#she's gonna knock a tree over by bashing her head into it now

[zombirps]

"he looks FINE. Just FUCKIN FINE. OKAY??? Totally chill. Nothing up. I don't have tit to sa--SHIT. I DON'T HAVE SHIT TO SAY. FUCK OFF. LEAVE ME ALONE. I'M GOING"

judgement meme

let the idiot rabbit judge you uvu she doesn't bite unless you have gills

[kesujo]

You're the Light to my Shadow

As you’re heading out the café, you discover it isn’t empty.

“Hi, Seulgi.” Seulgi jumps, causing a smile to form on your face. “Finishing up some homework?”

“Hi Chanho! Yeah.”

“We’re closing and it’s getting dark, shall I walk you home?”

“Yes!” Before you can process how hastily her response is, Seulgi is already packing up her backpack. “Let me just—” She reaches for her coffee but ends up knocking it off the table instead. “Oh—” the cup clatters onto the ground, depositing its contents onto the bottom half of your pants. “—oh my god! I’m so, so, so sorry!”

You can’t help but smile at Seulgi, red-faced and profusely bowing. “Seulgi, it’s—”

“I ruined your—I-I’ll buy you new ones!”

“—fi-what? You don’t have to.”

“Are you sure?”

Your smile turns into laughter at her guilt-ridden expression. “Yes, I’m sure. Should I get you a new cup? Pumpkin cappuccino with less sugar and ice, right?”

“What? No! I couldn’t ask you to do that!”

“It’s alright, today’s batch is gonna get dumped anyway.”

Without waiting for an answer, you whisk away into the backroom, returning a minute later with a new cup of Seulgi’s drink and fresh pants.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“No problem. Ready?”

You can tell Seulgi wants to say something, but the space you give her to say it lasts five, ten minutes. Eventually, Seulgi pipes up, “Thanks for walking me home. And, for this,” Seulgi motions to her cup.

“Don’t mention it.” You can see words starting to form on her face, but the only sounds that fill your ears are rustling of the orange-yellow leaves of the trees planted along the sidewalk and the accompanying howling wind.

One question. Nothing more.

“Something on your mind?”

When Seulgi turns to you, you can’t tell if her pink cheeks are from the cold or from her flustered state. “Um! … yeah … so, Chanho…”

The bashful way she diverts her gaze, the way her naturally-pouty lips part to allow her tongue to briefly loll out of her mouth, it takes everything in your power to resist the urge to call her ‘cute’.

“Did I make that cappuccino poorly?”

“What? No! Of course not!”

You smile at that. From the offended expression on Seulgi’s face, you may as well have called her kittens ugly. “So, Seulgi…”

At this point, her cheeks are even pinker than the hot-pink cropped T-Shirt she’s wearing. “D-Don’t tease me!”

“Sorry—”

What are you doing? After that question, nothing more. Right?

“But, u-um!” You turn back towards her. “Are—Are you and Sunmi … dating?”

Sunmi, your manager, who claimed she could handle closing by herself when you know she dreads closing shifts the most. “No.” Seeing the relief on Seulgi’s face fills your chest with dread.

This isn’t happening. Not with Seulgi.

“So, then, um … are you single?”

You almost can’t hear those last few words over the wind that threatens to whisk away her denim cropped jacket. Honestly, you wish you hadn’t.

You were being so careful, though: teetering on friendly but never flirtatious, treating her with respect but only befitting a regular customer. Where did you go wrong? And now, Seulgi: the one girl you can’t take your mind off, the one girl that threatens to upend your pact against the fairer sex you’ve upheld for the past year, the one girl you know you should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t escape from, with her magnetic, bright, bubbly personality and that luminescent smile that turned her eyes into upside-down crescents and your heart to mush.

“Yes.”

“Oh!”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air after that. In the corner of your eyes, seeing her shivering causes the urge to give her your jacket to swell—but, now, more than ever, you need to resist.

“Th-Then, then, um, do-do you want to go, um, are you free—”

“Seulgi, I’m sorry.” Seeing her face turn from shock to on-the-verge-of-tears tugs at your heartstrings. But, you have to say this. “I’m … I’m really sorry. Someone like you shouldn’t involve yourself with someone like me.”

“Wha-What?”

You can hear the tears in her voice and steel your heart. “Sunmi. I’m not dating her now, but I used to. Back in high school. Do you want to know why we broke up?” I can do this. “She caught me flirting with her friends. Plural.” This is for the better. “You might’ve thought I would’ve stopped after getting caught the first time, maybe even the second time, but I didn’t. I just kept doing it.” The thought of never seeing her again fills you with dread, but not as much as the thought that she may end up like any of your exes. “What’s worse, Sunmi forgave me. She just, she kept forgiving me and forgiving me, and every time she would, what did I do with her trust, her love?” You can feel Seulgi’s eyes on you, but you refuse to meet them. “I quashed it.” Disdain, disgust, horror—what kind of expression must she be making at you? “Not just Sunmi, either. All those women whose hearts I toyed with, not stopping even after getting hospitalized a few times by the brothers and fathers of those exes, all to satiate my own ego. That’s the kind of person I am, Seulgi. Whatever you see on the surface is just masking this ugliness underneath. I’m just a disgraceful, lonely, insecure excuse of a man who doesn’t deserve—Seulgi?”

Hearing her sniffling is what causes you to inadvertently turn your head towards her and finally get an answer to the rhetorical question you posed to yourself earlier: her eyes shimmering and the area around them red, her pouting lips pulled into a deep frown, tears freely running down her cheeks, over the fingers that are failing to contain the flood pouring out her eyes … she’s looking at you with sympathy.

“I-I’m, I’m, I’m so sorry…” You don’t respond. You’re unable to. What about that story could have possibly aroused such a reaction from her? “…it’s—it’s just, I can s-see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your voi-voice, a-and it’s just, it’s so sad to see that be-because you’ve clearly changed so much, bu-but, you look like you still can’t forgive yourself…”

The autumn chill picks up, and Seulgi shrinks in the face of it. You catch yourself midway into taking off your jacket, undoing the few steps closer your feet had taken you towards her. You remember complimenting this exact outfit on her before. Surely, Seulgi didn’t choose to wear it despite the cold weather because of that, right?

“I don’t understand.” Seulgi sniffles again and looks up at you. “How … is that your reaction to what I said?”

“W-Well, you’re being so vulnerable for me, how can I react an-any other way?”

As she finishes her sentence, another cold gust of wind assaults her, and seeing her curling up pushes you over the edge. Her health is more important than my concern over her reaction to this.

When your jacket comes over her shoulders, her eyes widen and she looks up at you again, with considerably more pink cheeks this time. “O-Oh! Thank you so much, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

As the two of you trod along the leaf-ridden sidewalk, Seulgi’s sniffling dies down. “Do you remember my first time at that café?” Caught by surprise at the sudden question, you take a second to shake your head in response. “The previous night, I didn’t fully plug my phone in, so I missed my alarm and overslept. While showering, I discovered I was on my period, and even worse, my coffee machine broke. Nothing was going right that morning: I had to go back to my apartment because I had forgotten my homework first, and then my phone second, so when I saw that café on my way to class, I decided I needed at least something to push me through that morning. I remember I was double-checking my backpack when my name was called; in a rush and a complete emotional mess, when I went back to my backpack with coffee in hand, I tripped on it spilled my coffee all over you.

“I remember I was ready to cry right then and there. But, I didn’t, because your response to being drenched with a medium-sized cup full of icy-cold coffee wasn’t to be angry, but to be empathetic. You very kindly reassured me that you were ok, checked to make sure I was fine and that my backpack didn’t get wet, and then even offered to remake my coffee free of charge. For you, it was probably just another Monday and I was just another customer. For me, that day, you saved me.”

Seulgi is glowing. It’s like the universe is shining a spotlight on her: the orange sunlight mixes with the orange of the autumn leaves to create a halo effect around her entire body. Seulgi is an angel, and you are basking in her divine presence.

“It’s true that I don’t know much else about you. For five months, I couldn’t find the confidence to ask for your name, and when I finally did, you smiled and pointed at your name tag and I wanted to die right then and there.” The corners of your lips twitch. “But let me tell you what I do know: you’re kind, you’re considerate, you’re friendly, you always try your best, you show empathy and warmth to even customers who are yelling at you for something that isn’t your fault, and you always try to smile. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Did that really happen? How do you have no memory of it?

“So, please, stop beating yourself up for the mistakes you’ve made in the past. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially those who have self-reflected and are striving to be better.”

Seulgi’s very being is blinding. You’ve met women like her before—you’ve ruined women like her before—but none nearly so vibrant. You, on the other hand, are a shadow. Opposites. Never meant to be together.

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t deserve someone like you—”

“Don’t say that!” You jump at how forceful her words are. In the short few months you’ve known Seulgi, this is easily the sharpest tone you’ve ever heard her use. “Don’t just give up on yourself so easily! I don’t know how bad of a person you were in the past, but why does that still matter?”

It hurts. The more reflection you’ve done, the worse you felt. You’ve long since accepted you don’t deserve forgiveness.

“Sunmi forgave you for what you did in the past, right?” You nod. Your eyes land on the shadow the setting sun casts upon the two of you. “But it sounds like you still don’t.” You nod again. But Seulgi makes it sound so easy. Could you…? “Then, let me help. Let me show you that you’re worthy of forgiveness. Or, it doesn’t have to be me, but let someone help you.”

“But … I mean, I didn’t even mean to…”

Seulgi catches the tail end of the unspoken sentence and softly smiles. Despite the redness around her eyes and slight puffiness on her face, her smile, illuminated by the setting sun in the background, stops your heart. “But that makes all the difference, right? That you didn’t mean to?”

A shadow can’t exist without light. Maybe you aren’t opposites after all. Maybe…

“Seulgi, I think you’re wrong.”

Seulgi blinks. “What?”

“It does have to be you.” The confusion on her face slowly transforms into understanding, then of wide-eyed excitement and exuberant joy. “You’re the only one—”

You’re cut off by Seulgi suddenly throwing herself onto you. And, for the first time in a year, you give into your desires, wrapping your arms around her slim frame.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!”

Last year, a particularly bad breakup kickstarted your journey of self-growth. Now, surrounded by the same beautiful array of autumn leaves, Seulgi has somehow reached into your chest and pried open the iron cage you’ve surrounded your heart with. “No, Seulgi. It’s me who needs to promise to make it up to you.”

[direwombat]

wip-nobody-asked-for-it-sunday, but i just really wanted to share the roughest of rough drafts of the scene where syb and jacob have a little scuffle in the slasher au. under the cut bc its long

It all happens in a moment. The snap of a branch above and suddenly a solid 140lbs comes crashing down on top of him, along with a snarling screech. The wind is knocked from his lungs and he's forced to the ground. The gun goes off again before it flies from his hands and skids through the dirt.

[they wrestle.] There's nothing graceful or strategic about it. It's sheer animal desperation. A fight for survival. Feral grunts and snarls from them both. She claws at his face/eyes, her face twisted into a harsh grimace. Her teeth gnash together and spittle flies from her mouth. She grips him by the sides of his head, nails biting into the shell of his ears and she bashes his skull against the ground. and again.

And again.

And again.

With each impact, black dots dance across his vision, the world beginning to blur. His ears are ringing, drool and blood dripping from his mouth and he feels his eyelids grow heavy.

But his prey is hasty. She doesn't wait for him to fully pass out. Doesn't beat him into full unconsciousness. Just the brink. One that he's able to walk back from as soon as her weight abruptly leaves him and he hears the thumping of her boots and snapping of twigs as her footsteps recede.

With a groan, he forces himself upright. It's a struggle. Everything fucking hurts. His head is pounding and while he doesn't think he's concussed, he knows that his scalp is going to be tender. Blood drips from the slashes she made down his face. Impressive considering he knows her nails aren't sharp. Saw the way she chewed most of them down to the quick.

He's unsteady on his feet, stumbling towards the gun that she left behind in her haste. He lets out another groan as he stoops to pick it up and readies it. He has to hand it to her: if she didn't leave that behind, she might have gotten away.

He takes aim at her through the trees. Closes an eye. Inhales a deep breath. Holds it. Takes aim.

And fires.

A crack rings out into the evening, followed by a high pitched yelp, and he watches her go down.

[he stalks over to find her laying on the ground, clutching her shoulder. BLood seeps from between her fingers, soaking through her flannel. Her hair is a mess. Her face covered in dirt and smears of blood. Her chest is heaving, but even as he looms over her, pointing the barrel straight at her face, there isn't an ounce of fear in her eyes.

"Do it," she says, and she spits blood onto the ground. "C'mon, fuckin' do it. Kill me."

He remains still. His finger curls around the trigger. But he doesn't pull.

"The fuck you waitin' for?" she snarls, suddenly enraged. "This your whole thing ain't it? Fuckin' Most Dangerous Game n' shit? Well, ya caught me. You fuckin' won. Now finish it."

But still, he doesn't pull.

And then she starts laughing, a wild, manic look shining in her green eyes. "Jesus Christ, some hunter you are," she sneers. "What? It not get you off if they ain't beggin'? That it? Can't get hard if they ain't pleadin' for their lives?"

He cocks his head to the side. A smile threatens to upturn the stern line of his lips.

She lets her head fall back and stares up at the canopy, rather than him. "Whatever," she breathes. "Ain't like I got shit to live for anyway." Then, quietly, she adds, "'Least it ain't prison."

He frowns and lowers his gun. Feels a strange twinge of…empathy for her. So many people are content to live their lives in the little boxes society puts them in. But not her. She'd rather die free than spend the rest of her life living in a cage.

This, he understands.

He heaves a sigh and lowers his gun. Giving the sole of her boot a nudge with the toe of his own, he grunts, "Get up."

"Why?" she scoffs. "So you can take me on a death march? Can't look me in my face when you kill me? Gon' take me out executioner style?"

"Not gonna kill you," he grunts, and he slings the rifle over his shoulder.

"Then what?"

"Gonna get you patched up."

She lifts her head and regards him with skeptical bewilderment. "Come again?"

"You gonna get up or not?"

She winces again, face pinching in pain as she rolls herself forward so that she's sitting upright. Her teeth are still bared. "You fuckin' serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

She regards him for a moment, scans his face and body language. She narrows her eyes and frowns, but hesitantly rises to her feet and stares him in the eye. "You look like shit," she answers.

The smile he'd been suppressing cracks through and he gently places a hand on her good shoulder. "C'mon. Back to the truck."

[muffindaddystyles]

Will mafia!h and Y/N will have babies? 🥺💓

IM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THIS BESTIE BUT.... </3

39. " I'm not saying a goodbye."

It was raining. Skies a gloomy shade of cinereal. Harry’s sleek car came to a screeching halt infront of the vast threshold of his home -- his grin pearlish, eyes twinkling a spark as he gets out of the car not caring to close the door behind. He greets his staff and strides two steps together with a gorgeous bunch of his lovie’s favourite flowers now dewy with raindrops and his nose twitched upon sniffing the vanilla-y smell while passing the kitchen and with his beam never vanishing he leaned into the doorframe asking the people inside, “’Ave y'seen Y/N?” Only for them to shake their heads in uncertainty.

She hasn’t showed herself downstairs since morning and even though it’s very odd of her not to chirp around the mansion nobody went to knock at her door to inquire, they think she deserves privacy.

This time they should have because when Harry barged inside their room it was caliginous with curtains shut and lights dimmed to zero.

“Lovie?” His cheery voice clamoured against the walls, a sour feeling he couldn’t be aware of pinches him in throat as he bobbed his head around to look for her and it perked up when a shadow falls on his feet.

“Baby?” His smile quirked back onto his confused features and he narrowed his eyelids to take in her presence through the darkness of wardrobe, “Harry.” A shaky whisper floated towards him and before that sweet call she was falling against his chest.

“Y/N ... baby —-,” His stumped chuckle halted, his brain numbed for a moment when his fingertips brushed up her back to push her closer to him and they trembled as they collected the wetness there. His heart bleaks a stinging pain into it’s cords, his breath shuddered coldly, flowers falling sadly beside their feet and his eyes earths with tears of panic, angst and torment.

His fingertips coating in his love's thick blood.

“I –- ‘m .. you –.. you’re h-hu —- hurt,” He stammered through a whimper hand wrapping around the dagger whose half end’s stabbed into Y/N's spine, her weak frail body unresponsive though she could listen to him.

“Who did this to you! Who did this to you!?” His screams and cries startled everyone downstairs and they rushed up to see what’s happening, to be shocked by their sights of Y/N limp in Harry’s embrace.

He turned his neck to shout at them, “I need a hand t’help me!!” His eyes bloodshot and Niall his best-man scurried over to them as Harry carried Y/N and laid her on her tummy on the bed, he slips onto his knees putting his chin on the mattress to look in her hazy painful eyes -- tears caged in them but never flowing down.

“Harry ...” She mumbled grittily in agony lifting her shaky fingers to pet his face and like an affection starved kitten Harry doesn’t let her tire herself and gets closer to her himself, “Niall bring the first aid, it’s under the sink.” He commands him not letting his eyes drift from over her angelic face.

“You’re okay baby. You’re okay, I know how to stitch up knife wounds.” He sniffled sucking in a breath trying to be brave for her and she just smiled gorgeously, lips blue and cheeks draining out of her usual berry stain.

“Jesus. Harry she’s been stabbed thrice, those fuckers,” Niall’s words wavered in fear and sympathy for Y/N. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as Harry sobbed upon hearing that, “No –-... no, no! It’s still okay yeah poppet? I’m g’na get y'alright.” He wanted to covers his eyes to block the hurting groans Y/N elicited and he cradled her soft face in his warm palms in comparison to her temperature, touching their temples to pray together.

“Harry li .. listen to —- to me,” She gasps eyes flittering over his shoulder towards Bambi and Thumper the two dogs that had gotten overly fond of her, Harry’s blurry gaze follows her enfeebled gesture for them to come near her.

They whined and howled sadly flopping beside Harry and Harry hiccupped into his elbow shaking his head when Y/N put her hand under their ears in effort to scratch them but wasn’t able to unfortunately, “Hi babies. You’re gonna look after dad after ‘m gone?” Everyone cried at that watching her soul leave their dull lives that watered colourful upon her arrival.

“Don’t say that! Don’t y'dare say that!” Harry sobbed rushing to hug her tightly, the front of his shirt loathing crimson and she hissed looping her arm against his neck when Niall pulled the dagger out from her lower spine gradually and slowly not to hurt her.

“’M so sorry baby, sorry for being the reason of y’pain.” His tears dampened her already sweaty crook of neck, “Pr – promise me t-that that you’ll have some —.. someone who lov‐-.. loves –--,” She whimpered. Her body jerked into him with a force and she pushed him weakly away to stitch her lips tenderly against his's.

“Tell me bubby. Ha—- have I loved y'enough?” She cooed into their kiss and Harry bolted his eyes shut, poisonous sobs wrecking out of his chest.

“Tell me before, I go ...” Her heartbeat started dropping insanely, her lips wobbled, toes curling with life excavating out of her, “Y'have. Y'have don’t go baby, I’m not saying a goodbye!” He cried showering her in kisses for the one last time and pets her hair, eyes closed praying she takes him with herself because he'd never recover from the pain of loosing the only person he loved more than himself, the person who made hum love himself.

“I love you ..” She whispered, her loving kind eyes locked against his’s and the pool of honey around her rims expanded, her lips parted around the gasping breaths and Harry begged and pleaded — a side of him no-one has ever witnessed as he twisted in anguish considering himself the unluckiest man on the earth for letting his lover go like this, in the worst possible way.

