjusting, or you didn’t want me to go on this mission. But it’s something else, isn’t it.”

Sigma gazes upon Harold, unflinching when he sees the golden aura surrounding Harold's body. It’s a figment of his imagination, not the nanobots that he knows Harold is very capable of using, but if he concentrates hard enough he might be able to feel its radiant warmth. Harold is the sun, and Sigma wants to be in his light in the desperate hope that it can outshine his shadows. But he knows that's not how light works.

He takes a step forward, and the darkness begins to spill out. The universe speaks to him again. Release me, it growls, but it doesn’t sound so threatening anymore. The darkness is a harness, and he has harnessed the harness. If he lets it all out now, perhaps then his body can finally be filled with those dazzling rays of light. Perhaps then, he will never have to hide anything from Harold any more, and he can be as close to whole as he possibly can. Perhaps then he can look at himself with the same ardent affection as Harold looks at him.

“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel like I’m gazing at a distant star," Sigma whispers. "It’s dazzling, but that light is from tens of thousands of years ago. Maybe that star doesn’t exist anymore. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.”

“Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami,” Harold whispers. “That’s my favourite book. But…are you saying what I think you’re saying?

“I’m afraid,” Sigma admits quietly.

“Afraid?”

“You’re a hero, Harold. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t been the one to inspire heroism. I’ve seen you with so many people but this is the first time you have looked in your element." He places a tender hand on Harold’s cheek, the strings of gravity tugging at his fingers. "Even now you are glowing.”

Harold’s eyes widen slightly, the first droplets beading at the edge of his eyes. Sigma wants to kiss them away but he must continue on. He has to, while he still can.

“I’m not a hero like you. Even before I became Sigma, I was only motivated by my own selfish desires for the world. But as Sigma, I became worse. I’m always at the brink of losing myself to the universe. I’m always a flick of the wrist away from destroying everything in my path. I could've fought those violent tendencies, but I didn't. You’ve seen me, I’m dangerous, and I can’t be dangerous if I want to help you.”

He’s shaking now, his fists clenched so tightly the muscles on his hands are straining. But gravity remains unchanging and Harold is still here. His eyes trail down to the centre of Sigma’s chest piece.

“Is that what it is? You’re afraid you’ll hurt me?” Harold asks softly.

Sigma pauses before shaking his head. “No. I'm afraid I might never be the hero you need me to be.” I’m afraid you won’t love me, Sigma says with his eyes.

Harold takes a few seconds to gaze at Sigma’s armour. His hands touch every piece he can get his hands on, working his way down from the shoulder plates to the harness, down to the stomach piece. “What’s the difference between a hero and a villain?”

“A hero is someone that does good. A villain is someone that does evil,” Sigma says.

But Harold shakes his head with a small smile. “It’s not that black and white. Heroes often work against the law, but does that make them evil? And what about all those stories about corrupt politicians doing something good for the populace just so they will turn a blind eye to their indiscretions? Look at us, look at this new Overwatch. We’re going to be breaking into a world renowned space corporation, hijacking a space shuttle, and hiding vital research from getting into the wrong hands. Does that sound like something a hero does?”

Sigma can’t help but smile. “I suppose not.”

“I’m sure by the end of it, the world will call us villains. But it’s all about what follows up from then, and what a person’s true intentions are, that defines who they are. Our actions may be evil, selfish, cruel, but ultimately our intentions are good. Does that make us right? Not necessarily. But then again, who is to say what is right and what is wrong in this crazy topsy-turvy world of ours?”

Sigma wraps a hand around Harold’s waist. “So, what does that make us then?”

“Depends on our intentions,” Harold smirks. "We can do evil things and still mean the best intentions. That doesn't make us villains."

“And if my intentions are very, very inappropriate for a child audience?” Sigma winks.

“Well, you’re going to have to keep it child-friendly for a bit longer,” he laughs. “The others want to see how we look.”

“Then give me a moment. One moment.”

Harold smiles softly, giving his silent permission. For a few seconds, Sigma pulls Harold into a crushing hug, pressing a kiss to Harold’s forehead. The contact is brief, and it’s hard to part, but soon they drift away from each other’s arms.

“Thank you, Harold. I needed that.” Sigma admits quietly.