“I love you, I thought I’d never be capable of, y'made me worthy darling. I'll always love you baby....” He shrieked into her chest heaving her up gently to embrace her properly and even though he knew she was no more with him, he fooled himself into thinking so.

If it was possible he’d have clawed his ribs to pluck out his heart in return of hers and he felt like the sun and earth had crashed vanishing away the time spaces as he sat there crying and crying mourning the loss of his lovie that could never be healed by anything in this whole word.

He keeps on holding her, rocking back and forth as he lulls her to slumber of death.

It hurts. It hurts so bad.

His heart weeps.

His soul aches.

When rain stopped and that tranquil silence doomed over them, rage filled his every pore and vein.

He knew who did this. Harry has played dirty but he has never played unfair. It was this gang of companies who sabotaged and destructed the orphanages at the property which belonged to his mother (but the papers weren’t clear) to build restaurants and apartments there so Harry took revenge by burning acres of their illegal drug running underground factory and rebuilt the orphanages and took Y/N to one of their charity events.

She was the happiest he had ever seen her.

It’s like a gun barrel clicked in. A firecracker catching the fuse of ashe to burst everything into flames as Harry laid her with ever most tenderness and kissed her temple, her lifeless eyelids and her chapped lips.

Cleaned the streak of blood with his sleeve and didn’t wipe his tears away bashing out of the room, everyone stepped away as Niall lunged infront of him to stop him before he goes to cause damage to himself more than to them for being in such a vulnerable and weak state.

“Step away.” He growled angrily, gaze fiery and dangerous.

“No.” Niall sighed.

“I wouldn’t get her buried in sucha cold blood. She didn’t deserved this, hell nobody does.” Harry kissed his teeth together gripping at his hair ruthlessly, cheeks dry with tears, his limbs trembling, his head spinning.

“Anyone who wouldn’t follow my orders gets their kneecaps blow-off.” He grunted -- nostrils flaring and saying this he went away, snatching his guns from the console and ordered his men to find the security guards that had their duties at the main gates.

In just a day he hunted each of those monsters down like a hungry wolf and gave them such punished, tortured deaths that each one fell in Harry’s feet for his mercy but his heart was turned into a stone already because the only warmth it had there was because of one person and that person’s gone leaving him to survive in this hellhole alone while he dragged these bastards to the depths of firepits.

Once, coming back home to her. To his sunshine, to his soul and life, to his reasons of getting up every morning so he would get to spend time with her —- he broke down. Into shattered bits and pieces of remorse, guilt and sadness feeling himself so small and hurtable as he cried to himself all alone in their garden with no-one to console him where he’ll come to meet her daily.

He wants to rip his skin apart and set it on fire for his beating heart to stop, for it stop feeling.

He feels sick. Fainting, in urgency and desperation to hold his baby and never let go.

To lay down with her under the soil if that's possible.

his only reason to live.

His only beloved.

.

The wind giggles through pink leaves of cherry blossom tree, lush grass resting peacefully and Harry smiles to himself treading towards his two most favourite people in the world.

The spring being their heartiest month.

“Azalea! What y’chattering ‘bout t'mum?” He asks and nods proudly when his lil boy stands up from his cross position on the ground from beside his mother and brushes the grassy spikes from his cherry printed shorts with his little pudgy hands.

“My first day at school dada!” The four years old squeals and Harry scoops him up in his arms, kissing his cheek again amount less times, “Is that so, huh! huh!” He tickles his little bun.

Y/N was right. Isn’t she always. Harry chuckles. Even if she’s gone he still feels loved from her, she’s in the rains, in the sweaters he wears when he feels shallow, in the scent of his pillows, she’s in the vanilla smell of their favourite cupcakes – she’s in his dreams and that name of their son, Azalea.

She always wanted to name their first born Azalea, a blooming flower that happens to be a vibrant pink, a gift of spring, are floriferous in sunshine and she'd always say that Harry would be their sun.

Their ever source of happiness.

Azalea was three days old when his mother died and Harry took him home even though not sure of his own decision but something in those little eyes that matches his mommy made Harry’s heart attract towards him so much he brought him without another thought.

A home he built with Y/N. The curtains of the mansion still remains pushed back wide, flower vases on every furniture, not a day goes by when anyone doesn’t misses her and the ducklings has grown so much that Y/N would have been spinning in happiness around.

Nothing has changed, life’s fleeting for everyone except for Harry. He counts each day and night that goes without her beside him in his sleep, in the little picnics with Azalea and Niall, in the story reading at nights with his baby, in kitchen to watch the winters first rain prattling against that one window that’s old enough to carry the remains of his ancestors, she’s never there to share a noodle pot with him while he sits and eat alone, never there to patch his favourite socks back, to kiss his forehead whenever he leaves home, to call him sweet names and to laugh with him on his silly jokes, to do thumb fights, to get angry with him whenever he refuses to layer himself in cold.

Never.

Never physically. But, she’s always there in his heart, her presence lurks around him and he could feel the warmth of her wrapping around him whenever he falls asleep watching telly.

“What did y'learn today bubba?” He asks Azalea and grins cheekily when Azalea babbles, “Colours!”

“That’s fuckin’ amazin'!” At that a huge gush of breeze hits him in face a tiny branch of the tree they’re standing under falls on his head.

“Kay' kay fine! No cursing.” He squeaks in defence pouting down at the grave of his lovie and his face splits into a grin when his hair glittered up with cherry blossom leaves.

“We miss you very much,” His voice heavy and sad. He gulps chokingly and blinks away the glossiness, stroking a thumb up Azalea cheek who’s sitting in Harry’s lap.

Every evening they come to meet Y/N, the hole in his heart couldn’t fill up of her void but the soothing feeling of relief that she’s in their garden and nearer to him has lessened the grief.

“G’na meet you tomorrow, our baby’s mighty hungry.” He chuckles hearing the grumbling noises coming from Azalea’s belly.

“You’re so cheeky baby.” His eyes glimmers and he feels himself swooning into breeze, “How’s it going in heaven?” He asks airily tracing his initials beside her beautiful name engraved at the tombstone and it’s like she’s scolding him when he gets a nip on his pointy finger.

“Azalea kiss mommy a goodbye.” Harry breaks into laughter when Azalea bobs his head and almost tumbles of his daddy’s lap in the effort to reach the tombstone.

“Goodbye beautiful.” Harry whispers kissing the top of her tombstone and his heart bursts into lilacs when once again he’s showered into petal like leaves.

“I love you too, baby.” Finally he has accepted to say goodbyes.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - IV

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,800+

Previously on…

As Y/N packed her bags, she was also brainstorming her route once she got to her safe house. She’s just stay there for a couple of nights. Then she’d leave town. Gotham wasn’t safe for her right now. And if she was out of city limits, The Court of Owls had less influence. Though she didn’t doubt they’d send an assassin to the other side of the world to hunt her down.

Y/N looked around her extravagant room.

She doubted she’d ever be back here.

Things were getting…complicated.

It was a cruel reminder for why she kept to herself. People meant drama. Drama meant distractions. And distractions meant she wasn’t focused on the task at hand – which was bringing down the corrupt.

Y/N was just zipping up her duffle when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She turned to see Dick walking in.

He eyed her bag. “What are you doing?”

“I was just about to go pack up my equipment in the cave.”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here,” he confirmed.

She gave him a repulsed look. “Uhh…No, I am not. This mansion is about to be flooded with unidentified members of The Court.”

“Sure is,” Dick smirked. “But I have a solution.”

He held out his hand to show a bracelet. It looked expensive. The band was gold but there was a giant garnet gemstone at the center of it.

Dick handed it to Y/N.

“You shouldn’t have?” Y/N asked with confusion.

“I called in a favor with an old friend. She’s a magician.”

Y/N tried not to laugh, “A magician?”

Dick gave her a playful glare. “Yeah, a magician. But it’s not tricks and gimmicks. She knows actual magic.” He tapped the gemstone. “When you wear this, you’ll look like a different person. It’s a cloaking spell.”

“Why didn’t you guys suggest this right away?”

Dick sighed. “Bruce isn’t fond of metas and…magic.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just leave?”

“I would rather have you in disguise with our eyes on you, than have you out of reach,” he explained softly. “When you’re wearing this, all of us will still be able to see the real you. But not anyone else.”

“I don’t want to go to this stupid gala. I’ll just wear this and stay in my room or the cave.”

“Well…that’s the other part,” Dick cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re gonna be my date.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked her on any kind of date. Not that Dick even asked. He more so told her.

“That wasn’t exactly a request, Dick.”

“Everyone knows everyone. If you’re by yourself, people will ask too many questions. But if you’re my date, no one will think twice why you’re there.”

“I-I don’t have anything to wear…”

Dick laughed lightly. “Alfred already sent out for a dress and shoes for you.”

“…why do I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”

“Come on, Y/N. You know it’s not like that.”

Y/N remained annoyed.

“I’ll be here at your door around 8 tonight, k?” Dick gave her a soft smirk.

“Fine.”

———————

This was just another night for Dick. He’d been dragged to enough of these stupid galas to know the drill: wide smiles, forced laughter, and lay the charm on real thick. With the way this family handled their identities, they could’ve been a family of actors instead of vigilantes.

Dick straightened his cufflinks as he made his way to Y/N’s room.

He could hear the murmur’s of the guest from the ballroom, proving just how many people were attending for the sound to reach him in such a giant manor.

There was a part of Dick that half expected Y/N to be in her usual baggy sweaters and leggings when he opened the door. A silent protest that she wasn’t going to be anyone’s arm candy tonight.

Dick knew he didn’t give her much choice.

When his family had been discussing the situation, Dick tried to off to stay hidden out of sight with Y/N. But Alfred was having none of it. They all knew he took these events rather seriously. Especially one that was started and named after Bruce’s mother.

Dick knocked and turned his back to the door, he double checked there were no guests exploring where they shouldn’t be.

When the door opened, Dick turned around and was stunned to silence.

“Is this bracelet working on you or do I really look that bad?”

Y/N shifted as he stared at her like she’d cast a spell on him.

Dick was seeing Y/N. That was for sure.

“I see the dress fit,” he finally spoke.

What the hell was the matter with him? That’s really what he chose to say?

Though Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “That it does.”

Dick woke up a bit and cleared his throat. “You look…beautiful.”

He never had a problem charming women. So why is he suddenly talking like a total cave man?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Y/N call him out teasingly. “Just because I dress like a scrub every day doesn’t mean I don’t know how to clean up.”

His brow furrowed at the first comment. “You’ve never looked like a scrub, Y/N.”

OK. OK. He was getting back to his normal self.

“Well…” Y/N broke eye contact from her bashfulness. “Thank you.”

Dick held out the hook of his arm. “Shall we?”

Y/N inhaled, “Right.”

As soon as she hooked her hand onto Dick’s bicep, a wave of relief washed over her. She wasn’t doing this alone; she was doing this with him at her side.

“So, what’s the the plan here?” Y/N asked nervously.

“The plan is to blend in. Don’t talk to any press. And…” He smirked. “It wouldn’t hurt to try and have a good time.”

“Right. I’ll try to do that while I’m in a room possibly filled with people who want me dead…” Y/N sighed.

“Not ‘possibly.’ There will be.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Way to make me feel better, Dick.”

He laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time. Damian, Tim, and Bruce will be there, too. And somehow Alfred convinced Jason to even make an appearance. You’re not in this alone, Y/N.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N answered as they arrived to the party. She didn’t bother hiding that she was still extremely nervous and on edge.

“I did really mean it,” Dick told her quietly.

His tone made Y/N tear her eyes away from the party to look at him. “Really mean what?”

“You look beautiful.”

His words didn’t fumble this time. He was confident and clear, leaving no room for doubt or insincerity.

Y/N gave him a shy smile.

“I’m guessing a drink would make this a bit easier, huh?” Dick offered.

“Yes. Yes, it would.”

Dick guided her to the nearest bar.

All the staff knew what the Wayne family looked like. Which meant the bartended skipped over all other guests and b-lined for Dick when he requested a drink, and then looked to Y/N to order what she wanted.

There was loud laughter from a group of people near them. Followed by a voice that Y/N thought she knew, but still sounded a bit off.

When Y/N looked over, she realized it was Bruce talking to a group of guests, who were absolutely fawning over him. He was smiling and laughing, and taking very frequent sips of his drink.

This was Bruce Wayne: the character. Charming playboy, debatable narcissist, and spoiled brat. But in the eyes of Gotham’s elite, he could do no wrong.

Y/N wondered if Bruce had ever considered bringing her as his date. ‘Don’t you start,’ said a voice inside her head.

Dick followed her eye line.

“Doesn’t it make you nauseous watching him like this?” Y/N mumbled.

“Not Dick. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Jason answered.

Dick and Y/N turned to see Jason and Damian.

Yes, Dick adopted Bruce’s charm. But he didn’t rip himself into pieces, building characters that were unrecognizable to the people who actually knew him. Dick’s charm was a part of his personality. His flirtations came naturally. But he only used them on people he intended on building a genuine connection with. (Though Nightwing was guilty of using said charm on targets during missions a few times.)

Y/N looked around for Tim and saw him talking to what appeared to be serious businessman. He was the only one carrying on the legacy at Wayne Enterprises. If any of the boys needed to be here, it was Tim.

“Shouldn’t you guys be making rounds or something?” Y/N asked.

Jason shrugged. “People only cared about us when we were cute kids. Now we’re just spoiled adults who are the product of nepotism.” He smirked down at Damian. “But this one isn’t out of the clear yet.”

“Don’t remind me,” Damian groaned. “At the last one, a woman pinched my cheeks as if I was some toddler.”

“I thought I was about to watch him murder someone,” Dick added.

“I wanted to,” Damian clarified.

Dick started talking to Jason about something.

It provided Y/N the perfect window with the youngest Wayne. 

“I’ll sneak you alcohol if you do a mercy killing for me,” she offered Damian.

The boy looked amused but gave no indication that a deal was made.

“Your date that awful?” Jason teased as he smirked at Dick, who ignored him.

“Do you have the hearing of a dog? Fuckin’ Christ.”

The four of them stuck together for most of the night. Tim would touch base with them every so often. But he kept getting dragged away by board members or partners or anyone that wanted to kiss the ass of the future head of Wayne Enterprises.

Dick and Y/N were laughing at Jason about something when Dick’s face suddenly fell as he spotted something on the other side of the room.

“God damn it, Damian.” Dick hissed as he put his drink down on the nearest counter. He turned to Y/N. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Y/N just nodded.

But then Jason seemed to spot the youngest brother as well.

“I should probably help him and do some damage control,” Jason sighed.

Y/N laughed and nodded for him to go ahead.

“Now you can see why I avoid these shit shows.”

She laughed but pushed him away, “Go help Dick.”

Now that Y/N was alone, her senses was hyper focused on the party around her.

As she reached for her drink, she noticed that her surrounding area had gone eerily quiet. And she felt far too many eyes on her. There were hushed whispers and even gasps. 

“Would you care to dance?” A voice asked from behind her.

Y/N’s entire body tensed.

She turned to see Bruce waiting patiently for her response.

But the look on his face was that of a man she didn’t know.

Bruce had a charming glitter in his eyes and his smirk was arrogant.

Y/N looked around at their audience, then at the dance floor. She was desperately trying to remember the last time she danced with someone.

“Umm…I don’t really know how–” her words came out so slowly.

“How to dance?” Bruce offered.

Y/N nodded.

“You just need a good partner,” he reassured her as he held out a hand.

‘What a fucking line,’ Y/N thought as she tried not to roll her eyes. She half expected him to add a wink.

Bruce guided her to the center of the dance floor and then pulled her closer with his right hand while his left wrapped around her hand.

Y/N wasn’t expecting him to pull her so close, but their body’s were now pressed together.

Bruce moved his mouth to her ear. “Relax,” he murmured.

“It’s hard to relax when you’re using me to set up your new flavor of the week,” she criticized. “Everyone is watching us.”

Bruce may be used to such scrutiny, but Y/N had zero experience with it. And it was safe to say she hated it.

“They’re not looking at me. They’re looking at you,” Bruce corrected.

“A woman who’s not even me. It’s just the dress.”

“I’m happy you like it, seeing as I picked it out,” he commented smugly.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the revelation.

“I see the real you right now, and that’s who I asked to dance.”

Y/N wanted to make a run for it. She didn’t want Bruce with an audience. She just wanted him to herself and she wanted him as he really was.

But her brain shut down for just this song and she followed her heart.

If Y/N concentrated hard enough, she could ignore all the invasive gawking. If she closed her eyes, it was just her and Bruce. So, Y/N tucked her head into his shoulder and let Bruce glide them across the floor.

Somehow she felt that Bruce was allowing himself this as well.

One song was not enough for what they both needed and wanted.

But Y/N would take what she could.

Though what she did not expect was to finally pull away to see Bruce looking utterly heartbroken. As if pulling away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. And for the first time, Y/N legitimately considered that Bruce might want the same thing as she did.

He’ll just never act on his feelings.

If Y/N had blinked, she could’ve missed the moment of honesty and vulnerability Bruce had colored all across his face – bleeding from his eyes.

Because, the next moment, the character was back.

As the party clapped for the band, someone called Bruce’s name. And their locked stare was broken.

And just like that, Y/N was snapped back to reality as if someone threw a bucket of freezing water over her.

Now that Bruce had moved on, no one bothered to keep their voices down. And the upperclass women of Gotham made it loud and clear that they were not pleased with Y/N’s presence.

“Seems he’s found his next prey.”

“She looks half his age, of course he would go for her. Typical man.”

“She’ll eventually learn like we all did.”

“I still say he was the best lay I ever had.”

“Remember when we both slept with him in the same week?”

Now Y/N wasn’t just brought back to reality – she was put in her place.

Before she could even realize what was happening to stop it, her eyes were filled with tears. She had to get out of there.

“Excuse me,” Y/N whispered desperately and she tried to push her way through the crowd.

As soon as she made it outside, she let out a gasp. The fresh air helped, but it wasn’t enough.

There wasn’t any guests outside, but Y/N didn’t feel a safe enough distance from the party. The gardens and maze were in her peripheral and it took her all of two seconds to decide that would be her safe haven.

She hurried through the maze and prayed that no drunken couples had tried to also sneak away from prying eyes. 

But when Y/N reached the center of the maze, she was alone.

A fountain sat in the middle and the sound of its moving water calmed Y/N down a bit. But even that couldn’t stop her tears from finally escaping.

Y/N sat on the edge of the fountain as she tried to get a hold of herself. She could only imagine what this was doing her makeup that she spent an hour doing. 

‘What a waste,’ she thought.

Her escape was short lived. 

Dick called her name repeatedly from a distance.

Y/N panicked at the idea of him catching her crying. She quickly tried to hide any evidence of tears and pull herself together.

Dick finally caught up and let out a sigh of relief from behind her.

“Y/N, you can’t run off like that,” he tried to tell her.

He opened his mouth to lecture her further, but when he finally made it around the fountain and was facing her, his concern shifted. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Y/N struggled to speak without sounding nasally. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You were crying.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to laugh. “Seriously, Dick.”

But he wasn’t having any of it. He moved to sit next to her on the edge of the fountain. Without hesitating, he wrapped an around her shoulder and pulled her into him.

“Come here,” he muttered softly.

Why did it feel so natural for him to do that? Like he’d done it a million times before?

He rubbed her arms. “Jesus. You’re freezing.”