“You’re welcome.” Harold’s lips suddenly purse. “Actually…on the topic of Sigma and Siebren, do you want me to call you Sigma from now on?" Before Sigma can respond, Harold quickly adds, "I-I know what I said earlier, but if it really makes you feel more comfortable, I can call you Sigma if you want.”

It’s touching, and considerate, and another reason why Sigma does not deserve Harold, but he shakes his head softly. “No need. Siebren sounds so much nicer from your lips.”

Harold grins back. “A lot of things sound nicer from my lips, tiger.”

“And you told me to keep our conversation family friendly,” he laughs. Sigma takes Harold’s hand in his. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

When they finally emerge, they’re met with a small pattering of applause. The other agents all remark on how ‘regal’ Sigma looks currently, and how Harold has once against rolled up his sleeves, but the conversation quickly drifts away to other topics like world events and the upcoming mission to Lijiang. Soon, everyone’s in their own little circles, interacting with each other. And Sigma is a part of it, blending in seamlessly. Amongst the soldiers, scientists, and oddities, he doesn't stand out. In fact, he fits in. Perhaps it's the first time he can recall fitting in so seamlessly, both as Siebren and as Sigma.

“Did you just call Dr. Winston ‘dad’, Winston?” Tracer teases.

“Did you just call me ‘dad’ for the first time?” Harold grins.

Winston is blushing furiously. “A slip of the tongue, I assure you.”

Sigma chuckles lightly to himself, shaking his head in amusement. “Now the monkey has come out of its sleeve,” he says. “I always knew you two would make a cute father-son duo.”

Harold smirks. "Why not turn it into a father-son-father trio?"

Winston's blush goes even redder. "P-please."

"Why, I did not know you were the shy kind, Winston," Sigma teases. "Don't want to hang out with your hip, groovy dads, son?"

"This is why I don't go out much," Winston mumbles to himself.

To everyone’s surprise but Sigma, Harold is able to convince everybody to do a group picture. It takes a few attempts, especially because Sigma has been designated camera man, but eventually a suitable picture is taken. In the final picture, as Sigma stares at his own face, he sees a different visage altogether. It’s still not the repugnant overconfidence of Siebren, but it’s not the fragile malaise of Sigma. Instead, it’s someone else, a different side of him, combining all the best traits of his two halves. In the photo, smiling into the camera with his ostentatious armour, he looks more like the hero he is meant to be, or perhaps the hero that he shall become.

In the end, two physical copies of the picture are made that day. One is for Winston, and the other is for Harold. When the time comes for everybody to get on the airship, they both have the same picture sticky taped behind their seats. Sigma has a different picture in his grasp. It's of him and Harold and Winston, smiling widely as they hug each other for the selfie. Sigma smiles softly as his gloved fingers trace the surface. Over time, he'll build up a collection of family photographs, and he will gaze upon them with fondness whenever he fears he shall lose his way. At that moment however, it only fills him with determination.

Soon, they shall be in Lijiang. Soon, they shall confront Talon, and Vishkar, and Lucheng Interstellar. Soon, he will make a difference. The universe is in his bones. The stars are in his soul. This will not be the end, but it will mark a change in his life. For once, Sigma embraces it.

[doctor-spencer-ried]

Just a Crush (IV)

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Hanahaki Disease AU

Summary: You end up making a great discovery that pushes the case forward. Or at least, you think it will.

Warning: blood, illness

Masterlist ~ Part 4 (Word count: 1671)

A/N: My knowledge of behavioral analysis is limited to this show and my Forensic class, so there may be holes and incorrect analysis.

~~~

Sleep will help. You’ll get some sleep and then wake up ready to work. No problem. That’s all you need. It’s just a cough after all.

It’s not. You were wrong, so wrong.

You hands shake as you wipe at your lips, your chin, your cheeks. It doesn’t help, just smears the crimson across your pale skin. With labored breath, you look down towards the hotel sink. Blood drips down the white porcelain. Your blood. It pools in the basin.

Among the blood lies something that makes fear tingle through your heart. A single, delicate white rose petal. Its pure color is stained with that goresome crimson.

It was never supposed to happen to you. You've heard of the cases. It’s not rare, but also not common. You barely know anything about it, but you know it’s bad. Fatal.

It’s called Hanahaki Disease.

You shakily step out of the bathroom and shut the door behind you. Your entire body aches, your mind struggling to wrap around what is happening. Your legs give out from under you once you reach the bed. With a groan, you drag yourself to the middle of the mattress and curl up, arms wrapping around your stomach.

Anxiety overcomes you as your thoughts run rampant. What if you get fired? They could force you to leave the BAU until you get the issue under control. How do you even do that? You remember there’s some kind of surgery to cure it, but the repercussions were lengthy. You hadn’t bothered to read them.

You rub your eyes harshly, trying to banish the thoughts. You would rather focus on the cause.

Hanahaki disease, an illness caused by unrequited love.

You can’t brush it aside as a tiny crush now it seems. You almost want to laugh at the bitter fate life has planned for you. You pushed it aside every time, always dismissed the emotions that swelled in your heart at the sight of him.

Now you have to face it. It’s useless denying it.

You’re in love with Doctor Spencer Reid.

And he doesn’t love you back.

---

It’s the next day when the team comes to visit you. You cleaned the bathroom, getting rid of the evidence of your sickness, and did some research on it late into the night. A poor choice really, considering it made the dark circles under your eyes more prominent. Your really getting sick of the concerned looks they earn you, though.

“Why didn’t you go to the hospital, (l/n)?” Hotch asks from the foot of your bed, looking ticked, but yet again, that’s how he always looks.

“Because I’m fine,” you insist for the billionth time, blatantly lying through your teeth, “It was just all the fumes and stuff.”

“You had a panic attack, (y/n).” Forget you Morgan.

“Forgive me if the scene was a bit graphic for my tired mind,” you bite out sarcastically.

“I’m taking you off the case until you’re better.”

“What? No!” You protest, shooting up in your bed, “I’m the one who started the profile and research on this case! I’m not dropping it because of a little cough!”

You know you shouldn’t question him, but even the heat of Hotch’s glare can’t make you back down. There’s no way on earth you're letting him take you off the case.

“(Y/n), just listen to him, you need to get better,” Emily tries to reason with you.

“No,” you’re stubbornness flares up, “We’re close to getting this guy, I can feel it!” Your turn to Hotch, “I swear I’m feeling fine! Whatever was bugging me is gone, it won’t get in the way of work again. Please Hotch, I’ll take a sick break when we finish or something.”

Your begging seems to work because Hotch lets out an exasperated sigh. A small grin of victory forms on your lips.

“Fine.” He budges. “But you need to take the rest of today off and recover. You can come back tomorrow.”

“Thank you!” You resist the urge to fist pump the air.

Hotch shakes his head with a fond smile, “Come on, let’s go and let her rest.”

As they’re about to leave you call out for Emily to wait a moment. Something has been nagging at you the past few minutes, like an itch of awareness that scratches at your lungs.

“Where’s Spencer?” You had noticed as soon as they entered that the young doctor was absent.

She raises an eyebrow at you, lips pursed before she replies, “He’s talking to the first victims’ parents. He thought it might be possible that the unsub has a connection to his first victims.”

You nod your head. Of course Spencer would think of that. The first victims may have been old friends of his and they could have been his stressor.

“He and J.J. went there an hour or so before we came here.”

He’s with JJ? Something bitter rises in your throat as you lean back against the headboard. Of course he would be. He’s always around her. Of course he chose to go do that instead of visit you.

“Thanks Em, see you tomorrow.” Your words come off distant, but she seems to get that you want to be alone now.

After wishing you a good day, she leaves. The room falls into silence.

You sigh and close your eyes. The other day you thought you had a moment. You felt so close to him and you thought he may have, for just a smidge of a moment, felt the same. But you guess not. He'll never see you like that. He’ll only ever see you as a little girl, a little sister, who cannot take care of herself and needs constant protection.