Then he was taking off his suit jacket and putting it over her shoulders. But he didn’t miss a beat, quickly bringing her back into his arms again.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Dick asked after a few minutes of silently comforting her.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to me if it made you cry.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath, feeling like she was on the cusp of crying again. “I’m just like the rest of them.”

Dick waited, feeling like she needed to say more before he spoke.

“They were whispering terrible things. But it was everything I already knew. I’m just another stupid girl that managed to convince herself that she was different.”

Dick was silent as he processed his words. It wasn’t hard for him to know Y/N was talking about Bruce, even thought she never uttered his name. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Dick announced. “Let’s ditch this stupid gala. Get out of these clothes. Put on some sweatpants. And I’ll have Alfred order us as much pizza and wings as you want.”

Now Y/N wanted to cry for a completely different reason.

Dick was the sweetest man she’d ever met.

“Sound like a plan?” He asked her when she didn’t respond and instead just stared into his blue eyes.

Y/N nodded.

“We can even invite my good-for-nothing brothers if that’ll make you happy.”

Her first instinct was to say yes. They all amused her beyond belief. Watching the way they all interacted with each other was like watching a reality show. And it was always obvious how much they loved each other deep down – even with Damian, who would rather die than admit such a thing.

But if all of them were included, who knew when Bruce would eventually make an appearance. And Y/N just didn’t think she could be in a room with him again tonight. 

“Just you and me,” she clarified.

That seemed to please Dick and he nodded. 

“Just you and me,” he confirmed as he offered her a hand up. 

When they started walking back to the manor, Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close to his side.

“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me,” but she said it through a smile.  

Dick looked a bit nervous, but nodded. “Alright.”

“Do you know how to order takeout on your own?”

Dick threw his head back and laughed. “How dare you!”

He pinched her waist, making her yelp. But he didn’t let her escape his hold. “Yes, I do. In fact, when I’m at my own place, I live off takeout. And let me tell you, no one can order food quite like I can. Thank you very much.”  

Once they reached the second floor of the manor, the two of them parted ways to changed out of their fancy clothes.

Y/N washed her face, scrubbing the layers of makeup off. But before she could rid herself of the evidence, she noticed the smeared mascara and eyeliner. 

Words could not describe the relief of putting on baggy sweatpants and a hoodie and fluffy socks after wearing a fitted gown and high heels.

30 minutes later, just as promised, Dick was bringing up a huge pizza and a box of wings to Y/N’s bedroom.

They ate on the floor. Dick managed to light the fireplace that was in there, because Y/N didn’t know what to do with the thing. The television was on, but neither of them were watching it. It was simply white noise.

Two hours later, Y/N was laughing so hard at a story Dick was telling her that she had tears in her eyes and her stomach hurt.

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m not kidding. Ask Jason. He took my clothes and I was ass naked, running through the streets of Gotham. I wanted to kill him.”

Y/N grabbed another wing and got sauce all over her face.

“What?” She asked when Dick was watching her with adoration. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

He tried to hide his smile. “Nope.”

She knew he was lying and then purposely smeared more sauce around her lips. “How about now? Do I have anything now?”

“No. Nothing.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive am I right now?” Y/N laughed as she wiped the sauce off her face with napkins.

“11,” Dick responded without hesitating.

The playfulness was sucked out of the room when they both heard how serious his tone was.

Y/N’s face went somber as she looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.” She laughed lightly, “I’m a lousy date, huh?”

“That’s not true,” he immediately shot down. “This is the most fun I’ve had…” His words died out when he realized he couldn’t even remember. “Well, it’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

“Me too,” she replied with a quiet sweetness.

Through her full-body laughter, she had moved closer to Dick without realizing it.

He glanced at her lips. He just couldn’t help himself. 

The thing about Dick wearing his heart on his sleeve was that it was nearly impossible for him to hide his feelings, his desires. It was all in those blue eyes of his, waiting to easily be read by someone.  

And while Y/N looked at him looking at her, she felt beautiful. Because that was all Dick could possibly think as he stared at her.

Neither knew who leaned in first. Perhaps this was their dance that they weren’t able to have earlier.

But they made up for it by sharing an impassioned kiss now. 

Dick’s lips were softer than Y/N expected. His hands gripped her waist possessively, making it very clear what he wanted – but still being ever so gentle and soft with his touches.

One of Dick’s hands moved from her waist up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair. He tugged on the strands and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

They both could slightly taste the pizza and wings on each other’s lips, but neither of them cared at all.

The kiss didn’t last long enough for either of their liking.

But Y/N pulled away anyways, gasping for air a bit.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he whispered through hooded eyes as he brushed some hair away from her face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile,” he added with a smirk.

But Y/N wasn’t really sorry about the kiss. 

She was sorry because she knew that things were far more complicated than ever.

-----------------------------------------------------

Part V

Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 

Please, please, please write me a book report of what he thought of this chapter. It will be your VDay gift to me 😘

[justauthoring]

A MANIC GRIN. [PART FIVE]

PROMPT: After everything the two of you had been through, years of trust, years of love, you’d thought he’d tell you, trust you, confide in you. You’d been wrong.

PAIRING: Josh Washington x Reader, slight Mike Munroe x Reader (best friends) Please don’t plagiarize my work!!

TAG LIST: @itsfangirlmendes​ - @minigranger​ - @nari-la-morena​ - @jovialcat123​ - @pretty-and-pink-284​ - @sxperncturalimpala67​ - @megzdoodle​ - @thequinzz​ - @kaelyn-lobrutto24​

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR - PART FIVE

“Josh?”

This was crazy. This was absolutely insane.

“Josh!”

Stepping back from Mike and Sam, keeping a distance from them as the two of them rush towards Ashley and Chris, hurrying to untie them; the sound of Josh’s maniacal and terrifying laughter feels like a repeated mantra in your head.

You’d tried to warn them. You’d tried to say something to Sam and Mike. You’d tried to explain but....

Pressing your hands against your lips, his name leaves your lips in a desperate cry. “Josh...”

“Oh, oh, very good!” He cheers, his wide grin never once fading from his lips as he circulates around the lot of them. “Every one of you! Got my name! And after all you’ve been through. Good, good, good, good. I mean, how does that feel? Right?

You don’t think he noticed you. You don’t think he even knows you’re there.

He probably thinks you’re still locked in that room. Away from all of this.

“How does it feel? Do you enjoy feeling terrorized? Humiliated? I mean, panicked? All those emotions that my sisters got to feel once one year ago! Only guess what? They didn’t get to laugh it off! No! Nope! They’re gone!”

No, Josh... No. You’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got it all twisted.

“I don’t know if you noticed this,” Mike speaks up, dark, angered eyes solely focused on Josh and only him. “But none of us are laughing.” He gestures around the rest of everyone else at that. You take another step back into the shadows, somehow feeling that hiding will make you feel better.

It doesn’t.

“Oh come, come-come-come-come. Why the long faces? Come on!”

You wince as he just keeps going; not seeming to catch the hint.

He hadn’t caught it from you. Why would we understand from them?

“It’s good to get the heart racing every now and then, right?” Josh explains, his voice encouraging. “And race they did, I mean, everyone one of you, just pitter-pat-pitter-pat! I hope you appreciated my little phantasmagorical spectacle! I mean, no detail too small! No opportunity missed! It was such a delight to play the puppet master for all of your Pavlovian panic! And all that gore? I mean, gore, there was gore-galore! Fake bodies... I mean, God, that shit was expensive.

“And no retakes! Nope, nope, nope, only double takes! Ah, you should’ve seen your faces. Hook line and sinker. For every little stinker!”

It’s almost like he’s trying to purposely rub it in.

“Josh,” Sam calls, desperate, “why are you doing this?”

“Don’t even ask this squirrely little runt,” Mike huffs, “he’s got no clue. He’s out of his fucking tree.”

“Well, he’s definitely off his meds.”

Your eyes flicker to Chris, relieved, even if only a little that he understands. He’s mad, which you understand, but he knows. He knows Josh. He understands. Understands that while it might seem that way, none of this was necessarily meant to be malicious; he just wanted them to understand.

Josh’s face is blank. He seems lost. “Aw, come on you guys. Revenge is the best medicine!”

“You’re done!” 

Your lips part at Mike’s words, moving to take a step forward.

“Mike,” Chris calls, saying what you’d wanted to say. “He’s sick--”

“What?” Josh calls, stunned. “Come on, you guys are all going to thank me when you guys become internet sensations!”

“Wait, wh-what?”

“Oh, you better believe this little puppy is going viral ladies and germs. I mean, we got unrequited love. We got... We got blood! I don’t think there’s enough hard drives in China to-to count all the views we’re gonna get you guys.”

Josh, you plead in your head, just stop.

“What are you talking about you ass hat?” Mike demands. “Jessica is FUCKING DEAD.”

But... But Josh couldn’t have done that... he just couldn’t have.

One look at Josh’s face and you know he didn’t.

“Jessica is dead and YOU ARE GONNA FUCKING PAY YOU DICK!”

You step forward the moment Mike advances on Josh, his name leaving your lips in a desperate plea just as he bashes the hilt of his gun against Josh’s head, effectively knocking him out. There’s a moment of stunned silence, and you’re not sure what to say, but then you remember that this is Mike and he... he has to listen to you.

“Mike,” you call, voice soft, nervous, hesitant. “Mike, Josh didn’t kill Jess.”

Mike doesn’t move. Not at first.

“Mike, please, listen to me,” you plead, desperate. “I-I don’t know what happened with you and Jess, but I know Josh didn’t kill her. He... He couldn’t have. I just--”

And then in the next second, Mike is whirling around to face you, the end of the gun pointed directly at your face.

A chorus of gasps echo, but you barely pay mind to the rest of them, your gaze solely focus on Mike. A moment of stunned silence echoes, the fact that he’s pointing a gun to you seems so incredibly bizarre that you almost feel you’re imagining it. That this is all just one really long fucked up dream and in the next second, you’ll blink and suddenly find yourself back in back with Josh and everything will be okay.

But, you blink, and everything’s the same.

“M-Mike--!”

“How do I know?” He cries, voice twisting in desperation as he shakes his head. And you assume he’s talking about Jessica, about Josh being responsible for her death; but then he says; “how do I know you weren’t part of it?”

And his words surprise you so you stammer for a reply for a moment, speechless, that Chris manages to get a word in before you.

“What?”

You turn to look at the other three. Notice the bewildered looks on Chris and Sam’s face, but then you noticed the hardening glare Ashley sends your way and your heart sinks with the realization that if it hadn’t stung enough that your best friend thought this; he wasn’t the only one.

“Mike,” Sam calls, stepping forward. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mike keeps his harsh gaze on you. “How could she have not known? How could he have not told her?”

The fact that he regards you as if you’re not even there....

“Just like I didn’t know,” Chris calls, standing up. “I’m his best friend and he didn’t tell me.”

You swallow thickly, turning to Mike. “Please, Mike,” and you take a step forward, only to flinch back when he shifts, tightening his grip on the gun. “Puh-please. Listen to me. I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me. I came up here with you, remember? Because Josh said he had something to do, and I-I told you he wouldn’t tell me. Remember? Please.”

Hands shaking, Mike shakes his head. “How do I know you weren’t lying?”

“Mike, it’s me,” you call, voice pleading, cracking. You press a hand against your chest, shaking your head. “It’s me. We’ve known each other for years. You’ve always been able to tell when I’m lying.” You pause a moment, face hardening. “So look at me and tell me I’m lying.”

There’s a pause, Mike doesn’t say anything.

“Mike,” Sam calls, “this is crazy. I found Y/N tied to the bed, terrified. She was with me until he took her.”

“Yeah, took her,” Mike glares, “how do we know that wasn’t just part of his elaborate plan.”

“Because it wasn’t!” Sam cries, “I know!”

Licking your lips, you take a step forward, this time fighting the urge to flinch as Mike straightens out. “What are you doing, Mike? Are you going to shoot me?”

“What!” He shrieks, faltering. “Of course not! I... I just don’t think we can trust you.”

“You can’t trust me, Mike?” You cry, gaze watering as you shake your head. “Me?”

His lips tremble and his gaze softens.

“I didn’t know. Not before. Not during any of this.” You explain, trying to keep your voice levelled. “And then, when he took me,” you glance back at Sam, “Josh pulled off his mask, told me his plan, told me why he was doing it. I tried to get him to understand, realize he was making a mistake, I really did. But he wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t taking his meds. I thought he was, I really did. But he wasn’t, and he just wouldn’t listen to reason.

“He kept telling me I’d understand. That it’d make sense. But he had to finish first. He locked me in that room and I tried to get the words out when you and Sam found me, but I was in shock, Mike. Disbelief. I mean, I still don’t understand any of it. And then we heard Chris and Ashley and well, then,..”

The rest was obvious.

A moment passes. No one says anything and you don’t dare to take your gaze off of Mike, desperate for him to believe you.

And then, his gaze falters and his lowers his hands and this breath of relief rushes out of you. You step back, pressing a hand to your chest as you glance back at the rest. Sam rushes to you, making sure you’re okay to which you nod to her questions, not really saying anything.

You keep your gaze on Mike.

He moves to Josh, crouching down, and using some of the rope that had tied Chris and Ashley to the chairs to tie his wrists behind his back. He calls Chris over for help before the two of them are hefting him up to his feet, struggling slightly.

“Where are you going to take him?”

The sound of your voice surprises Mike, but nonetheless, he answers. “The shed out back. Until morning. He shouldn’t be left alone, but I don’t want him here.”

His gaze falls on Ashley, and you glance over at her, noticing the look on her face as she regards Josh.

“Okay, then,” you call, pulling back from Sam gently, “i’m coming.”

“What?” Mike blinks, turning to face you. “No.”

“Yes,” you correct, shaking your head. “I’m not leaving him alone. And besides, a few minutes ago you were ready to throw me there with him, weren’t you?”

And by his guilty expression and silence, you can tell he can’t argue anything else.

-

PART 6?

This chapter is a bit shorter but I really just wanted to get it out and posted for you guys, so I hope you don’t mind!!

[creativeashproductions]

We Wouldn’t Be Us // Charlie Gillespie

IN WHICH: We get a look into the timeline of the reader and Charlie’s relationship from the first date that wasn’t so perfect to the news they get. The relationship has its ups and downs like all relationships do but this one brings the birth of a song. They know in their relationship that anything less just wouldn’t be them

Warnings: Swearing, an argument, allusion to sex (NO SMUT), pure fluff

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I suppose this is an entry for @cherrymaybank​’s Valentine’s Day Fic Challenge. 

Based on the song We Wouldn’t Be Us by Alexandra Kay

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Every dress didn’t seem to fit properly no matter what mirror with different light in your apartment you tried. The spare bathroom’s bulb was dying, so that made the colour appear off, and the best mirror was dirty, which would dampen the romantic goal. Nothing made you feel that oomph that you desired for this date. 

You could wear the standby little black dress of which you had two options, the clubbing one or the work appropriate one. It didn’t seem right to choose a standard black and no colour for this insanely sweet guy that had this insane energy. With that thought in mind, you dug deeper in your closet for that special dress that you’d never found someone worthy of it. It was your best dress and your most expensive with the tags still on. You would have gone for the maroon dress but it was Valentine’s Day and that seemed like over kill.

Somehow it still fit perfectly despite the length of time from purchase, it was a vibrant green satin with lace matching the colour. The dress's satin ended just below the knee with the matching lace falling an additional six inches past. The A-line skirt was loose flowing contrasting to the form-fitting material across your bust and midsection. 

One of your favourite parts of the dress was the off-shoulder bateau neckline that gave a tasteful sneak of your cleavage. The bottom of the thick straps came to make a perfectly straight horizontal line. Across your waist was a one-inch wide satin ribbon attached to the dress that formed a perfect bow that tied the outfit together, no pun intended.

“Whoa.” You breathed stepping in front of the floor-length mirror kept in the spare bedroom, it had once been your roommates’ room before she moved.

You had to admit the dress was magical with it, bringing out all your curves and went with your skin tone. It was a pure shock to see how you managed to make the dress come to life with just a makeup look that was easy to do. All you did next was your favourite beige heels that went with everything. You had just slid on the left heel when the buzzer sounded and slid the right on as you hit the button unlocking the apartment building door.

“This is going to be perfect.” You breathed leaning into the mirror beside the front door. You inspected your lipstick as a knock sounded on the dark brown wood of your door. 

“You look gorgeous.” Your date breathed, widening those colour changing irises as he took in your outfit, “You take my breath away. Happy Valentine’s Day”

Your cheeks flushed, “Thank you, Charlie.”

He stepped into the apartment as you quickly went to the kitchen to grab your coat and purse with your essentials. He had gently retrieved the coat from your arms to help you into the cold jacket. 

“I know traditionally I would have brought you flowers, but I also know you love books.” Charlie breathed grasping the items in his hands, “So I got these flowers.”

His warm hands held three books. The top one was The Orchid House by Lucinda Riley with a cover that had the background blurry with only the back of a girl in clarity. The girl’s pink dress matching the flower in the upper corner of the book. The next cover proudly displayed The Rose Garden by Susanna Kearsley with red flowers growing down on a stone building. The third one was a light pink book with an anatomically correct heart with flowers growing out of the arteries, veins and valves; a collection of poetry I Saw You As a Flower by Ellen Everett. Lastly, you held Rupi Kaur’s second collection of poetry The Sun and her Flowers that had come out a couple years ago.

“Charlie, this is so thoughtful. You even has a rose one!” You breathlessly spoke gently touching the covers, “Thank you so much for these.”

“I thought we could read them together?” Charlie was bashful as he quietly asked with flushed cheeks. He didn’t know why he felt like this was his very first date all over again.

“I’d love that.” You softly told the Canadian with the manners a mother would be jealous to have in her home. Charlie’s fingers linked with yours as he tugged you out of the apartment into the hallway.

Your hands swung during the short walk from the apartment building to his bright orange Subaru across the street. The sound of the light wind rustling the trees lining the sidewalk mixed with the humming from Charlie was a perfect film score. He was the ideal gentleman even before he asked you out.

You couldn’t wait to tell your close loved ones about Charlie. You could really see this going somewhere. The relationship that is, as you were now on the side of a road with the Subaru’s hazard lights flashing.

“I forgot to fill the tank.” Charlie moaned, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. His eyes clenched just as tight as his fists.

The Canadian was so embarrassed to have had what he thought was the best date of his life. He’d played music from the playlist he had patiently curated specifically for this date, and he held your hand to the restaurant. He’d already made plans for another date when his car’s warning beeped.

In Charlie’s haste, he’d forgotten to fuel up his car, so here he was with the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his passenger seat. His confidence in a second date had greatly diminished.

“Char, you said Owen was on his way. There isn’t anyone else I’d prefer to be stranded with. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I wanted this date to go perfect. This is my first Valentine’s Day with someone.” Charlie admitted turning his head to stare into warm pools of your e/y colours. His eyes scanned the soft smile that appeared on your face as his confession, “I had this whole thing planned out, and now you definitely won’t want a second-”

“I’m gonna kiss you. If you don’t want that, let me know.” You murmured before pulling him in for what would be the best kiss of your life thus far.

Sure his car broke down, but you kissed him anyway. He tasted of the complimentary chocolate dessert from dinner.

A Year Later

A young, admittedly broke couple sat on the cold floor of the unpacked kitchen eating SpaghettiOs. You had only just moved into the studio apartment with Charlie that had drained most of your savings. Had it not been in a decently safe area in the city and a close commute you would have said no.