It takes a moment to realize that a tear has made its way down your cheek. You wipe at it hastily.

Blinking away the remaining moisture in your eyes, you make up your mind that you need to get out of this small room. You need fresh air to clear the fog from your lungs. Forget resting. You need to breathe and this room is suffocating.

After grabbing your bag, you quickly make your way down the stairs and out of the hotel. You barely register where you are going, too focused on the crisp evening wind that hits you. It helps erase the thoughts that plagued you moments before. Your feet lead you down the sidewalk aimlessly, which doesn’t concern you in the least. Sometimes it’s nice to just walk without a destination in mind.

---

You take a moment to stare at the building in front of you. Why would you come here of all places? What part of your subconscious thought it would be funny to lead you here?

The greenery from the third set of murders stands in front of you, shimmering glass and all. It sits almost peacefully among the trees and brush. You know there is nothing peaceful about it though. Days ago it was filled with screams and cries of agony and fear.

With a deep breath, you take the remaining steps to the smashed door. You might as well take another look since your here. Hotch is going to kill you, but you really can’t seem to care at this point.

You open the door and slip inside.

The light is softer here, filtered through the green panes of glass that make up the cylindrical building. You bask in the warmth of the room for a moment before you begin walking between the isles. Each is filled with flowers, exploding from the pots and filling the room with color.

You used to love flowers. Their grace and beauty always enamored you as a child. You remember how you used to prance around with a flower crown on your head and a giant smile plastered on your face. It seems cruel that that part of you could be stripped away by this sickness.

Your steps slow when you reach the back room. It’s only a small moment of hesitation though. You step in, holding you breath as your eyes flicker to the blood stained floor. Flashes of the lastest scene flicker through your head. You force them away. You need to keep a clear mind if you’re going to look for something new. Last time you were razor focused on the chairs, the door, the drag marks. You didn’t bother to look around the rest of the room and perhaps the police made the same mistake. There has to be something else here.

The room seems simple, organized. The unsub probably didn’t touch anything if he didn’t find it necessary. In fact, he seems to have kept the chairs as far away from the wall of young flowers as he could. Strange.

You run a finger along a wilting petal of one of the flowers. The other plants all seem healthy, as if they've been watered, likely by the granddaughter, but these are dying. She probably can’t stand coming back here.

You shake your head. Not pertinent to the case.

Your eyes lazily trace over all the shelves to look for something, anything you could have missed before. It seems hopeless. Everything is absolutely normal. That is, until your eyes trail along the bottom shelf and catch a glimpse of something...different.

You immediately drop to your knees, hands shuffling to shove the small pots aside. It’s buried between them near the back of the shelf, but impossible to miss if you look.

A single, white tulip with wilting petals rests on the wooden shelf. Your fingers tremble as you pick it up and bring it closer to your face.

Blood.

Speckles and splotches of blood coat the pure petals of the flower. You lean back on your feet, excitement rushing through you.

Finally! You finally have a piece of evidence that can lead you to the unsub! It all makes sense now, why he killed them.

The grin on your face slowly fades the more you think about it.

He has hanahaki disease. Just like you.

He’s suffering. Just like you.

He’s devolving because he’s dying.

….Just like you.

Part 5

[whosxafraid]

Jayden and Luka for the Married Life

Meme: Married Life Meme Status: CLOSED

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Shame. He has it. But not about physical things. At least not a lot. And there’s a certain sort of walk mortals talk about; that you do the morning after. Walk of Shame, if he’s got that right. But that’s not the sort of walk he’s doing is it? Even if for a second he thinks about pulling on lounge pants and a shirt, but she’s already seen what he usually hides from the world….So in nothing more than what he was born in, he gets up. Stepping on clothes that had been shed last night because tunnel vision is one hell of a drug.

Gets the coffee started. Checks the fridge. Realizes they’ll have to go out for breakfast because he’s all out of eggs. Something brushed off for the time being, as he allows the door to fall back shut of it’s own volition. Back to the window to clear the bowl of creme and throw away the burned out candle. The slightest of twitches to his lips, because he doesn’t know why he bothers hoping things will change.