But it was the perfect starting place for you two as you both were unfamiliar with living with an SO. It sucked on each of your ends to not have a better situation, Charlie wanted nothing more than to spoil you on the first day living together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible but sitting on the floor with a cheap candle was imperfectly perfect.

“I’m sorry we’re eating out of cans.” Charlie whispered pointedly, keeping his eyes on the spoon, stirring the red sauce with the beige circles.

“Char this is perfect. As long as it’s you and I then anything is perfect. Besides we didn’t label the boxes, I have no idea which box has our kitchenware.” You admitted glancing at the boxes boarding the edge of the room. 

You ate out of cans for at least a week before you had unpacked the kitchen and had the means to buy actual groceries. Living together thus far had been going super smooth until wasn’t.

It was a bad day on both your parts, your entire work was deleted after a computer glitch. Charlie had auditioned for a role he had been really really wanting since he heard about it. Your father came down with the flu axing the plans to meet for dinner; it would have been the first time in six months you saw him in person.

The apartment's atmosphere had been rising and very volatile by mid-afternoon when Charlie blatantly forgot a deal. If he was going to play music, it had to be in the study so you could focus on your work. 

Today he’d decided to be in close vicinity to have a virtual jam session with both Owen and Jeremy. He’d chosen the room you were in solely because it had the best wifi reception which you needed as well.

“Charlie, please can you go to the study? I’m trying to finish this!” You cried out as he struck a chord on the electric. His eyebrows came other in the glare he sent you, “I lost all my work last night.”

“The guys and I are working on songs-”

“-Charlie, this is due tonight. I can’t concentrate with-”

“It’s not my fault you have a shitty attention span!” Charlie angrily snapped contradicting the gentle touch on his guitar. He placed it back on the stand to not accidentally damage it, “The wifi is best in this room.”

“I’m very much aware of that Charlie. Out of the two of us, I use it the most. Can you please either move to the study or at least wait an hour so I can finish?” You pleaded with the Canadian actor ignoring the two guys on the computer silently waiting for the fight to be over.

“Why can't you mov-”

“Fine. I will.” You fully stared down your boyfriend for a full five seconds before you harshly closed the top of your computer. It took seconds to gather your work stuff into the leather satchel you stored the computer in, “You didn’t even mute the call.”

Charlie watched as you swiftly pulled on your jacket, “Babe-”

The sound of the door slamming shut cut his sentence before he even had a chance to speak his thoughts. The apartment was eerily silent compared to the sounds of music that always played through the Bluetooth speaker.

The inspiration to play evaporated with the aftermath of a stupid argument permeated the apartment typically filled with love. All three actors quietly said their goodbyes before they ended the video call.

You spent an hour uncomfortably sitting in a cafe finishing up what you’d needed to finish with the argument replaying. Your finger barely hit the button to send the email before you had already stepped outside the business. You spent the walk struggling to draft a text to your boyfriend. 

It didn’t matter because when you walked into the apartment, you heard the soft song you’d both deemed yours. It was cheesy, but that was part of Charlie’s charm. Speaking of your boyfriend, he was sat on the floor of your kitchen with matching mugs of brownies.

“I’m sorry. I was insensitive.” Charlie started as soon as your jacket was draped over one of the kitchen chairs. His usually wide smile was as bashful as the one he’d worn on the night of your first date.

“No I’m sorry, Charlie. I could have easily put on my headphones or moved to the bedroom for a bit. The fight was stupid, and I love you so much that sometimes I think I take you for granted. I mean, look at you! You made the brownie cups-”

“Even sitting on the cold floor like when we moved in.” Charlie cheekily inserted, reaching over to hold your hands in his, “I like our tradition. I definitely like how we upgraded from SpaghettiOs to brownies.”

“Me too.” You breathed leaning over to press a lingering kiss on his lips. His hands delving into your hair to keep you close.

The butterflies stormed your stomach as the heat slowly inflated from your toes until it reached your flushing cheeks. Raw emotion pouring into the passionate kiss that only closed down as you broke for air. But you also went back in as that warmth slowly built in your tummies. Charlie’s eyes marginally opened to ensure he wasn’t imagining the Angel he got to kiss.

Finally, with heavy breathing, you pulled apart, but only a fleeting moment froze the time in the apartment. For, as soon as Charlie caught your dilated pupils, his one hand cupped the back of your hand, fingers tangled in your h/c tresses. 

Soon enough, you were making up on the kitchen floor with each article of clothing tossed in the vicinity. A shirt landed on the kitchen sink spout. The brownie mugs forgotten as you gave into the passion with your boyfriend. Your lovemaking had you missing supper.

Charlie’s solution was a trip to the local authentic English pub founded by a nice guy from London. You never failed to stop him for a dance in the empty street as his smooth voice gave music for smooth motions. Dancing was a common thing from pulling off the road in Dieppe to dance. You drank and danced at the pub until Jack cut you off at 2am as his pub rules had.

You and Charlie just laughed in a love bubble as the real-world worries faded because you always came together in the rough times.

Months later you returned to Dieppe with Charlie to spend the holidays with them. The entire family together creating such a welcoming atmosphere.

“I’m gonna grab a glass of water.” You informed the group of gals ad non-binary pals who had gathered in Meghan’s bedroom. The group had decided to sleep over Meg’s childhood room with face masks, nail polish and lovely wine.

Meg and Jeannette both nodded to acknowledge your announcement before they returned to their respective conversations. You took a moment to take in the great group of Gillespie and Co you had the honour to be part of. The thirst was only temporarily forgotten in the happy bubble you found yourself in.

You practically skipped to the kitchen, barely noticing the two people in the living room, but their words stopped you in your tracks. Your boyfriend, Charlie Gillespie, stood close to his older brothers Ryan, Patrick and Michael.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry-” Charlie caught himself from finishing the sentence when he saw you standing pale-faced at the opening into the living room.

His entire body was encapsulated by the lights casting in the living room from the Christmas tree. The tree couldn’t hold a candle to the ring of your dreams that promptly had you bursting into tears.

“I RUINED THE SURPRISE!” You sobbed dropping your face into your cold hands, avoiding the gaze of the Gillespie brothers. Had you not been hiding in your hands you would have known the older three had vacated the room.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Charlie cooed with the ring safely put away in the box he had shoved back in his pocket, “You didn’t ruin the surprise. I shouldn’t have been telling my brothers in the middle of the living room.”

Charlie’s warm hands slowly pulled your hands from your soft post-mask skin with such a pretty healthy glow. He could see the remnants of the mask on the edge of your scalp, but it didn’t take away from your beauty.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, staring up at him from underneath your eyelashes. The soft hazel eyes not upset in the least, things often didn’t go the way you wanted to together.

Take the first date from over two years ago where you and Charlie had waited for Owen to meet you with a jug of gas. You’d shared childhood stories and future dreams. Or the time you hadn’t marked the boxes creating an entire week of eating out of cans and cartons.

Ruining the proposal was almost expected at this rate.

“I knew from the moment I saw you in that emerald dress I knew that you were the One for me. I’ve adored each moment I’ve gotten with you from the spontaneous dances on the side of the road. To bursting into song in the middle of the street.” Charlie shakily started with sweating bands but an open heart, “When your best friend told me the emerald dress was the special one, it melted my heart.”

“Charlie.”

“Other than my belief that this relationship will last, I was only ever sure of one thing in my life. I was sure I would be an actor, but now I’m more sure that my favourite role will be supporting you, loving you and evolving with you as your husband.” Charlie sniffled, taking one hand from yours to wipe the tears flooding his cheeks, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” You breathed lunging on your tiptoes to kiss him with as much passion as you could. Your hands caressed the skin of his cheeks; his long tresses tickling your wrists.

“God I love you.” Charlie gushed with a gentle shake of his head. His hazel pinned to your e/c eyes as if you were the most precious gem in the world.

A voice cut the bubble enveloping you, “Well are you gonna put the ring on her finger or what?”

Charlie’s head moved to meet the teary eyes of his mother surrounded by his siblings as they bounced on their feet. You laughed as your now fiance clumsily rushed to slide the absolutely gorgeous ring on your finger. 

“Welcome to the family officially.” Jeannette cheered along with the celebratory whistles and yells as the crowd of the family grew more and more. Soon enough, the entire room was overflowing with people congratulating your new engagement.

Months later, you stood in front of that same group holding the hands of your handsome fiance. Both dressed to the nines in front of the officiant.

“I wasn’t looking for a fairytale, because they all end the same. The princess has a conflict that she revolves with the help of the prince. They get married and live happily ever after. I adore how we’re writing our own story that fits our relationship. Charlie Gillespie, I wouldn’t change a thing about our lives. I wouldn’t have it any other way even with the fighting and slamming doors, but we always end up on our kitchen floor making up with two brownies in mugs.” Your vows brought tears among the onlookers along with the Canadian barely keeping it together.

The vows would later be eloquently transformed into lyrics from you with the accompanying melody provided by Charlie. On Valentine’s Day, you played the song on the kitchen floor with a plate of brownies. Three brownies waiting to be devoured.

“Three for each of us.” You wept as you watched as Charlie melted into a puddle of joyful tears. He took no time in placing his hand over your flat stomach.

Yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially when Valentine’s Day become more to the Gillespie family; a new little love taking up the day.

(Reader’s Dress In Beginning)

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[giorno-plays-piano]

Cry Little Sister

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, verbal threats, gaslighting, both reader and Peter are high school students, kinda slight incestuous undertones (the characters aren't related, though).

Words: 2214.

Summary: Your adopted older brother is not as nice as he seems, but no one is willing to believe you.

P.S. And yep, I used one of my favourite citations from Grishaverse in the end of this story. Hope you enjoy!

__________

"Peter, sweetheart, I knew you'd make it!" Your mother had clasped her hands together while your father patted Peter's shoulder. "The best test results in the whole class! My goodness, we need to celebrate it!"

You smiled at them tiredly, seeing the faces of your parents practically glowing. True, Peter was a damn smart guy. You had never achieved such high results despite all those nights you spent studying, while he didn't care much about it at all, it seemed. You hadn't seen him with a book yet.

"I'm gonna bake an apple pie for you." A smile of your mother made you feel bitter, and you averted your eyes, missing an odd look your older adopted brother sent you.

Half a year ago he finally came to live with your family once your parents finished gathering all the papers and waited for almost a year to receive "the call". You remembered how you had jumped happily in the living room along with your mom, believing it was finally over. Well, maybe it was over for Peter, but for you it was only a beginning. You could hardly imagine the sweet skinny guy who you considered very shy and bashful would change so drastically.

It started very subtle. First, Peter was trying to be helpful, assisting you when you did the housework - he was actually way better at cooking and cleaning than you and easily got praised by your mom. You were truly thankful to him for his help, especially since it was easier to get to know him while working together. It was then when you first spotted the odd looks he was sending you when he thought you didn't see. There was something... uneasy lingering in his gaze. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but sometimes Peter made you shiver with the way he spoke or touched you discreetly. It was strange. Of course, the boy didn't do or tell you something that would make you worried, but you just couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. You blamed it on the fact you couldn't get accustomed to a new life with an adopted brother yet. Surely, it wasn't supposed to be easy?

But the more you spent time together, the stronger that feeling got. Despite Peter becoming a part of your family as easily as if he had always been your parents' son, you were wary of his sudden urges to touch you and always keep you in his sight. At first you thought he was just touch starved and needed human warmth. Maybe for Peter it was just easier to come to you rather than your parents since you were almost the same age as him.  But then... one day you saw him going through your things and taking one of your lipsticks from your makeup bag. You suddenly remembered losing a lip gloss two weeks ago.

Trying to voice your concerns, you talked to your mom who was so insensitive she went to speak with Peter right away. Of course, he said it wasn't true and you had probably misunderstood him since he only wanted to borrow a pen. He even showed his table and wardrobe to demonstrate he didn't hide anything.

From that time Peter had changed. He didn't hide his unhealthy behavior from you anymore, and he was scaring you with the things he had done, keeping an eye on you when you were around and stalking you if you were not, never staying far away aside from the time he had to be in class.

Of course, he sensed that you were becoming resteless, less and less eager to spend time with him, blaming it on lots of homework or sudden meetings with friends. You weren't blind to his frightening affection - if you could call his feelings like that. Why was he doing it? Despite spending only several months living with you, your parents loved him dearly, paying him twice more attention than you. You had never protested against it, knowing a poor soul like him who didn't have his own family needed all the help he could get now. But this... this wasn't alright. This wasn't a feeling siblings should have for each other. Did Peter consider you one? Did you truly consider him your older brother? You weren't sure. Nevertheless, it still didn't feel right.

Carefully, you attempted to talk to your father about it, vagualy wording your concerns and giving him little details - sure, you didn't like how Peter was behaving, but he didn't deserve to be banished from your family and sent back. You still believed something could be done to set everything right. Maybe the boy just didn't realize things were not supposed to work this way in a family. However, your father laughed it all off. He said little girls like you were thinking too much of themselves lately, claiming the whole world was obsessed with them. Peter simply tried to be a good brother and look out for you.

You had never felt more humiliated in your entire life.

Dropping all attempts to bring Peter's unhealthy behaviour to your parents' attention, you decided there was just one thing to do - separate yourself from him completely.

No more doing the housework together, no more chats in the kitchen in the morning, no more having lunch together at school, no more cuddles in the evening. You kept yourself as busy as you could - in the morning you did jogging, at school you spent time with your friends, in the evening you were taking your books and doing your homework in the park, at your friend's place or anywhere convenient. Even though Peter tried following you, you had started to change places all of a sudden to keep him away from you.

This was when he had enough of you distancing yourself.

Suddenly, Peter fighted for affection of your parents with such ferocity as if you tried to strip him of their love. His gradea were suddenly way better than yours - he claimed he had finally felt safe in his new home and could spent his energy elsewhere. The way he behaved was even more sweet than before. On the other hand, strange things started happening to you: once your mother found your expensive satin blouse torn and blamed it on you and your carelessness; the other time the chicken you cooked was so salty it ended in a trash bin; your friend received threats coming from your phone number, though you had never ever sent anything like that to her.

It was easy to guess who was doing this to you, but Peter never admitted it out loud. Talking to your parents was worthless, too, as in their eyes the boy was a pure blessing. How could you blame him for things you did to catch their attention?

Shit. You knew something was wrong with Peter, but you could hardly imagine to what extent he could go to have his way. It was unbelievable a boy like him could manipulate people so easily, wrapping them around his finger. Why was he doing it? Everyone already loved him. Everyone but you.

"Y/N!" Your mother's sharp voice broke the silence, and you hurried downstares, finding your mom near the washing machine with a wet black sock in her hands. "Are you out of your mind?! Did you put your black socks in there when I said to bring your WHITE clothes?!"

"But I didn't!" You gawked at her, knowing perfectly you only brought her what she asked you to. "I swear I didn't!"

"Oh yes, of course, it's Peter who went through your dirty clothes to incriminate you, dear." She sneered at you. "You have to come up with a new excuse, this is getting old. Look what you've done, my white jeans are ruined!"

"Please, mom, I-"

"Go to your room. I don't want to see or hear you." She snapped, tossing the sock to the floor as you stared at her in horror. She had never been so irritated like in the past month when your "slip-ups" were happening more and more often.

Racing upstairs, you pressed your hand to your mouth, trying not to cry. Why was he still doing it to you? Why did Peter want everything to be like he wished? Why did your parents never believe you? It was you who was their true daugther, for God's sake!

Locking the door, you fell down on your bed, burying your head in your soft pillow. It started to become unbearable. Why was this all happening? Despite your growing hate towards Peter, you couldn't say that he was ugly and unpleasant. He was easy on the eyes and could be really nice to people around him, and it made Peter quite popular among the girls at school. Why on Earth didn't he set his eyes on anyone other than you? There were plenty of girls who'd be willing to date him and give him as much attention as he wanted.

You wiped away your angry tears with your pillow, biting on your lower lip. It was unfair, and you weren't going to give in to him just because Peter wanted to play with you like a spoiled child. You'd find a way to prove you weren't guilty of all those things he wanted to pin on you, you just needed to gather yourself and think properly.

Suddenly, you heard someone knocking on your window and rushed to it immediately: your room was on the third floor. Seeing Peter sitting on the bench of a tree, you gasped in shock. You opened the window right away, praying for him to stay still.

"Are you out of your mind?" You whispered in horror, holding out your hand to him. "What are you doing there?!"

He smiled at you like nothing was happening, taking your arm and crawling towards your window. In the next moment he was already inside your room, grinning like a kid and shutting the window behind himself. You furrowed your brows, your heart racing. Peter was insane!

"What if you slipped?" You asked him furiously. "Are you mad? Do you want to die?!"

"No, but you wouldn't let me in your room unless I came in the window." He admitted carelessly and smiled, reaching out to you and enveloping you in a hug. "I'm glad you don't want me to fall."

"You're out of your mind, brother." You grunted, trying to push him away, but his grip was only becoming stronger. "What are you doing? Let me go, please."

"But I want a hug from you. Is it so bad?"

You clenched your teeth, watching him angrily. "You just made my mom scream at me for that stupid sock. You think you deserve a hug?"

"I only did it because you're stubborn. It's your fault I had come to this, Y/N." His sickly sweet smile made you nauseated as you put your hands on his chest in attempt to keep him away. "Come on, why have you been acting so cold? I just want to be a part of your family."

"Are you serious?"

Your eyes could burn a hole in his face as you stared at him, getting more and more angry with his behaviour and trying to blame you for his own actions.

"This isn't like it should be in a family, Peter. We're siblings now. Siblings don't do it... l-like that." You felt your face growing hot as you became deeply embarrassed, knowing how your words could be interpreted.

"But we're not siblings, are we?" He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his dark eyes at you and smiling widely.

You growled in irritation, still unable to get rid of him holding you like a doll in his hands.

"If you don't want me to be your sister, what family are you talking about, then?"

"We'll, it's not the only family I can have with you, right?"

You stilled, unsure you understood what Peter meant as he chuckled with content, watching you getting more and more confused while he gently caressed your back. What other family he could possibly mean?

It took you a few seconds to realize he was talking about marriage between you two.

Your eyes popped out of its sockets. Was he fucking serious? That kind of family? No, he should have been out of his mind completely. He definitely had to see a psychiatrist or something!

"You're joking, aren't you?" You muttered, shocked. "You can't be serious!"

"But I am, sister." Peter's sweet smile was slowly turning sinister as he leaned closer to you, dropping a kiss to your temple as you shivered against him, wanting nothing but get away. "And you better stop with that silly attitude of yours if you don't want me to get real angry."

"And what are you going to do if I don't? What if I will tell everyone about this?"

He smirked, touching your forehead with his and closing his eyes for a second.

"I see you still don't understand." Peter whispered to you, watching you getting more and more nervous. “I will strip away all that you know, all that you love, until you have no one but me.”

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@void-hoechlin @abyssaint @heeeyitskay @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight

[lumosinlove]

Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse

Previously On Relic Keel

Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island.

Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern.

After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends.

Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit.

Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort.

The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father.

Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio.

Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo.

James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks.

Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself.

Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out.

A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

part v

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as he’s getting away from his mother. 

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest gal pal didn’t like golf. He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am his little princess,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am,” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate me, and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a great actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned how.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over that any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I crave his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, thanks,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a schemer. You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are you worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I know he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, how do we not know what’s up with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got out? As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it safely. Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

~

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road.  He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. Frankenstein. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “You’re at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

~

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was—good. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she did love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, you’re staring out a window. What do you see? What the fuck kind of prompt is that? That’s what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me why I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, honest, I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s—exactly.”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered how she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” the paint. Everything.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of wanting him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel awful about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you are. But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

~

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, Frankenstein in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. Get in, tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re funny, Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“No,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say go back.

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? Saint.”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something feels good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn���t know. Which means I make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading Frankenstein through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought. 

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking—fetch me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio and he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of course I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary treasure.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

~

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on Wolfsbane, and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to know about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I ever pass that up?”

~

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, very noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said New Orleans Saints.

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little godly sleepover, but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there is something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.

[buildmeafairytale]

Orc Boyfriend - Bash

Oh my gosh guys I just hit 160 followers! I honestly didn’t think I would have nearly this many when I made this blog, and I’m so thankful for all those who read and like my stories! Here’s another one featuring a gifted woman and her orc babe. If you like my work, please consider donating to my kofi, it helps me out a lot <3 Also, sorry if you’re seeing this twice, I had to fix the ‘keep reading’ thing so it wouldn’t be so long. NSFW

 I was a little girl when I heard the siren’s call. My parents were busy doing anything but watching me, and slipping away was never hard. I followed the voice through the forest near my home, the song notes pulling at me like strings tied around my bones. I saw a woman laid out near a creek, sick and dying. She was singing a mourning song for herself, so I sat with her and tried to offer her any comfort I could. She was scared of dying alone; that much I could tell from her pained wails. So I sat there and held her hand for as long as it took, and she thanked me with a gift. I felt the power come over me, blue lights whirled up my arm and through my body from where my hand was grasping hers. I didn't understand what had happened for a while, but it became impossible to ignore. I would whistle a tune and birds would start to follow me, or I would sing and my parents would suddenly want to spend time with me. I didn’t understand the strength of the power until I started school, though. A boy tried to grab at me and lift up my skirt, and the shrill sound that left me was anything but human. He was on the ground with blood pooling in his ears by the time my mouth sprung shut. 

I was more careful after that. Being different in my town is often a death sentence, so I learned to control it and keep this power to myself. I always figured my parents had a hunch, but as they didn’t spend time with me much I was unsure. That was until my parents sold me off, though. Then it was confirmed.

 The men came in the middle of the night. They were dirty and unkempt but dressed in good, although mismatched, armor. They probably had a single set of teeth between them all. I heard the commotion and came downstairs. 

 “Ah good, she’s awake. Go ahead and take her, I have no need for her here.” I heard my father say, his nose upturned and his awful fake accent exaggerated. 

 I watched my father be paid by them while my mother stood to the side. Her lips were pinched tight but she did not speak up in my defense. I looked back and forth in confusion, still half asleep and not understanding what was happening to me. They stood there by the large french doors, draped in their finery while I was sold like a broodmare. 

“She is a monster,” I heard my mother say, “do not be afraid to treat her like one.”

The men went to grab me, but I tried to fight. I squirmed and clawed, and they led me away as I struggled in their grasp. I opened my mouth to scream but I was hit over the back of the head before I could get a sound out.

When I woke up, all I could feel was pain blossoming at the base of my skull. As I got used to the pain, I felt a tender hand brushing the sweat soaked hair off of my forehead. I peeled my eyes open, and as they went into focus I found I was inside of a wooden box, the only sunlight coming in from little gaps between panels. We must have been moving, as I was only slightly aware of the jostling of my head when we hit bumps. The hand was attached to a small orcish girl, still a child. She couldn’t be very old, her tusks were still just nubs peeking out of her lips. It was then I saw her lips moving, the actual words taking longer to get to me.

“Shh are you alright lady? It’s gonna be okay, my papa and uncle are gonna come, I promise. I’m Sheely, and -” her words faded slowly, and I felt myself go unconscious again, her voice luling me out again. 

The next time I wake up is to the screams of the girl being held prisoner with me. I awake abruptly, and while I’m still in pain I move quickly. I see a man is trying to drag her out of the box we are in. She is clawing and fighting him with tears rushing down her face. I do not hesitate, and when I hear men comment about ‘breaking her in’ I let out a cry that has them all on their knees. Blood is running out of all the orifices in their head, like tears coming from their eyes, and a few of them have collapsed. Sheely is unharmed by me and my power does not touch her, which I am thankful for. I grab her and start to run. Everything is blurry for me but I know this is my chance to get us out of this. I don’t want to dwell on the intentions of those men, but I know enough to know we would be better off lost in the wilderness.

 The orc - Sheely is just a child, though, no matter that orcish children are almost as large as a human teenager. She is panicked from the men trying to hurt her, sobs still leaving her despite the running and she catches her ankle on a root. She falls to the ground, but I waste no time in trying to pick her up. I have not known hard labor in my life and orcish children are not easy to carry, though. I feel the panic rising in my chest, and I hold her to me tightly.

 I hear them, then. Some of the men have come after us, and I try to find somewhere to hide the girl. My feet scrape the ground as I try to haul her behind a fallen tree. It is no use, and soon the largest of the men is appearing in front of us. Before I can blink a long whip is wrapped around my arm, bringing us both to the ground. I sing and wail once again but while I can tell he is in pain, it does not stop him. I curse myself now, for ignoring the power I have. If only I had honed it, or practiced more, we could be okay. He backhands me, and I hear a crack.

The pain doesn't knock me out this time, although I wish it had. I am grabbed by the jaw, and I forget all about the pain in my head. Noise leaves me but not enough. and my voice is rendered useless. He glares at me with dark eyes, and all I see is hate in them.

“Are you going to try that again or should I crush your vocal cords too, siren bitch?” Spit flies in my face and I shake my head no to the best of my abilities. He increases his grip on my jaw harder, and if it wasn’t broken before I’m sure it is now. My vision swims with darkness, but I hold on. I won’t leave her alone with them. He lets go and pushes my face away and into the ground. 

“Get the fuck up then,” he tells me, and I obey. 

 We are dragged back to their camp, and I hold onto Sheely. I see several of the men still on the ground before we are thrown back into the wagon. My head hits the wall and I feel the wood splinter into my skin. I manage to position Sheely behind me. I am hopeful that the men are in enough pain to be deterred from their plans with her, but I don’t want to risk not being able to help her if they come back. 

I don’t know how long it has been but I have not had food nor water since I was captured. I had never known this kind of pain, this uncomfortable existence, but I refused to let myself succumb to sleep. Instead I spend my time trying to listen to the men and make sure no one was coming to get us

The words I hear from the men outside all melt together and paint an eerie picture of the life waiting for me. I feel as if I am living in a nightmare and just couldn’t make my screams heard or run fast enough to escape. Scenes play out before my eyes of the ways evil people mean to torture me and throw me away once I am used up. I hear screams and anguished cries, but it all fades into the horror playing behind my eyelids. The screaming dies down into a dark silence, and I can hear Sheely yelling from behind me, apparently awake. 

The last of my strength I spend covering her body with mine, pushing her further into the corner of our dank wooden prison. The door is ripped apart, and the sun has risen. The light blinds me for a moment, but then a large figure blocks it out. I turn my back to the figure and pull Sheely further underneath me. I don’t feel as though I am long for this world in my current condition, and she is so young. I want to give her a chance. 

“Uncle!” I hear Sheely yell this in the back of my mind, and the man yells out for Sheely too. I let go, then. I let go of her, and my will to stay conscious as well. I feel her relief and happy noises all around. I try to soak in her joy as I let go. 

I know enough to know I am not dead. I drift in and out, feeling bumps in the roads and rumbling voices around me. Everything hurts enough that I wish I was dead, though. A wish that refuses to come true, as I am suspended in pain for what feels like an eternity. 

The fog eventually clears and the heavy scent of medicinal steam hangs in the air. The smell is of a healers den, and if I am right then I am relieved. My vision is blurry but I see a shape run into the den, and Sheely’s voice. It’s the sweet voice of a happy and safe child, and I think I manage a smile. I see another shape duck into the tent behind her, as well as a deep voice coming from beside me. A gnarled and old hand comes into vision as well, holding a cloth to my face. The throbbing of my jaw and head is not gone, but muted. I feel bandages wrapped around my arm and feet as well. A small hand takes hold of mine, and when I fall asleep again I feel calm for the first time in days. 

The medicine is strong and leaves me in a daze for a long while, but as I heal they give me less and less, until I am able to understand and remember when people are speaking to me. Ungral, the healer, is a constant companion to me. He explains that Sheely is the much loved daughter of their chief, and I am being honored among the clan. 

“Sheely has painted quite the picture of you to us all, calls you a ‘screeching warrior’” Ungral informs me, his lips upturned in amusement.

“Oh goodness, everyone will be so disappointed when they actually see me. I am no warrior, although I did screech quite a bit.” I jest with him.

“Hush child, no one will be disappointed to see the women who took care of our Sheely,” He sets out food in front of me. It is a thick and meaty stew, and I am in heaven from the smell alone. 

 Sheely visits me everyday before her schooling and often before her bedtime, bringing me snacks and things to do. Her mother and father visited me early in my recovery, but I don’t remember very much. Sheely tells me they are planning a celebration for her return, and that they are waiting until I am recovered since I am an ‘honored guest’. I am grateful for their hospitality, but I feel I have not earned it. All I did was cower with Sheely in a corner while her family saved us both, but I would hate to insult them this way.  

The first day Ungral has me leave the tent to walk is more eventful than I like. The moment I leave the hut, orcs are thanking me and introducing themselves left and right. I am friendly and speak to everyone, but it quickly becomes too much for me. Right before I am going to tell Ungral I need a break, Sheely comes running up to me followed by three other orcs. One of which was a woman, in decorative armor and beads woven into her hair. She grabs my hand with tear filled eyes as Sheely hugs my legs. 

“Thank you for keeping my daughter safe when I couldn’t,” she tells me. My eyes start to fill as well, just looking at her. 

“Of course,” I nod to her, my hands grasping hers back. I am starting to feel dizzy but I dare not disrespect her. One of the orcs with her, the smaller of the two men, comes up to me as well. This is without a doubt the chief. I know little of orcs and their customs, but the beads and armor he wears, as well as the tattoos covering him, seems to indicate this. 

“I am Sheelga’s father, and Chief of this clan,” He tells me, his voice loud and clear. “We are all so thankful for you and that you were able to protect her. You will want for nothing here, nor ever again. Be assured that the men who took you are no longer in this world and as soon as you are fully healed, I will have my best warriors escort you home to your family. If there is anything you need, please, just let us know.” He tells me this, and I am reminded that my family is the one who did this to me. I stutter out a thank you and feel my legs shake. Ungral is by my side quickly, the old man more nimble than I assumed.  

“Leave the girl alone, just because she is stretching her legs doesn’t mean you can all bombard her,” he waves off the chief and his wife, who just chuckle at him. 

“Yes, we will leave you be then. Please, rest and know that you are safe here,” The chief and his wife say goodbye and turn to leave, but Sheely runs into the healing den. Ungral and I follow after her, partially to see what is wrong and partially because my stamina is running too low to do much else. Her parents and the other large orc come into the hut too, and I see Sheely in her usual spot next to the bed with tears running down her cheeks.

Everyone goes over her and when I settle on the bed she hurriedly plasters herself against me. I hold and shush her, and I can make out some words between her broken sobs. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she bawls out, and I immediately start to hold her tighter. 

Her father has crouched next to her, and his large hand is splayed on her back. “She has a family too, my heart, and we cannot keep her from them,” he tells her, but I speak up. 

“I don’t actually. Well, I suppose I do but they’re the ones who sold me to those men,” my voice wavers as all the eyes turn to me, mixed looks of anger and pity look back at me. 

“Then you have to stay here,” Sheely says, her voice firm. I smile at her, but I do not wish to impose on these kind people. 

“Now little one, I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” I try to sound cheery, but it really just comes out sad. 

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say you should stay,” the other orc speaks up, and I no longer argue. He is the largest being I have ever seen, with dark green skin and long black hair in a single shining braid down his back. He has black swirling tattoos covering a great deal of his arms, and his deep brown eyes lock onto mine. His beauty stops the words from leaving my mouth. 

“Yes, brother,” the chief nods at him and turns to me. “You will stay then, it is settled.”

His wife comes to sit by me and I open my mouth but no sounds come out, I just nod and squeeze her hand. 

Not soon after this I start to heal more quickly. I am sure this has something to do with the lack of stress I currently have. I am surrounded by kind people who want to help me, and I get to stay. A large feast is held to not only celebrate that Sheely is back, but also to welcome me to the clan. It is loud and boisterous, and copious amounts of ale are consumed. Balo, the Chief, drinks so much in celebration that his wife Lorka is rolling her eyes at him. He is telling old war stories and spinning his daughter around, taking intermediate breaks to remind Lorka how in love with her he is. When he hears me laugh, though, he sends a large grin my way and starts a toast for me. I am embarrassed, but flattered as they raise their glasses to me. I drink some too, but Ungral warns me not to do much since it could interfere with some of the medicine he has given me. 

Sure enough, I feel the effects of the alcohol much more strongly than I would have thought, so I go outside to get some space from the crowd. I find a pretty tree nearby and stumble my way over to it. I see Sheely’s uncle leave the great feast hall not long after I do. He looks around until he finds me, then struts toward me. 

“Oh, hi! I’m sorry but I don’t think I ever got your name,” I squeak out the words as best I can, hoping I’m not sounding over eager or over drunk. He is large and powerful, and I cannot look away. He makes me feel so small, and it excites something deep within me. My head spins, and I am unsure if it is due to his presence or simply the mead. 

“My given name is Rhugro’bash, but Bash is just fine little songbird,” he nods at me and settles onto a stump next to me. He offers me a smile and hands me a plate stacked high with food. “I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you would still eat.” 

“Thank you, everyone is so friendly but I’m just not used to such big crowds,” I take the food eagerly, moaning at the flavors. I feel spoiled here, with a beautiful orcish man bringing me delicious food. I open my eyes to see Bash staring at me as I eat, and I almost choke at the look on his face. “Sorry, it’s just so good.” 

He throws his head back and lets out a guwaffing laugh. “Well then I am happy to have pleased one as lovely as you.” 

He reaches over and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, and I’m sure he can feel the heat coming off of my face. He stands and leaves quickly after, wishing me a goodnight in his deep rumbling voice. Oh gods, I think to myself, I am going to get myself in trouble with him. 

The next morning I wake up to a large breakfast and a flower set out for me. I ask Ungral about it and he laughs, shaking his head at me.  

“It seems you’ve caught a certain someone’s attention,” the old man gives me a wry smile, apparently amused by my confusion. He sits across from me with his herbal tea, and passes me a note. It says nothing on it but ‘From Bash’, so it does little to clear things up.

“But...why?” 

“The man wants to cook for you,” he shrugs, “wants to see to it you’re fed, and brings a flower? I think you can figure it out,” he chuckles at me then, and leaves me with a meal that was composed of more food than I would be able to eat in days. 

 Bash comes to visit with Sheely later in the day, who hugs me then promptly goes to hang out with Ungral instead. I thank Bash for breakfast and he goes from a warrior to a puppy in an instant. He lights up and breaks out in a breathtaking smile, the gold bands on his tusks shining brightly. The two of us sit down, and he sees the flower sitting next to my bed. I clear my throat, feeling much more nervous in his presence than the night before when I was emboldened by alcohol. 

“I hope it wasn’t too forward of me, songbird. I wasn’t sure how things like this are done where you are from.” He speaks so casually and directly, I am not used to that. 

“What kind of things do you mean?” 

He reaches over and folds my hand in his, his calloused palms brushing against my skin in the sweetest way. “Romantic type things. I want to court you.”  

“Can I ask why?” 

He laughs a bit and schooches his chair closer to me, a playful look on his face. He leans closer to me as he speaks, and his proximity makes my head spin. “You are strong, and brave. I like the way you look when I bring you food, and how beautiful you are. You love Sheely, and were ready to lay down your life for her. I cannot think of better traits for a mate.” 

My mouth is in an “o” shape, and he leans back with a satisfied look on his face. Sheely comes barreling back in and I am grateful for the distraction. 

Bash continues to send food to me, along with little gifts or trinkets. He gives me clothing too, as well as a homemade chest to put everything in. I appreciate it and everything he does makes me feel so special, but I hardly feel as if I deserve it.

 One day he comes to take me for a walk, and I voice this to him.

“I really do enjoy everything you do for me, I just feel like I am undeserving of all of it. You spoil me.” He finds a log to sit on, and pulls me to sit on one of his thighs. My arms wind themselves around his neck with his behind my back. The closeness is so effortless for him, it seems, while I feel my heart is going to pump out of my chest.

“Now don’t go feeling guilty, pretty bird. I like doing things for you.” He frowns at me, and makes everything sound so simple.

“I just feel bad I can’t give you anything in return.”

“You give me plenty,” he scoffs, “you gift me your time.”

You huff and adjust yourself on his knee, turning to face him more. 

“You give me that too though. I want to give you something and yet all I have are things you have gifted me.” I frown at this realization. They have welcomed me in but I’ve really just free-loaded. 

Bash taps a finger to my forehead, startling me out of my thoughts. “I don’t know what’s going on in here, but cut it out. You wanna give me something?” I nod, of course I do. He smiles, almost wicked. “Sing to me, bird. I want to hear it.” 

My eyes grow big. Of all things, I was not expecting this. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he says, playing with my hair with an exaggerated pout on his lips.

“I’ll do it for you, I’m just not used to singing nice things. It’s always been a bit of a defense mechanism.” I try to think back to when I was young and would sing to the birds and the flowers. I think about the feelings I have for Bash, the look in his eye when he sees me and the happiness he brings me. I concentrate and let my abilities take over. It’s natural for me, like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater too long. 

My voice sings of a new life, of a gallant rescue. I sing of new feelings and new family, how much more beautiful life is for me now. I sing of new beginnings, of spring. I let my emotions well up then pour out, and I am unsure how long I sing but when I stop he has tears in his eyes. 

I reach up to wipe them away, noticing how out of it he looks. He has pulled me much closer to him while I was singing and I am thoroughly pressed against him.

He whispers “thank you.” Bash presses his lips to my brow and we stay like this for quite some time. Once we hear crickets chirping he takes me back to Ungral’s.

The courting gifts start to increase and get larger after this encounter. He insists on cooking almost every meal for me, and I try to squash my feelings of being unworthy. I sing to him occasionally too, since he says it’s one of his favorite things. We often have the healers den to ourselves, since Ungral lives in a separate building behind it. I haven’t been to his house yet, as he said he is in the middle of building onto it.

The first time he kisses me, it is while he is cooking for me. I move to the kitchen to peek at what he is making, and he just leans down and pecks me on the lips. He pulls back and looks shocked at his own actions, and I get to see my great warrior flustered. I give him no chance to apologize. I lift up onto my tippy toes and pull him down, slanting my mouth over his. He holds his arms out awkwardly to the side at first, but soon drops the wooden spoon and kisses me back. 

He’s vocal and does not bother to hold in his groans. I pull at him until we are on the cot together, kissing and petting at one another. He moves to my neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses under my ear. The feeling of his tusks brushing against my neck sends chills up my spine. All too suddenly he rips himself off of me, running to the kitchen. The sound of soup boiling over registers and I hop up to help clean up the mess. Bash’s cursing turns into laughter when we look at one another, and I peck his lips again but the heated moment has passed.

I am adamant about giving Bash an actual tangible courting gift, and I ask Ungral about it. 

“It’s not frowned upon, if that’s what you mean,” he tells me, showing me how to blend certain medicines. “Not required either, but after one courts you a while giving a gift back is a way to accept the courting or encourage them that you want it to advance.” 