Off to the table, clicking on the tv. Switching it to the morning news, while he surfs through the supernatural want ads. Don’t knock it. Once in a while there’s a high paying job in these things. Not everyone could know him by word of mouth. Why? Because that takes part of the fun out of it. The coffee pings and not a moment later he picks up the tread of feet.

         “Mornin’, love. Coffees ready. Be moi’ndin’ bringin’ me o’mug?”

A noise that sounds like agreement so he leaves her be. At least until a handfull of his ass is getting groped.

       Ya know most people at least put on pants when they get up in the morning.

          “Aye. Mos’ people do.”

forgets to run the dish washer

Time is…rather relative when you don’t age. And getting back from a job can be at any hour. Today it happens to be at two in the afternoon. He’s hungry. He’s tired. And he just wishes he could eat and sleep at the same time. But even he can’t manage that one. So eat first it is. Or would be if not for the fact the dishwashers not full of clean dishes. A minimal sigh, that pulls shoulders down into the dirt.

Okay, plan b. The steak gets put directly on the eye of the stove. Turned over twice. Picked up with tongues, then juggled between his hands a few moments before a chunk is bitten out of it. And that would have been the end of it if she hadn’t come home early. Stopped dead center in the kitchen door way, one brow lifted, like him with a pratically raw steak hanging out of his mouth is the weirdest thing she’s seen all week. Which by the way? He knows would be a lie if she tried it.

        “In me de’fense? S’no’ d’weir’est d’ing ye be walkin’ in on me doin’….”

               Did you just quote Tony Stark?

        “Maybe?”

And there’s a tired grin around the pound of flesh between his teeth. At least until he pulls. Tearing off a bite and chewing.

              Just….try not to get any on the floor and wipe up the stove. My mother’s coming over.

        “Aye, love. As ye loi’ke.”

pumps gas for the car

                 It’s one little stop over. I don’t see why you’re…

          “Oi’ said no. oi’dunna go d’ere less oi’absolutely have ta.”

Out of the car, leaving the door open. Pushing and pulling a card out. Punching in his pin. Punching the gas selection. He really hated rentals. But it couldn’t be helped.

              Have you seriously scheduled every flight you ever taken to compensate for not even wanting to BE in England’s air space?

       “Aye. An’ oi’ dunna plan on stoppin’ now, jus’cause i’be shavin’ an hour off travel toi’me.”

            Luka this is ridiculous. It’s been what? Twelve hundred years? Let-it-go!

He shuts the driver’s door without response. He’s not going to continue this argument right now. And he lets his ears settle to the clicking of the gas pump. Let it go? Over his damned dead body, he will.

drives when they’re going somewhere

They’ve been driving for a half hour. Not a word between them. And this is not at all how he’d pictured driving to through the Italian country side but here they are. And there’s a small huff, as he lets the window down. Lights up. He’s not going to break the silence, because he’s not going to bend. Not on this. Even if he knows in his heart of hearts of hearts–it is a little stupid. But he’s bitter and he’s been bitter about that one thing for ages.

          Fine. There’s a flight out of tomorrow night. Take an extra two hours but the lay overs in Iceland. Happy?

         “Aye.”

She’s upset. But he’s not going to apologize for it. Not yet anyway.

rearranges the furniture

It starts with not leaving her be while she attempts to make herself tea. Hands where they shouldn’t be going at one in the afternoon. Hands that get soundly popped, thrice. So he backs off for all of fifteen seconds. Trying again from a different angle behind the couch. Hands on her shoulders that don’t waste a lot of time sinking further down as teeth nibble at her neck. And this time she’s got a hold of his nose. Pulling him up by it.

       What’s gotten into you? I told you not right now. I have a meeting to get to in an hour.

          “D’at’s plen’y o’toi’me….soi’des how ye expect me ta be keepin’ me hands ta meself when ye smell loi’ke ye do?”

And he’s pushing forward. Stealing a kiss. And there go his hands again. Wandering places he knows will get him what he wants.

        Luka O’Ria–

And there’s a dawning sort of sun that rises over her entire being. Because it clicks and oh no. Oh god damn. And there really isn’t a fairness in making him wait. But she’s going to put up her best defense anyway. Because the chase is all part of the process.

So before he can react, she’s faded out of his hold. Appeared again behind the arm chair, and he moving with that one speed he usually saves for when he’s working. And the first thing to fall is the coffee table. The next the couch that’s tipped over, and the frame of it cracking under the pressure. The shattering of a light bulb when the lamp bites the dust. And by the end of it, one would think a small war had occurred in the loft. 