Winter is around the corner and Bash told me he has a lot to prepare for with his home, so I try to think of something good to get for him today. I talk to Ungral about this too, but it feels odd talking to him about my romantic life. He is more of a father than mine ever was, and I sense it’s a bit awkward for him as well. 

“Take this,” Ungral says, trying to shove a bag of coin in my hand. I push it back at him. 

“What, no! What for?” I ask him, “I already live here for free!”

He gives me a flat look in return “You help me with my work and Bash feeds the both of us with his excessive courting meals. I should still pay you for all the work you help me with. Go buy a courting gift and stop fawning, girl.” He turns around and leaves no room for me to argue. 

I do want to give something nice to Bash so I take it, but I vow to help Ungral even more to feel as though I earned it. I walk along the shops in the center of the village, and one tent catches my eye. Inside are glittering beads, hair ties, and bottles of oils and soaps resting on shelves. Bash’s hair is beautiful, and he knows it, so this would be perfect. I look along the beads and one instantly catches my eye. It’s a pretty blue bead and dangling on it is a bird. It’s absolutely perfect. I go to pay for the bead and the shop owner wraps it up in a nice box for me. I can’t wait to give it to him, and I hate that I have to wait. 

The hours could not go by any slower, but eventually Bash comes by to tell me goodnight. He walks in and kisses me, but I can tell he is tired.

“How was your day songbird?” 

I cannot help to smile in excitement, I probably look crazy to him.

“It was good,” I tell him, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh really? And what may that be?” 

“Sit here and close your eyes! I’ll be right back.” I sit him on the bed and get a sleepy smile in return. I go to get the bead and a snack for him as well. I’m only gone a moment, but when I return he is snoring. My disappointment is fleeting, he looks so sweet like this. I set the box on the table and get to work. I gently peel his shoes off and his more uncomfortable looking clothing as well before tucking him in. The bed is small so I decide to snuggle in, hoping he doesn’t mind the liberty taken. 

Bash is warm, and I find it was one of the best night's sleep I’ve had in awhile. We are tangled together in the morning and he is awake before me. A hand is petting my hair, and I just sigh and shove my face more into his chest.

“Sorry I fell asleep,” he whispers to me, and I have never thought him more attractive than now, with his groggy voice in my ear. 

“Shh, m’still sleepin,” I mumble into his chest, and get a laugh in return. We bask in the moment before I remember how excited I am, so I just roll over and hand him the box, jolting up to give it to him. 

“Open it,” I encourage, and he purposefully goes slowly. 

When he sees it he gasps, and I feel like I’ve done well. I realize why he enjoys doing things for me so much now. His excitement and happiness when he holds it up is my new favorite look for him. He has me braid the bead into his hair, and the blue is a stark contrast to his dark hair. 

“I have something for you as well, my songbird,” Bash gestures to his satchel, and I hand it to him. He digs around, and then presses a key into my hand. It takes a moment for my brain to catch up. I look at the key then back at Bash for a minute before it sinks in. 

“You want me to...live with you?”

“Yes, I can’t think of anything I would want more,” he admits to me.

“I don’t need an answer right away,” he continues, one of his large hands caressing the side of my face. “Just...come by tonight if you decide to, otherwise I will see you in the morning and we can take things as slowly as you wish.” He kisses my stunned face and goes to walk away, apparently nervous for your reaction. 

I grab him before he makes his way out.

“Bash!” I stop him, and pull him down near me. “I’ll see you tonight,” I whisper in his ear, planting a kiss underneath. I can practically feel the chill that runs through him, but I usher him out anyway. I’ve never been to his house before, and wasn’t even sure where to go. I talk to Ungral a bit before I pack up my things. I leave most everything there for now, as my chest and other things are too heavy for me alone. I then go to visit his sister-in-law’s house for a bit of help. 

Later that night I walk up the cobble pathway in nothing but the silk nightdress Lorka has given me. My hair is down, and I feel every bit the siren I have been accused of being. The home is beautiful under the moonlight and the colors seem vibrant bathed in the blue of the night. Fireflies dance over the pond and the stone house is reflected in its depths. I open the heavy door and all the breath leaves my body.

Bash is waiting for me in the home he has built for us in nothing but his loincloth.  He stands proud and tall in front of me. Deep rumbles of desire come from his chest and mix with the sounds of the crackling fire; it is the most beautiful melody I have ever been lucky enough to hear. The fire gives his skin an otherworldly gleam and he looks every part the formidable warrior he is known to be. My formidable warrior, now. I walk toward him as if I am a newborn deer and I fear he can hear my knees knocking together, but one of his hands reaches out to steady me. 

His hand moves up my arm while his other goes around my waist, pulling me against him. His warm skin quells a shaking chill I didn’t know I had, and I let myself melt into him. He has barely touched me and I feel as though I’ve run miles. 

“Let me take you to our bed, my songbird,” he says, and I nod my head. My eyes are wide gazing up at him and Bash smiles down at me. He bends down and lifts me up a bit to close the gap to place a soft kiss on my lips. His tusks brush against my cheeks and I gasp. He suddenly places his hands on my bottom and pulls me up with my legs around him. I squeal out a laugh and the nervousness is broken. 

He gives kisses and raspberries all over my neck and chest as he walks me to the bedroom. I squirm and laugh, and my hand ends up in Bash’s hair. I give it a tug and am rewarded with a playful growl as he tosses me onto the bed. The bed he has crafted is beautiful, and I am once again lost in his duality. He is a powerful warrior who can wield his warhammer like no other, and yet he created and carved the delicate wooden features adorning our headboard. He seems hard on the outside, so intimidating and yet he kisses me so softly. 

He climbs up with me and pulls my legs on either side of his hips, perched up on his knees. My hand splays across his stomach and I feel the muscle there, covered in a layer of softness that makes me find him all the more appealing. I gawk at him, tracing the tattoos and scared planes of his body. 

“See something you like?” His large hands run over my thighs, the fingertips dipping under my nightdress on each pass.

“I see a lot I like,” I quietly admit,  finally lifting my gaze to meet his. A pleased sound leaves him. He kisses me and pulls me even closer, so much so that the heat between my thighs settles on his manhood. I can’t help but grind myself into him. 

“I want to make you sing for me,” He tells me, and he slinks down the bed. I push myself up onto my elbows and watch his broad shoulders push apart my thighs. I can feel a deep throbbing in my core, and I gasp when his fingers trace the lines of my underclothes. His other hand moves upward and settles on my stomach before he pulls my underwear aside. 

His warm breath washes over me, and he places the gentlest of kisses around the apex of my thighs before licking a broad stripe along my folds. I fall back onto the bed writhing , my hands digging into the sheets. He starts to lick and kiss at my clit, and a strong finger finds its way to my entrance. My back arches and a moan leaves me at the pleasure he is giving. His other hand wanders up the bed to meet one of mine, untangling my fingers that were clutching the sheets. As his finger pumps into me in time with his mouth moving on my clit I cannot hold in my noises. 

“Bash, please,” I moan out to him, unsure what I am asking him for. His answering rumble vibrates through me and his tusks start to dig into my soft flesh. He adds another finger and I feel myself quickly tighten around them. The crooking of his fingers and the pressure on my clit increases and a knot builds in my stomach. The noises leaving me increase as well, but everything quiets the moment that I find my release. Fireworks go off behind my eyes, my legs tighten around his head and my hips jerk. He sounds like a man feasting, grunts and groans leaving his mouth. He does not relent until I am jerking away from the stimulation with a whimper, the ecstasy too much. 

“Bash, c’mere,” I pull at his shoulders, my request coming out a breathless whine. When he looks up at me he is debauched. His eyes are full of desire and my wetness covers his mouth and chin. As he moves up my body, he pulls my underclothes off of me as well. 

“Did you enjoy me, my songbird?” He inquires, laying kisses up my arm as sparks continue to dance on my skin. I give a breathy yes in response to him. I reach my hands out to pull him down over me, and his arousal is evident as it presses into my stomach. I arch into it and my desire is reborn. I reach down and run my fingers along his shaft over the loincloth still covering him. I pull at the edges of the cloth and it falls down, releasing his heavy cock. 

I feel my mouth water at the sight of it. It hangs beneath its own weight, and I bring my hand up to hold it. The hot flesh pulses in my hand, and I feel my entrance pulse in answer. It’s an even darker green than the rest of him, and more tattoos swirl near the base of it. Fluid leaks out of the tip, and I run my fingers over it, coating the head. When I look back at Bash’s face, I am not disappointed. His eyebrows are knitted together and his eyes are dark with want. I hold his gaze and give a tentative stroke, letting his hips jerk into my hand. My other hand comes up to caress his heavy sack, gently massaging him in time with the strokes. 

“Fuck, I’m going to come from your hands alone if you don’t stop that, woman,” he snarls out, but I only slow down my efforts.

“Don’t you want to?” I ask him sweetly, leaning up to kiss his neck. 

“Minx,” he scolds me in good nature, then leans down to snarl darkly in my ear. “I want to feel you come around my cock when I release. I want to fill you up so much you leak my seed for days, and any Orc who comes near you will smell my claim on you.”

His words alone cause a whimper to leave my mouth. “Please,” I breath out, wanting nothing more than for that to come true. He strips me of my nightdress, and I take his hands in mine and pull him back with me on the bed, curling one of my legs over his hip. His cock runs through my folds, my wetness coating him, before he notches the head at my entrance. He sucks and licks at my tits before smoothly thrusting into me, my nails coming up to dig into his back. My cunt is tightly wrapped around him, every vein of his cock pulsing inside me. He is so much bigger than me in every way, and I’m surprised he fits inside of me without pain. The stretch is uncomfortable at first, but soon fades as my pleasure crests. 

“Look how well you take me, songbird. Will you sing to me again?”  He punctuates this with a hard thrust, and I let out a long moan. I feel my power imbed itself into my voice, but I cannot help it. Tendrils of my magic reach out and touch him, caressing his skin and coaxing out more desire with my noises. His movements speed up, and I hear grunts leave him. Bash brings his face to my chest, growling into it. Pleasure builds in me again, and as I wail out my climax Bash follows me. He buries himself deep within me and pumps me full of his seed as he promised, his hands holding tight to my sides. 

Fucked out mewls escape my lips and Bash coos down at me, praises passing through his lips. He gently rolls off of me and lays beside me. 

“You’ve conquered me, my songbird. I don’t think I can feel my legs,” he teases, petting me sweetly as I come down from my high. He manages to clean us up before he throws blankets over us both. As I’m drifting off, I feel a kiss to my forehead and Bash mumbles to me.

“I can’t wait to cook for you in the morning, my love.” 

[lacontroller1991]

Jealous Much? (Negan x OFC)

Requested by @negans-attagirl​ :After his imprisonment at Alexandria, he is free and alone until he meets OC (in her twenties) and actually saves him from a herd/ he starts to follow her, being a sassy daddy as always and flirts with her but she resists a long time. They meet another survivor (More in oc age) and negan gets jealous and mad. They get lead into an ambush by the new guy, are able to escape and maybe in the heat of the moment the smut happens.

Warnings: Smut 18+ oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, cream pie, language

Author’s note: I am so sorry it’s super conversation heavy but I promise the smut won't be 😊

@negans-attagirl​ @not-too-tall-for-trick​

Jess could hear them before she saw them, their groans echoing through the forrest. Climbing up a tree, she looked through the herd, seeing what could’ve gotten them riled up. Raising her binoculars up to her face, she saw a man in the middle, bashing walker’s heads with a metal pipe, although he was getting quickly outnumbered.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself, jumping down from the tree and rushing to the guy’s aid. Drawing out her sword, she was quick to live the walkers’ heads, blood splattering against her face. The guy looked at her for a split second before returning to kill them. After the herd was dead, Jess looked at the guy.

“Hell were you thinking?” She asked, panting and wiping the blood from her blade.

“That’s no way to talk to a stranger,” he replied, “the name’s Negan.”

“The name’s I don’t care,” she spat out, walking away and leaving him alone.

“Hey! What are you doing out here?” Negan asked, tailing Jess.

“Survivin’.”

“By yourself? Surely there's a man with you,” he stated but was immediately pushed against a tree with a blade to his throat.

“I don't need a man,” pulling away the knife, Jess stared into his eyes.

“I don't have no where to go.”

“Not my problem.”

“Can I stay here with you? I can help out with whatever you need,” Negan begged as she pulled her brown hair back.

“What I need is for you to leave me alone.”

“Come on babe, don’t be like.”

“I’m not your babe.”

“But you could be,” and truth be told, Jess wasn't completely opposed to the idea. It's been a while since she’s seen a human, and even longer since she’s had physical touch, but she knew. Everyone dies.

“Fine, but I live in the woods,” she mentioned as he nodded following her closely.

“You know, you remind me of someone.”

“Who?”

“Guy name Daryl. Quiet, tempered, doesn’t take bullshit.”

“Crossbow guy?” Jess asked as Negan nodded.

“Yeah, he's an asshole,” he chuckled as she smirked.

“I know. Was with them back in Atlanta, they were too chaotic.”

“That they are. ‘Specially Rick. Made my life a living hell.”

“They have good intentions, just wrong way of going about it.”

“Very wrong, cost me my life,” he replied as she nodded her head, eyeing a deer. Shushing Negan, Jess slowly crept up to the deer, aiming her bow and releasing an arrow, killing the deer.

“Wanna skin it?” She asked him as he shook his head. Shrugging, she plunger her knife into the deer, spilling out its guts.

“That’s disgusting as shit,” he stated as she let out a chuckle before looking up at him.

“Never done this?”

“I had people for it,” looking down at her, he noticed a small smile that radiated her face.

“Well, it’s dinner for the next couple of days.”

She hated to admit it, but Negan had actually grown on her, never failing to make her smile. She had to constantly remind herself that she could not get attached to him. Not now. As they were walking around, staying out of sight, their attention was quickly grabbed by a cry for help. Jess was quick to rush to the aid until an arm held her back.

“We don't know who that pussy is,” he spoke softly as she looked at him and smacked his arm, “what?”

“I seem to recall saving your ass.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t screaming like a pansy,” she chuckled before running to help the person. Slicing through walkers, she looked down at the guy who seemed to be her age. He had a strong jawline with curly brown hair and green eyes. Offering him a hand, she pulled him up as she dusted himself off.

“Thanks, I could’ve sworn I was about to die,” he mentioned with a smile that Negan could see right through.

“You have a camp?” Negan asked before Jess could say anything.

“I did, got over run by moaners,” he replied, Negan wasn’t buying it but Jess was.

“What's your name?” She asked softly as the guy gave her a smile.

“Jack,” he replied as Negan leaned over into her ear.

“Something isn’t sitting right with me,” he whispered as she shot him a glare.

“Nothing sits right with you.”

“You do,” winking at her, he pulled out a gun he found and pointed it at Jack.

“Woah buddy.”

“Negan!”

“We can’t trust him.”

“I trusted you,” she retorted as he sighed, lowering the gun but never taking his eyes off of the guy.

“He your dad?” Jack asked as Jess laughed, shaking her head.

“Nah, just a stray.”

“Ouch, that hurts,” Negan stated as looked between the two of them.

“Oh hush,” Jess directed at Negan before turning her head back to Jack, “how about you come with us? We have food and water.”

“I’d like that.”

As the weeks passed, Negan was growing antsy. Missing the way that she used to be his and only his, though never officially. He cringed whenever Jess and Jack would flirt with each other, giving each other small touches and lingering stares. What Negan didn’t know was that Jess was just trying to make Negan jealous. He made her feel things she never thought she would feel again in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. For all she knew, it wasn’t working. But it was. She was coming back from a hunt with Jack when Negan pulled her to the side, glaring down at Jack before he got the hint and scurried off to leave the two of them to talk.

“What are you doing?” She asked harshly as he gave her a disappointed look.

“Jess, I get that you’re trying to help this asshole, but doesn’t something feel off to you?” He reasoned with her while she pondered in thought, trying to think of all the times her and Jack had talked.

“Are you jealous, Negan?” She questioned with a smirk as he groaned and shook his head.

“No, something isn’t right.”

“You’re just paranoid,” she stated as he stared at her.

“You’re not listening to me. He’s dangerous, I know his type.”

“Get over it, he’s staying.”

“Whatever, I need to take a walk,” he mentioned, throwing his hands up in the air as he walked away from camp. She didn’t notice that Jack had snuck up from behind her until he spoke.

“Everything okay?” He asked as she shook her head.

“He’s just being difficult. He’s normally not like this.”

“Come with me, I know a place to clear your head,” Jack replied as she looked at him with concern.

“I don’t know, we need to skin these rabbits before they go bad.”

���Come one, it’ll be fun!” He begged as she let out a smile before agreeing, allowing him to lead her deep into the woods.

It was not fun. Her head pounded as blood flowed down her temple, looking around the underground cell, trying to find an escape. After finding none, she kicked the mattress that they had supplied for her.

“Fuck,” she shouted out in frustration before sinking to the floor, running her hands through her hair. She didn’t remember anything after Jack had led her into the woods and knocked her out. She had no clue where she was nor how she got there. One thing she did know for sure. Negan was right. Slowly, she let her eyes drift close, falling into a dreamless sleep.

She was awoken by the cell door opening. Expecting it to be Jack or one of his companions, she immediately cowered away from the door but a pair of arms wrapped around her in comfort.

“Negan?” She asked, voice cracking from being dehydrated and tired.

“Let’s get you outta here baby doll,” he whispered, picking her up in his arms and carrying her out of the cell.

“How are we gonna get out?”

“I killed them. Once I figured out what happened, I tracked you to here and killed them. They’ll probably be turning any minute now so we gotta move.”

“You were right,” he looked down at her and moved a strand of hair out of her face before kissing her temple.

“It's okay, let’s just go.” Running through the woods with you in his arms, he looked around to make sure no walkers were following them before setting you down in a cave that he had found while tracking you. It would have to do for the night. Removing his jacket, he immediately wrapped it around her as she shook from shock and the cold. 

The air was tense around the pair, Negan desperately wanting to brag about being right and Jess in shame for not listening to him.

“How did you know about him?” She asked cautiously as he handed her a canteen.

“It takes one to know one. I’ve seen many people like him so I just figured, plus he’s strong, if he couldn’t take care of 10 walkers by himself then something must’ve been up.”

“I should’ve listened. I’m sorry,” shuffling closer to him, she leaned her head on his shoulder as he let out a sigh.

“Don’t be. You didn't know,” he commented, wrapping his arm around her smaller frame, pulling her in closer for heat. She looked up at him with a small smile before placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you.”

“Well shit, if I had known saving a pretty thing like yourself would’ve gotten me a kiss, I would do it a thousand times over,” he stated as she let out a snort before shrugging his jacket and arm off, straddling his lap, her face being illuminated by the soft glow of the fire place.

“I was flirting with him to make you jealous,” admitting to her little secret, he looked up at her with a smile.

“It worked.” Crashing his lips to hers, his arms immediately wrapped around her waist as she deepened the kiss, placing her hands on his cheeks, running her hands through his stubble. Pulling away, they gasped for air while Jess’s hands moved to her shirt. Tugging at the hem, she quickly pulled the shirt over her head, leaving her in a bra.

“Are we doing this now? Because I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this,” he whispered as she smiled down, reaching back to unclasp her bra. 

“Shut up and make me feel good,” she commanded as he gave a mock salute, turning them over and running kisses down her jawline and onto her chest, leaving open mouthed kisses along her breasts. She arched her back into his touch, needing to feel more, and judging by the growing bulge in his pants, she knew he needed more too. Moving his mouth to her nipple, he swirled the bud around his mouth as she released a moan, clutching her hands in his hair, tugging at the slightly greying strands that reached the back of his neck. He moved off of her before trailing kisses down to her waistband and looked up at her. With a nod in confirmation, her skin shivered with anticipation as he undid the buckle and button. Pulling down her pants, he took a moment to admire the view of her panties soaked with her arousal.

“All that for me baby?”

“Negan, please,” she moaned as he smirked, removing the pants before placing a kiss on her covered clit. He groaned when he could taste her wetness through her underwear. Moving her underwear to the side, he laid his tongue flat against her folds as she gasped out loudly. Moving his tongue up and down, he collected her wetness before stopping and removing her panties. Going back down, he placed his mouth on her clit and began sucking on the bundle of nerves, swirling it around his tongue as he entered a finger inside of her, causing her to start panting heavily.

Adding another finger, he began pumping them in and out, fingers wet with her juices. Curling them inside of her, he continue to lap up her clit as her hands found their way back to his hair, messing up his neat hairdo, not that he minded. Groaning against her, he could feel the ache in his pants getting more painful with all of her sounds he was eliciting. Suddenly, he blew on her clit and flicked it with his other hand and he could tell she was getting close by the way her walls were starting to constrict around his fingers.

“Cum for me baby,” he commanded, pulling at her sensitive spot before she let out a shout and came over his hand. Coaxing her through it, he saw her smile down at him, a thin layer of sweat forming against her body. Pulling his fingers out, he licked them, letting out a moan before moving down to his tent and rubbed his dick, trying to release some pressure.

“Oh God, Negan. I need you.”

“Say less,” he chuckled, moving his hands to unbutton his pants and pushing them down. Grabbing her hips, he moved her up to his lap, rubbing his dick against her wet folds.

“You ready?” Nodding her head, he gently pushed his tip in, both of them groaning at the sensation before he pushed in farther, giving her some time to adjust to his size.

“You can move,” she stated, relishing in the feeling of him completely filling her out, causing her walls to stretch around him. He pulled out before slamming back into her as she moaned, moving up so that she was now on top of him. 

“God baby, you’re sexy as fuck,” he groaned out as he clutched her hips in his hands, pushing her down onto him. She clutched onto his shoulders as he thrusted up into her. He watched the way her boobs bounced with each thrust and with each thrust he was getting closer as was she. Moving her off of him, he laid her down and wrapped her left on his waist while the other went on his shoulder, allowing him a different access angle that had them both panting messes. Pivoting his hips, he thrusted back in, hitting her g-spot. 

“Harder,” it was barely a whisper but it was loud enough for him to hear as he continued snapping his hips against hers, creating a friction against her clit. Reaching down, her hand gently touched her clit and rubbed it harshly, trying to reach her orgasm. 

“Negan, I’m close,” he understood those words perfectly clear as his thrusts became more erratic, trying to help her reach her high. Her eyes closed in bliss as her walls clamped down on his cock, coming over it. His hands went to her breasts and grabbed them, not slowing down as he was near the end. 

“Cum inside of me.”

“Ya sure babydoll?”

“Oh my God, yes, please, yes.” Pumping into her a few more times he released his load with a loud groan. He looked down and saw his cum to start dripping out of her. He swore he could come again at the sight. Pulling out of her, he continued to watch the way her pussy pulsed out his cum before collapsing next to her and taking her hand in his, gently kissing her knuckles.

“That was fun,” she commented, trying to catch her breath as he looked over at her.

“Much needed and waited.”

“Tell me Negan, have you thought about fucking me this whole time?”

“Every fucking night,” he admitted, thinking back to all of the nights he had to sneak off to relieve himself. 

“Good, because this is not done.”

“Wouldn’t count on it baby girl.”

Author’s Note: AHHH. HOPE YOU ENJOYED

[marvel-ousfairy]

“Flesh eating plants, are you kidding me???” NALU Oneshot

Author’s Note: Ummm... So I don’t normally post my own writings, but I wrote this literally years ago and figured it was about time I posted it. Better late then never, right? *Chuckles nervously* Anyways, there are a few plot holes and things but I’m honestly too lazy to change it sooo, here you go! Let me know what y’all think. (Also I appologize in advance for any wierd formatting issues. I blame Tumblr.)

Warnings: Fighting, angst with a fluffy ending, killer plants? idk what else to put haha. If you read it and think there are any other warnings I should add, please please let me know.

Pairing(s): NaLu

_____

“Open, Gate of the Golden Bull: Taurus!” Lucy Heartfilia shouted, summoning the celestial spirit to her side.

“Mooo! It’s nice to see you again, Miss Luuucy.” Her celestial spirit, Taurus, drawled as the golden light of Lucy’s magic dissipated.

A large crash echoed through the forest near Magnolia as Lucy dove to avoid getting hit by a thick plant root, only a gaping hole left of the earth where she previously stood.

“Not the time,” Lucy panted before struggling to her feet again. “I need you to get in there and snap those vines!” she directed.

Celestial Wizard Lucy Heartfilia, her partner Fire Dragon Slayer Natsu Dragneel, and their cat companion, Happy, had taken a simple job helping out a local farmer. The request had asked for a few wizards to come assist in the extermination of the vermin rampaging through the owner’s crops.

“Stop pouting,” she said as the trio walked through town towards the agricultural district. “At least you get to beat something up.” She smiled, glancing around at the fruit and vegetable stalls lining the streets.

The pink haired wizard crossed his arms before letting out an offended huff. “I’m a dragon slayer, not an exterminator.” He whined.

The blonde let out a giggle, ignoring his petulant child act. Her laughter didn’t last long, however. Upon their arrival at the little farm, the trio soon realized that things weren’t as they appeared. Much to Lucy’s horror and Natsu’s delight, the vermin that needed bashing turned out to be full-fledged, plant-based monsters.

“’Let’s do it’ I said. ‘This will be easy’ I said. How does a Venus Flytrap even grow this large?” Lucy grumbled as she jumped over another stream of murderous plant roots. Finally finding solid ground, she pointed Taurus towards the twisted nether of roots and stems that kept the frightening flora grounded. Meanwhile, Natsu busied himself with torching the other five or so reanimated plants that littered the forests edge.

“Fire Dragon: Roar!” He let out a manic laugh as his flames transformed an entire line of trees into glittering torches, burning friend and foe indiscriminately.  

“Natsu, watch where you’re aiming,” Lucy scolded, letting loose a disgruntled shout as she once again narrowly missed a blow to the side via killer plants. The self-proclaimed farmer, apparently, was a wizard himself who specialized in foreign herbs with magical properties. Their current foes were the result of his latest creations gone very wrong.

“We already owe a great deal in repair costs as it is. The master will kill us if we burn down another building,” she reminded him, hand on her hip.

“Yeah, Yeah.” Natsu shrugged as he incinerated yet another row of trees and crops.  “Stop with your naggin’ already. We’ll be fi– Hey Lucy, watch out!” The dragon slayer let out a roar as Lucy whipped around. A faint gasp swept past her lips as a verdant blur crossed her vision. Pain ricocheted down her left side as a stray vine from the Flytrap knocked her to the ground, tangling with her legs and whipping her towards the Venus’ awaiting jaws.

“Argh,” Natsu screamed, face contorted in anger. “Fire Dragon: Wing Attack!” The vines that dug at her skin, slowly encroaching upon her torso, were suddenly engulfed in flame and burnt to a crisp. She yelped as Natsu’s flames left her stranded in the open air. With nothing left to catch her fall, she plummeted back down to the rigid ground, her head smacking against the dirt with a harsh crack. A muffled yowl came from beneath her and she rolled over to find a disgruntled Happy scowling back at her.

“You alright, Luce?” Natsu questioned, finishing off the last of the nasty creatures.

“I’m the one in pain,” Happy cried, indignantly. “Lucy squashed me with her fat butt!”

“WATCH IT, CAT!” she screeched at the little blue exceed, the pain from her fall quickly washed into the foreground.

Natsu cackled, causing the celestial spirit mage to turn her glare on him. Noticing the change in atmosphere, he yelped as a certain red-haired wizard came to mind.

“Scary,” he whined. Lucy’s scowl deepened before gifting him with another one of her signature Lucy Kicks.

“Humph,” she muttered, smiling in satisfaction. “Serves you right.”

_____

Later, at the Fairy Tail guildhall, the pair found themselves curled around the bar. Mira wiped down the counters, glancing at the two while she worked. Lucy sat on Natsu’s left with reequip mage Erza Scarlet on his right. Gajeel, Levy, and Pantherlily were located at a table behind him, while Gray was doing his best to avoid an overly exuberant Juvia. Happy had disappeared soon after their arrival back at the guild, dreams of fish and a particular white feline dancing in his head. An overall jubilant air had settled on the guild as members had returned from their missions to settle in for the day.

Lucy leaned against the bar, head spinning, with a strawberry concoction clutched between her palms. A dull ache had settled into her bones since their mission earlier, winding around her mind like a snake. A slight burning sensation danced along her side as a pair of onyx eyes watched her with intensity.

“I’m fine,” she said with a huff, not bothering to turn towards the dragon slayer gazing at her worriedly.

“Lucy, I–”

“Really, Natsu, I’m alright.”

Natsu grumbled, unconvinced, as he finished off the plate of food Mira had set before him. He knew Lucy was lying, but he also knew that she could be just as pigheaded as him. She had been acting strange ever since their return from their earlier expedition. Despite her claims otherwise, he could tell something was up.

Lucy stood up abruptly, letting out a heavy sigh, before turning towards Natsu once more. Ignoring the stars that threatened to consume her vision, she forced a wide smile onto her lips. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be okay. I think I’m just gonna head home and get some rest. The fight today really took it out of me. Thanks for the drink, Mira.”

She gave one more wave to the white-haired woman before making her way towards the entrance. Before he could make any move to stop Lucy’s departure, Erza placed an armor clad hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Natsu,” the red-haired warrior assured him. “She can take care of herself.”

He simply nodded, giving Lucy another intense stare before promptly getting knocked off of his barstool by a half-naked Gray. Mira giggled as Natsu let out an enraged scream. Apparently, Juvia had finally caught up to her beloved Gray.  

“What the heck was that for, you pervert?”  Natsu yelled as he quickly shifted into battle-mode, fists blazing with fire.

“Who you callin’ pervert, flame for brains?” Gray challenged.

Soon after, a fight broke out between the two, eventually expanding into a guild-wide brawl after another slice of Erza’s strawberry cake was destroyed. Lucy, who had been watching from the towering guild doors, shook her head. She let out a yelp as a chair smashed against the wall to her left, before finally disappearing out the door and into the streets of Magnolia.  

 Despite a slight limp in her step and pain in her side, the walk home wasn’t as bad as she’d first expected it to be. It wasn’t long before she was weaving her way past the ferrymen and stumbling into her apartment with a heavy sigh.

“Home at last,” she hummed to herself. She stretched out her limbs, cringing as her ankle buckled a bit in pain, before making her way toward the bathroom. “Maybe a shower will help wash off the pain from today,” she mused, ridding herself of her blood-stained clothes. With steam flooding the little room and the water temperature set on high, she stepped carefully into the scalding water. A shaky breath escaped her lips, but her mind continued to spin at a rapid fire pace. Groaning in frustration, she tried for another calming breath. Despite her chance to finally relax a bit, she couldn’t manage to quiet her mind. It had already been a long day, now made even longer by the pain that constricted her mind and body. A glance towards her numerous bruises sent a frustrated sigh past her lips, before her features contorted in confusion. A second glance down at her body caused her gaze to quickly slip from confusion to fear. Thin green lines painted swirls and complex designs across her torso, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The vines, she thought. They don’t just feed off human flesh… “They steal magic power!” She shouted, mentally kicking herself for forgetting the farmer’s warnings. He’d told them that this was a possibility.

Her hands shook as she slowly grew more and more hysterical, tearing frantically at the small vines cutting at her body. Just as she made some headway clearing the thin vines, however, the dizziness from before threatened to overtake her. She reached for her keys, only to find them rendered useless. My magic power is too far gone, she cursed. “Loke, Virgo, someone please!” She cried out desperately. They can’t hear me, she sobbed. A single step towards the bathroom door sent her vision shaking. By two steps, the light in the room began to dance. By the third, Lucy could feel herself losing her will to stand. By the forth, she found herself hitting the ground as the ceiling grew further and further away. “Natsu…” She whispered as vines tangle around her mouth. Her vision slipped away as she soon felt herself get swallowed whole by a cocoon of roots and vines, before she finally lost consciousness altogether.

______

Back at the guild hall, things had finally settled down. Luckily, the aftermath of the brawl had been minimal. A few burnt spots, some broken tables and chairs, and a few missing pillars. The building, by some miracle, still stood proudly in the heart of town.

“Where’s Lucy?” Natsu asked, having finally cooled down from his fight with Gray.

“Oh. Lucy? She went home a little bit ago.” Mira said, smiling sweetly from behind the bar.

“You even watched her go, you idiot.” Gray said with a laugh. Natsu shot the Ice mage a scowl.

“He loooooves her.” Happy drawled from his place next to Charle on the bar top.

Natsu reddened in embarrassment, brushing salmon strands out of his face. The dragon slayer stiffened as a ball of anxiety settled into his stomach. His nose twitched as he took in the stale undertones in the air, confirming some unknown fears. He could be wrong, but he knew Lucy. He knew her scent and how it changed depending on her mood. Right now, the thick smell of fear curdled his blood. Something was wrong.  

With one last vengeful fireball to Gray’s face, he ran off towards Lucy’s apartment with the blue exceed following close behind. Fellow mages and townsfolk cried out in protest as he pushed by them, but Natsu didn’t notice. Blood pumped in his ears, matching his racing footsteps as he hurtled himself down the stone streets. As Lucy’s apartment came into view he pushed his legs faster, using his fire to boost himself through her window in a single bound.

Once safely inside, the first thing he noticed was the silence. Despite the distinct sound of a shower in the background, the stillness hung like a thick fog in the air, suffocating him.  Steam seeped from beneath the bathroom door as he flung it open to reveal a horrific jungle. Vines grew up and off the walls, roots digging out of cracks in the floor.  Leafy plants twisted in midair like worms burrowing through the dirt, dragging curious fingers along his face and down his legs. “Lucy!” Natsu shouted, digging through twists and snarls in the vines. “Lucy!” No answer. Frantic, he set his body ablaze, burning down every vine he could get his hands on. The twisted nether of green squealed and screeched, cutting at his arms and face as every vine soon turned to ash. Finally, there was nothing left but a pale sleeping beauty curled up on the scorched and broken tile.

“Lucy…” his voice was barely a whisper as he pulled the blonde into his arms, swaddling her in a nearby towel. Ashen vines were like cobwebs arching across her ghostly pale skin, her fingers tinged blue as if frost bitten. Even her hair seemed somehow drained of life, as the last of her magical energy seemed to fall dangerously low.

“Nat-su,” a shuddering gasp swept past her grey, cracked lips. “Help m-me… S-so c-cold…” Her words came out in little puffs as her eyes fluttered open, straining to gaze up at his face.

“Lucy. Lucy, look at me. I – I’m here. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He hugged her into his chest, his tears melting into sobs as the smell of strawberries and vanilla wrapped around him. Desperately, he looked around the small apartment before his eyes settled on his blue companion, standing wide-eyed at the door.

“Get Wendy!” He cried out to the little exceed.

“Natsu?” His little eyes rounded with horror.

“NOW, HAPPY!”

“A-Aye, sir!” Happy jumped up and gave him a determined nod before soaring back out the open window from whence they’d come.

A shaky hand grasped onto his scarf, pulling his gaze back down to Lucy’s shaking form.  She curled like a sunflower into his warmth before letting out a shuttering gasp.

“Don’t leave me,” she wheezed. Every note grated against his ears, her normally melodic voice cracked and broken. Regret settled like a stone in his stomach as he cradled her closer to his chest.    “Never,” he whispered.

A soft kiss warmed her clammy skin, flowering across her cheek, as exhaustion finally pulled her into a deep, restless sleep.

______

Warm hands wrapped around her as the smell of wood smoke and cinnamon swirled through the air. She knew that scent. It meant safety, warmth. It meant home.

A slow smile stretched across her lips as her eyes fluttered open to see a chiseled chest and strong arms holding her close. A quick blink shot her eyes upward, only for them to be met with slightly parted lips. As her eyes roamed over the curved planes of his jaw, the slightly parted lips morphed gradually until she was met with a wide, toothy grin. One more shift left her breathless, as she tumbled deep into the depths of his obsidian gaze.

“Natsu –” she stammered.

“Welcome back.” He pulled her closer, resting his forehead onto hers before finally releasing a heavy sigh of relief.

All the pain that had previously ensnared her was gone without a trace. The telltale signs of the guildhall infirmary told her that she had Wendy’s sky magic to thank for that. The warmth that flooded her senses, however, was thanks to her one and only favorite dragon slayer. Although, she doubted it was his naturally higher body temperature that caused warmth to flood her cheeks. Curious eyes peered up at him as his eyes danced behind hooded eyelids. Her very presence seemed to melt him, soften his normally sharp edges.

“Natsu?” She questioned as his face lowered towards hers, their noses brushing together.

“Hmm?” he hummed a response, not quite focusing on her words.

“I –” she began, her words causing their lips to brush. Fire raced through her veins at the sudden touch. A gasp escaped her as their lips finally connected, the sound muffled by the gentle caress of his lips on hers. She felt the fire that raced through him swirling just beneath the skin, held back by an unseen floodgate. He nipped playfully at her bottom lip as their lips danced together in perfect harmony. Abandoning its previous position around her legs, his right hand slid up her side to cup her face while his left hand snaked around her waist, tugging her closer still to his chest. Trails of fire blazed across her skin wherever his fingers danced, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. Her delicate fingers dug into his silky salmon locks as all of their raw emotions were poured out, left open and vulnerable for the other to see. Their kiss grew desperate as the spicy taste of cinnamon filled her senses, causing her toes to curl and her fingers to tug harder at his cotton candy locks. With one last shuddering breath Natsu pulled away, studying her rosy cheeks and her chocolaty brown eyes alight with joy and complete contentment. A deep, throaty chuckle escaped his lips, vibrating against her chest, as he took in her dopey smile. Swollen red lips downturned into a pout, enticing him into another sweet kiss upon her lips, before her dopey grin returned with renewed vigor and her laughter intertwined with his. Lucy gazed sleepily up at Natsu as he mindlessly spun her golden locks through his fingers, a gentle lullaby to her tired mind.

“I –” she began slowly.

“She loooooves him!” came a teasing voice, followed by fits of laughter and giggles. Lucy’s eyes widened, taking in the audience staring at them from the doorway. Spotting the culprit for the interruption, her eyes narrowed on a certain blue exceed hidden in the crowd.

“SHUT IT, CAT!” She screeched as Natsu’s chuckles rolled into cackles, his body shaking as his face twisted with laughter. Lucy burrowed into his scaly white scarf, groans mixing with laughter as she took in a beautiful, terrifying truth. Happy was right about her and Natsu. She really did looooove him, and the adoration he showered down upon her told the mage that he really did looooove her, too.

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 8!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

“I need you to call your father, Wayne,” Ivy hissed, hand over the slowly growing red spot on her side. “And tell him that Scarecrow and his thugs have decided to trash up my gardens.” She spat the words furiously for someone who was starting to look paler than the Joker’s clown makeup. “Get your date out of here while you can.”