Books knocked off shelves, furniture split open and/or split in half entirely. Scatch marks in the wood floors the same as in flesh. And in the middle of it all, the heated pair of them. Echos still drifting on the air, walls settling back into place from the pressure. And if there’s one thing for sure? She’s going to be late, just like he’s going to be furniture shopping after she leaves.

falls asleep with the TV on

Sometimes she can’t sleep. Sometimes he can’t. The only difference is how they handle it. And though each other doesn’t know it…the other always wakes up. The only difference is how they handle that too. But tonight’s a little different isn’t it? Because she wakes up a second time and he’s not come back to bed. The easy sound of water shifting as he cuts up and down the pool isn’t there. And well she can hardly be blamed can she?

Blanket wrapped snugly around her, treading lightly over wood panels. And to be honest she’d expected to find him bent over his table. Researching or working his way through plans for a job but what she finds…

He’s asleep. Head propped up by one hand, in his chair. The record player near by skipping off its track. And she’s twice as careful and quiet after that. Moving the book that’s been threatening to slide out of his lap for who knows how long, to the table. Hanging up the record needle and switching it off; along with the lamp. Pulling his head away from his hand, to lay it back against the chair, that she reclines. No sense in him waking up with a crik in his neck. Then comes the blanket. Cast over him as gently as possible, and there’s a small wince when a rather canine quaffle escapes him. But thankfully he doesn’t wake up. And Jay? She slips off back to bed. Not to say a word about it come morning.

gets to use the bathroom first

Sometimes but not always she wakes up first. Lays there in the stillness of the pre-dawn, wondering how she got here. Where she’d be if she wasn’t here. But then the quiet clink of metal and brown is drawn to the familiar looking up at her from across the room. And that’s her que isn’t it? 

She gets up. Quiet and slow so as not to wake him. Not that she thinks a canon going off could do that right now. He’s probably still got enough alchol in his system (to numb the hole in his shoulder), to kill three horses. Something that is only emphasized by the way his hand slides from her middle. Flopping dead weight on the bed that’s already cooling with her absence. 

Then it’s off to the bathroom. To shower and find clothes for the day. They’re not normal…they’ll never be that. But every once in a while it’s nice to pretend that they are. And she’ll let him sleep, while she lets Prue out before getting started on breakfast. Because canon fire might not rouse him, but the scent of sweet bread and bacon? That can raise the dead. Just don’t ask her how she knows that.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

            I’m back!—-Luka?

        “Up here, love.”

              Holy shit, what the fuck are yo—

        “Fan no’ runnin’. M’replacin’ d’rotor.”

              How the hell did you even–

         “Pulley ropes. Installed ‘em when oi’ renovated d’place.”

And there’s a few seconds where she’s just standing there with the bag of groceries. Open mouthed staring up into the ceiling where all she can really see are his swinging feet and the occasional flash of red hair. But then she’s shaking it off the almost surreal feeling of it all. Because how long ago had he renovated? The truth is? She doesn’t want to know. It’ll just make her feel like she’s five and remind her he’s older than the dirt her great five times removed grandmother was buried in. And she almost laughs when a question comes drifting down from the ceiling.

         “D’ink ye can be doin’ me o’favor and flippin’ d’eigh’d breaker switch?”

sets up holiday decorations

Incessant knocking. And even though it takes him only a few seconds to open it, the person–or rather familiar–on the other side huffs. Pushes her way inside a bit frantically. Tinsel stuck in her hair and garland hanging off her shoulders. A crooked set of reindeer horns half cocked on her head.

            Save me.

           “From wha’, lass? Ye look loi’ke ye go’o’ttacked boi’y d’at wan’o’be elf.”

          Jay. She’s decorating the shop and everything i–wait you’ve met Santa?!

           “In passin’….”

          Get out!

           “Ye know fer o’magical bein’ ye no’ really me’ many people have ye?”

        Well I mean yea I have but n—oh no. HIDE ME SHE’S COMING.

leaves the lights on

Sentimental. 

There was a time when she’d gone. Disappeared out of his life as quick as a snowflake melts on his tongue. And he’d been forced to move on. Forced to pick up and keep going, because what choice did he have? Though it gnawed at him for decades. More so than any of the others that had come before her. And company…was not sought after in the wake of her. At least not in the same form.

And once a year, every year he’d put a candle of another kind in the window by his reading chair. Tall and strong. The kind of wick meant to burn slow and last well into the wee hours of the morning. And when he rose the next day it was cleared the same as the flameless light by the bowl of creme in the kitchen. So the routine became habit, until he’d stopped thinking his way through the ritual.

Stopped remembering every candle marked another birthday spent without her. Because the day wasn’t important it was the year in between. And though he knew in the bottom of his soul she had to be gone, the kind of gone mortals do not return from, by the fiftieth time, he’d carried onward through the decades. 

The corpse of every single tower of wax still encases the single candle holder. Collecting dust now on a shelf. Its existence forgotten most days, because against odds he’d never imagined, she’d come back. So it is left to the ages of the past, where he has every intention of leaving it. Though he never finds the heart to throw it out. It had been his first birthday candle after all. 

uses the bathroom with the door open

There are things. That no matter how old you become. No matter how weird the things are that you’ve seen…there is something utterly alien about what he’s currently staring at. Coffee filtering steam up into the air in front of him. To the point that he hasn’t moved in the last thirty seconds. To the point what the feck doesn’t even begin to cover it so it never makes it out of his mouth. Though it suddenly makes sense why the toilet paper would be torn off at weird angles periodically.

The sound of flushing, and then the clitter clatter of claws on the tile turning to wood panels. An annoyed sort of quaffle as the familiar goes click clacking by him. And honestly? He needs another few seconds to process it all; before he turns on his heel and vacates the door way. Because nope. He’s not had near enough coffee to calculate all the ways that didn’t add up. Only to get as far as the kitchen before remembering he had to piss. And its back round again, giving Jay nothing more than a single pointer finger, when she asks if he wants his eggs scrambled or fried.

One thing at a time.

One.thing.at.a.time.

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

             How should I know?! It just stopped pumping.

Hands up because okay, okay. And back down he goes. Cramming himself into a space he really should not be able to fit at all. Bending in ways he knows his back is going to be punishing him for later. But right now all that matters is getting the pump to the latte machine working. Before Jayden goes nuclear…literally.

Something turned….something else tightened. Flashlight between his teeth starting to taste like lead. 

      “Proi’y i’mouw.”

            What?!

A sigh, worming his way back out. Yanking the flash light out of his mouth.

      “Troi’y i’now.”

And there’s a second where he will never admit he’s holding his breath, because if that doesn’t do it….whirling and something fires off and there it goes. The vibration of the pump that’s the tell tell sign hot water is on it’s way up to fill the tank reserve in the machine.

             YES!

It almost looks as though she’s going to hug it, instead opting to kiss its metal front; before she’s turning to him. Grabbing his face and planting one right on his lips. And ya know? The last thirty minutes of being squashed in the space too small for a toddler becomes completely worth it. Cob webs still stuck in his hair and beard regardless.

[hagarenmovie]

FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST SPECIAL INTERVIEW: ROMI PARK x RYOSUKE YAMADA - When the 2 Eds Meet!!

Fullmetal Alchemist, the movie that has been attracting attention and is soon to be the opening screening at the Tokyo International Film Festival. Ryosuke Yamada and Romi Park, together as two fans of the manga who have played the protagonist Ed in the live action and anime versions respectively, discuss their thoughts on the passionate love for FMA and its adaptation to live action.

"I cried like a baby at the scene with Ed, Al, and Winry" (Park)

It's almost time for the opening of the live action movie of Fullmetal Alchemist, an almost legendary dark fantasy manga that has sold a total of 70 million copies as a series worldwide and has had 2 anime adaptations. Ryosuke Yamada, who with an extraordinary resolve took on filming as the lead role [of the movie], is actually close friends with the long time voice of anime version Ed, Romi Park. We started by asking the two fans of the manga to tell us the story of how they met.

Y: The first time I met her was over lunch. Because Romi-chan is the Ed that I've always seen, I kept fidgeting unsure of what to do... Her personality also resembles Ed... how should I put it, she's cool. She told me her honest feelings about the live action adaptation and, after watching the movie very attentively, she also gave me her exact impressions on it so I was very happy. We talked about a lot of things like the hardships that only someone playing Ed would understand and It was a wonderful time.

P: The first impression I had of Yamada-kun was "what beautiful eyes this kid has!" Straight ahead, the inside of those transparent eyes were full to the brim with a fighting spirit intent on carrying Fullmetal Alchemist on his shoulders to the very best of his ability... As someone who played the same Ed, I also started overflowing with more happiness than I thought I would.

At the time [of the anime] Park, the senpai Ed, also felt the pressure of playing the protagonist of this worldwide popular work.

P: The work Fullmetal Alchemist itself is something quite like a black hole and this monster created by (Hiromu) Arakawa Sensei takes everything away from you. That's why, in order to carry [FMA], it's important to be able to take an enormous amount of heat. It's just like, "Your body, mind, soul, everything, hand it over!" because it's constantly doing a lot of tampering with your interior. Every week, every week I submitted myself to this monster with all my power, would be wrapped up in it, and would have everything taken away. It was a work that needed that much infinite power.

Y: I wanted to give importance into not thinking about it deeply. However, because the human being standing on-set is me, I did what I could on top of obviously taking on Ed's appearance, rewatching the anime, and also reading the manga over again many times. I had to stand on-set, not as the manga's Ed nor the anime's Ed, but as "Ryosuke Yamada's Ed" so as it's expected, some originality also became necessary there. When I take on filming, I stand on top of many things that I've studied so I don't really think about it too deeply and just face all of the things that happen on-set earnestly, giving importance to reacting.

"In my 24 years of life, this is the work that I've poured everything into." (Yamada)

It is also said that Yamada personally went all out and took on dangerous action scenes. Was there something you were carefully about during filming?

Y: Just "don't get injured" I guess. That's what I'd always think while doing [the action scenes]. That's why in the beginning, the scene where I jump off from a roof to leap onto Cornello (Kenjirou Ishimaru) was filmed on the day we finished shooting. They built a roof set and dug a hole about 5 meters deep in the ground that I was supposed to run and jump into. But that scene was something that I had never done until then so it was fun. What was the most important [scene] during shooting was the fight with (CG-created) Al. There, I had to punch an opponent that wasn't there and Al's height is 2 m 20 cm so... 

P: That was amazing!

Y: My punches don't reach him you know. It was also my first time having to punch with my left hand instead of my right. If it was with my right then I could have very good form, but I couldn't do that with my left so I earnestly started shadow boxing at home while researching it. That scene was very tough, but after watching the completed scene I was extremely satisfied.

P: In the movie, this was the scene that I also got caught up in the most, to the point of almost forgetting to breathe. Ed, Al, and Winry's unavoidable feelings seem to have a triple intersection, making me teary-eyed and my heart tremble. Despite that Yamada-kun, I can't believe Al wasn't there during shooting! It's really amazing! Without fail I always had Al there, Rie (Kugimiya)!

Among the appearing characters the precious partner, younger brother Al, and the brothers' childhood friend Winry have an especially strong emotional attachment.

Y: I also had a lot of time involving Winry and Tsubasa (Honda) also knew the character very well herself so in both her relation to me and in our exchanges she was thoroughly Winry. She'd always say things like, "Your face is pretty. Your face is pretty, but your height..." (laughs). I'd reply with "Shut it! Idiot..." though. We were able to start shooting with that kind of relationship so it was really easy to play [Ed with her]. Even the scenes that became emotional were like a well-played melody that didn't fall into dissonance. I think that if it hadn't been Tsubasa, maybe I wouldn't have been able to play Ed.

P: For a little while, when the movie started, Al didn't speak so it made me very impatient, but the moment he spoke, I cried out in complete joy,  "..., ah! Al! Al spoke!" (laughs). Seeing the exchanges between Yamada-kun's Ed, (Atomu) Mizuishi-kun's Al, and Honda-san's Winry made me feel once again that Fullmetal Alchemist really is a "story of bonds."

The movie completes Lust, making you feel like there will also be further development and that's the place where expectations for a sequel are swelling up.

Y: Of course, I'm very eager to do it. Because there's still many characters that haven't appeared, and it's not like we've told the whole story. Director (Fumihiko) Sori, the staff, and cast - everyone is also hoping for a continuation to become a reality.

P: (About appreciating the movie) This new Fullmetal Alchemist really got to me, to the point that inside of my mask there was a mix of tears and boogers. Starting with Yamada-kun, the passion that everybody having to do with this movie has is impressive. Even if it's just one more person, I would like you to watch it. And if you could support [this movie in order] to be able to meet even more Fullmetal Alchemist, I'd be happy. To put it another way, I want to see [a continuation]!

Y: Because Romi-chan said it, we have to make it now.

P: Wait! Is it just me [saying it]?

Y: Well then, it's because the '2 Eds' are saying it so...

P: Yeah, the 'Eds' [said it]!

Source: DVD & Bluray Data Magazine Nov. 2017 Issue [Oct. 20, 2017] Scan: twitter @yamachi_c