From the crashing sound behind Ivy, that wasn’t possible.

“Miss,” Marinette moved forward. “Let Damian call for help. You need medical attention.”

Ivy just laughed at that, wincing. “Yeah.”

Damian’s hands had been on his phone since Ivy showed up, dialing Alfred’s number and letting the call roll, knowing that he would hear everything and send whoever could help. He should be getting away from them, trying to change so Robin could come help-

Marinette’s eyes just narrowed. “You’re bleeding out.” With much more force than Damian thought she could exert with her tiny frame, she pulled Ivy forward, down to the bench, and then started tearing away the edges of the shirt that was soaked with red. “Damian. Call for help.”

He made a show of pulling the phone out, pretended to dial, and then held it up. Alfred spoke up.

“Master Bruce is already on his way. Masters Jason and Tim as well.”

“Alfred,” he said, playacting it out. “Something is going on at the gardens. Pam’s been shot and said that it’s Scarecrow.”

“ETA seven minutes, Master Damian. Apologies that this disrupted your date.”

Said ‘date’ was ripping the hem of her own dress into strips, while helping Ivy maintain pressure on the wound, then winding the bandages around her with a precision that spoke to past experience.

“Thank you, Alfred. We’ll sit tight, and try to stay out of sight.”

He didn’t end the call. It was far better to have the line open in case anything else went down.

“That’s as much as I can do,” Marinette said, face set in determination. “Is there anyway we can get you out and to some actual medical personnel?”

Ivy made a face. “You’ve done plenty, kid. I’ll probably be just fine.”

“You’ve been shot!” Marinette’s voice went high with outrage.

“Looky here,” a voice from the door called out.

Damian faced the idiot. Hulking figure, gun-toting. Typical.

“We got a Wayne, a girl, and Ivy, holed up in the back,” he spoke into an earpiece. “The three of you are coming with me.”

“Monsieur,” Marinette spoke up coldly. “This woman is shot, still bleeding. I will not allow you to move her.”

With a feeling like ice water down his back, he realized he couldn’t actually leave. This girl wouldn’t last face to face with a goon, let alone Scarecrow. Damian stood beside her. “Marinette, these men are dangerous. Don’t antagonize them.”

“Listen to the boy, sweetheart,” the man growled, getting up close in her face. “Now, you and Wayne are gonna help her up, and bring her to the front. If she passes out or dies, I guess you drag the body. Understood?”

Damian can feel it right before she decides to do something, and he tries to move before it happens to preempt whatever retaliation for her snark is incoming.

And then without words, she drives one hand up into his face, her knee into his crotch, and uses his doubling over to sweep his legs out from under him. With one swift movement, she pulls his head forward and then bashes it back to the floor. The man’s eyes roll up in his head.

Damian is left, if he is being honest, a little breathless. He’d completely forgotten that Drake had said she’d been able to take him down. Between her small stature and innocent appearance, she seemed so...

“Damian,” Marinette says levelly. “Check the hallway. We need to move to a different room.”

Well. He supposed he won’t ever make the mistake of calling her harmless.

He does as she asks, without question. He’s caught halfway between disbelief and high elation. Marinette had seemed sweet and funny and smart in their quiet awkward conversation, but this was- he let himself be pleasantly surprised by just how relieved he was that his soulmate knew how to protect herself.

And watching her take down a guy easily two times her size was, to be frank, very attractive.

“Clear for now,” he told her lowly. She was helping up Ivy. “Let’s take the left, it’s a slightly longer route to the front so we should have a bit more time to hide.”

Before, he would’ve been surprised by her taking most of Ivy’s weight as she helped her walk. Now, it made sense, even if her height made the image unusual.

“Where’s the biggest tree in this place?”

His head whipped towards her. “Too close to the front. We won’t make it.”

“Side exits?”

“Can’t risk them. Probably has men outside.”

“Dark room for night blooming plants?”

Ivy, pale with a thin sheen of sweat, looked up. “Three rooms down on the right. Smart gal you picked up, Wayne.”

He could only nod, starting to lead them. Ivy’s labored breath was too loud, but there wasn’t much they could do.

“Stop,” Marinette breathed, and Damian did so without hesitation. He pushed himself against the wall as Marinette did her best to do the same, Ivy leaning against the wall and her shoulder.

He heard the footsteps a moment after. Three sets. Marinette tensed and he waited.

She met his eyes, and he nodded at her, reassuring the best he can. She straightened though, so it mustn’t have been too bad.

The footsteps were too close. He took a centering breath, and leapt the moment he saw movement.

The first man went down easily, the second fumbling with his gun long enough for Damian to disarm him and send him flying, joining his friend in a heap against the wall. The third man was raising his gun even as Damian spun back to him, but before he could do anything Marinette was there, one hand chopping against his exposed throat, the other wrenching the gun away.

The man couldn’t recover enough to retaliate before Damian crossed the divide and delivered a blow that knocked him unconscious.

“Thanks,” Marinette breathed out, just a bit to close to him. His eyes met hers again and that electric current returned, sharp and steady between them even with no contact.

Ivy coughed.

Damian turned away instantly. Marinette slipped right back into steadying Ivy, and they continued to the correct room without any further interruptions.

The room wasn’t in total darkness- there were flowers, grasses, and mosses that exuded faint bioluminescence, but the soft glow did little to actually illuminate the room. If anything, it cast the shadows darker, leaving every shadow absolute.

It was brilliant.

Marinette was already feeling along, finding somewhere dark and soft for Ivy to recline. Damian skulked after them, one eye on the door and the other on his phone. The call was still open, Alfred waiting on the other end. Ivy was quiet enough now that he didn’t dare break the silence to speak to him.

He received an ETA text of two minutes. He could only hope that they wouldn’t check this room.

They would though.

And Damian would be ready when they did.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

[dp-marvel94]

Face to Face- Chapter 32

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 6,098

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note:What is this?! Another Face to Face update. I'm still struggling through my first phic phight story and hoping some comments on this will encourage me. Thanks for reading as always!

Phantom stayed still for a long moment, looking out over the Ghost Zone. He took a deep breath and  watched the floating rocks, the swirling clouds, and the purple doors. He braced himself and slowly floated to his feet. He needed to head out there. Tentatively, he reached out with his mind and plucked at the line. Like Fenton said, it was there, the link between him and his other half. And….a moment later, he received a tug in kind. His confidence grew. Yes, he could do this. He could find his way home.

With that, the ghost flew. He carefully followed the line, over islands and past doors. He slipped between rocks and paused, looking upward to what looked like a river suspended in mid-air and flowing downward. Phantom’s eyes widened in awe at the sight but he kept going. All the while, he looked around with keen attention. It wouldn’t do, to be attacked by another ghost again. Luckily, he didn’t see or sense anything large or notable. Instead, his brow wrinkled as he flew past a small group of what looked like globs of ectoplasm with eyes. One of the little ghosts (at least he thought they were ghosts) looked at Danny. It blinked slowly before letting out a chirp and darting away with the others. 

Phantom watched for a moment as the small creatures flew away. Then He sloped downward, below a tree covered island. He gaped at the sight. Trees?! There were actually trees here, even though there didn’t appear to be any sun, moon, or stars. So...wait...where did the light come from? And were those the ghosts of dead trees or-

The ghost shook his head, clearing the questions about his surroundings from his mind. It really was incredible being here, even if the circumstances were...not so great. He might just have to come back, after everything was sorted...assuming that things could be fixed with Mom. The boy bit his lip. He couldn’t worry about that, not right now. 

“Focus, Phantom.” He chided himself. He had to follow the line, get back to the real world.

The ghost boy’s brow then furrowed, eyes falling on something in the distance. A rectangular shape. White, standing out in stark contrast against the green atmosphere. And…. he tugged the line again….the way home was in that direction.

Less than five minutes later, the object became clear in his view. “It’s...Casper High?” Phantom muttered.

There in front of him was a black and white version of the school, complete with the American flag and the name plastered above the door in big letters. It was strange, bizarre. Why would there be a version of his high school in the ghost zone? And….he frowned, feeling his tether. Why did the path he was following back to Fenton lead him here? Phantom furrowed his brow. He hadn’t come this way before; he would have remembered seeing this weird building. But…. yep, the line was leading him here and...he could feel he was really close.

The ghost straightened, bracing himself. Cautiously but with forced confidence, he floated up to the doors and slowly pushed them open to find…. an empty hallway, identical to the front hall at Casper, even if it was in monochrome.

“Hello?” He called quietly as he crossed the threshold.

No reply came as Phantom continued onward. His core pulsed nervously at the silence of the eerily familiar space. It was strange, seeing it so empty and quiet. And it was fittingly haunting for a ghostly double of his school. But why was this here? Why did it look like Casper High? And why was it in black and white?

The ghost boy swallowed, pushing the questions away and floating down the hallways. He looked side to side, watching for any movement. His ghost sense hadn’t gone off, but being in an enclosed space was making him anxious. But at the same time….he was so close to….something. Something that would lead him home. But what?

Suddenly, the doors he’d come through slammed shut, earning a gasp from Phantom. “Who’s...who’s there?”

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. Head jerking to the side, he turned to find...nothing. The boy frowned, opening his mouth to call out. Then there was a bang behind him. Startled, Phantom wiped back around to find locker doors banging open and closed on their own.

“I don’t want any trouble.” The ghost boy started, voice wavering with fear.

Again, something flickered beside him. There was a staticy laugh. Phantom turned again and…. His heart would have skipped a beat, if it was in his chest. There was a monochrome teenager, a buff looking guy with slicked back hair and a leather jacket. He reminded Ghost Danny uncanningly of Dash. The figure opened his mouth, static exiting. Then he pushed the ghost boy. 

Phantom stumbled, letting out a surprised cry as his back hit something solid. He turned, looking up at a scowling girl in a poodle shirt. She turned up her nose, pushing the ghost boy away. “Wait! Stop!” His eyes widened as he fell forward again, this time hitting another jock. “I don’t wanna fight!” The other teen, in a letterman, grabbed Phantom’s arm and shoved him to the floor.

The ghost boy hit the ground with a start, the impact knocking the air from his only semi-illusionary lungs. He rolled onto his back, paling at what was around him. A crowd of black-and-white teenagers, all wearing retro clothing, maybe from the fifties? They towered over him, scowling and jeering down at him. 

“Stop! Please!” Phantom covered his ears, wincing in pain at the sound. It was static, hundreds of voices speaking over each other. And they were laughing, mocking. It was years of insults. Freak, coward, geek, nerd, weak, worthless, dead, wrong, unnatural, monster. 

The ghost boy curled in on himself. “Please! I’m lost...I’m sorry I…” 

Don’t belong here...Don’t belong. Invader. 

“I don’t….” 

Trespasser. Invader. Leave! Leave, freak! 

“I… I know I’m not supposed to be here. I’m lost..I…” 

Leave! Dead! Go! The voices hissed. Don’t belong, monster! 

“Please! Stop!” Phantom begged.

The words pressed down on him and his chest heaved with panic. He whimpered as the volume rose, growing into a roar. Phantom bit back a cry as he pressed his hands to his ears, like he could block out the noise, keep out the words. He wanted to move, like the voices were demanding but he couldn’t, too frozen in fear. Instead he sobbed. “I just wanna go home.”

“Enough!” A single voice shouted. There was a whirl, a sound like gall forces winds. And then silence.  “You can’t just barge into someone’s lair!”

“I...I..I’m sorry.” Phantom fixed his head down, whole body shaking. “I just...I got lost and was trying to get home but I ended up here ‘cause-” His words cut off as his ghost sense billowed out of his mouth and he coughed.

The ghost boy paled, looking cross eyed at the mist. He slowly looked up, eyes falling on the speaker. Like the other teens, he was monochrome but looked like a stereotypical nerd, with coke bottle glasses, a bowler haircut, a polo, and a bowtie. He fit the same fifties aesthetic yet somehow...there was something different about him compared to the other. He was more vivid, more solid than the others, almost like…. 

“Are you gonna say anything buster?” The crowd around them was still and silent even as the nerd floated half a foot closer, his fists balled.

“Yeah..Umm...Sorry, I..” Phantom stuttered. His eyes then widened as his ghost sense billowed out of his mouth again. That had only happened once this singular figure showed up, not before and not by the others. The others that had stopped when the nerd told them too. “You’re a ghost.” Ghost Danny whispered, meeting the glasses-covered eyes.

The other ghost scowled. “You don’t say.”

Phantom averted his eyes again, blushing. “No...sorry...I..I mean..you’re not...you’re not like…whatever these are.” The ghost boy motioned to the crowd around them, shivering. “You’re an actual ghost.” He whispered the last part, before glancing up, at the other, now confused looking ghost. 

The other ghost’s brow furrowed behind his glasses. He raised his hand, making Phantom flinch. But instead of swinging his arm to punch or lighting his fist with ectoenergy like Ghost Danny expected, the nerd snapped his fingers and commanded. “Leave us.” 

With that, the teenagers around the ghost boy seemed to flicker, their outlines wavering. Without any movement, the crowd disappeared, leaving Phantom and the other ghost alone. The nerd lowered his arm, his fist relaxing.

That did little to comfort Phantom. His pulse pounded in his head as he wrung his hands. “So...okay...we’re alone now. And...you said this was your lair? I...uh...don’t know what that means but...I can leave...I can leave now since those guys didn’t seem to want me here-”

“Sorry about that.” The quiet words interrupted the ramble. 

“What?” Phantom blinked, looking up at the other ghost.

The nerd didn’t look angry anymore but instead almost….bashful, holding his hand out. “My shadows got out of hand. They aren’t supposed to be that cruel.”

The ghost boy just gapped, looking between the offered hand and the other ghost’s face. His mind raced, wondering what was going on. What was with the sudden change in attitude? He bit his lip. The other ghost wasn’t attacking him or...using those not-ghosts (he called them shadows?) to attack him. Maybe that apology was authentic. 

Phantom took a deep breath and chose to be brave. Tentatively, he took the offered hand and allowed the other ghost to pull him up.

Then there was silence. The ghost Danny shifted nervously in the air as he studied the other ghost. And the other ghost studied him, his expression curious yet vaguely sad.

Phantom finally coughed, pointing back the way he came. “I’ll just...I’ll leave now. Sorry again for barraging in. And uh…bye.” Slowly, he floated backward, keeping one eye on the other ghost.

“Wait.” The nerd reached forward. “You’re new, aren’t ya?” The ghost boy stopped, turning more fully towards the other ghost as he continued. “You haven’t been a ghost for a long time.”

Phantom’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing. “Um..uhh...yeah… I haven’t been...like this very long.” He swallowed. “How did you...how did you know?”

The other ghost’s expression softened. “You’re still trying to breath.” At the words, Phantom reflectively stopped, holding his breath with wide eyes. “It’s alright. That’s a tough habit to break.” The other ghost held out of hand, as if to shake. “I’m Sidney Pointdexter, by the way.”

The other ghost blinked at the hand. After a long pause, he grasped it. “I’m Danny….Danny Phantom.”

“Phantom.” The nerd nodded. “So you already picked a name.”

“Yeah?” So apparently, that was a thing? Phantom rubbed the back of his neck. “You can call me Danny though.” 

“Danny.” The other ghost half-smile. “You can call me Sidney then.” Sidney’s expression then turned more serious. “Obviously you didn’t know but... if you want to go inside someone’s lair, you need to announce yourself and ask permission to enter.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry” Phantom blushed. “I’ll...I’ll do that next time.”

“Good.” Sidney crossed his arms. “You’re lucky you barged in on me, mister. If it’d been Skulker, he would have skinned you.”

The ghost boy swallowed, suddenly anxious. His eyes bulged. “Really?!”

The other ghost nodded. “That hunter can be very possessive and mean.” Sidney then scowled. “But I’d never do that. I’m not a bully.” The other ghost then shook his head. “Anyway...why did you come here?”

Phantom’s core pulsed awkwardly at the question. “I..uh…” It wasn’t said with any anger or accusation, but innocently curious. But still, the ghost boy struggled to explain why he’d come inside. The line connecting him to his other self had led here but...how could he explain that? He swallowed. “This looks like my school, Casper High.”

Sidney blinked, eyes widening. “You went to Casper?” The corner of his lip turned up.

“Yeah.” The ghost boy bit his lip, not knowing what to say. Instead, he turned towards the door and pointed. “Yeah...thanks for the advice but...I should go so…”

“You don’t have to yet.” The other ghost’s eyes were slightly pleading. “Why don’t you rest for a bit? And I get you something to eat and drink? You look like you need it.”

Phantom blinked. “Ghosts eat?”

Sidney frowned, slightly alarmed. “Yes? Come on.” He grabbed the other boy’s arm. “That’s it. I’m making you some tea and a sandwich. I think I still have some cookies too.”

The ghost boy didn’t resist, instead gawking as the other ghost pulled him down the hallway and towards the cafeteria. His mind sputtered, trying to overcome the emotional whiplash. Seconds later, the pair floated in the cafeteria’s kitchen. Sidney grabbed a tea kettle off the stove, filled it with what looked like water from the sink, and placed it on the burner. Then he opened the fridge and pulled out what looked like slices of cheese and luncheon meat.

Phantom just stared in disbelief. Sidney turned back towards him. “I have some tiger fruit too. I grow it in the courtyard. Do you want to try some?” He held up a round, stripped fruit, the orange and black standing out in bright contrast to the monochrome environment.

The ghost boy wrinkled his nose. “What is it?”

Sidney looked down at the fruit. “It kind of tastes like an apple. It’s native to the Infinite Realms though. I don’t think it has a Material World counterpart.” He smiled. “It’s really delicious.”

“Alright?” Phantom shook his head. There was a lot of information there. Then he shrugged. “Sure.”

The other ghost nodded, quickly preparing a plate and two cups of tea. He turned back to ghost Danny. “Let’s sit in the cafeteria.”

Without question, Phantom followed. Nervously tapping his hand on his leg, he sat down and took the steaming cup offered to him. The ghost blinked, studying the liquid. It actually felt warm in his hands. He moved the cup, closing watching the liquid sloshing in the cup like water. It did actually look like tea. Tentatively, Phantom looked up, glancing at the other ghost who was sitting across from him. Sidney was blowing his own cup before taking a small sip. 

It was only then that where he was and what he was doing actually hit the boy. He was sitting in a ghostly version of his school cafeteria, with the ghost of a teenage boy who died in the fifties, based on his appearance. Phantom looked down at his plate again. And there was weird, slightly glowing ghost-food in front of him. 

Sidney’s words drew his attention. “Go ahead. Try the tea. It’s not poison” The nerd half smiled at Danny with a nod. 

Phantom looked down at his cup again, doubtfully. His stomach flopped as he considered. He was wary of trying the beverage. What actually was it? It couldn’t be actually tea, like his sister liked to drink. Could it hurt him? Weren’t there myths or something about how if you eat something in the land of the dead you can’t leave? Or was that fairies? Or...wait...did that only apply to humans? He wasn’t exactly human right now; he was a ghost. And this was food meant for ghosts. And….

“It won’t hurt you. And it’s good. I promise you’ll love it.” The other ghost encouraged patiently.

Phantom picked up the cup, again noticing the comforting warmth. It was still softly billowing steam. And it smelled so good, sweet and citrusy. Tentatively, he blew on the cup to cool it. He really did want to try it. Ignoring his doubts, ghost Danny finally took a small sip.

Phantom blinked rapidly, taking another sip. “I can taste this.” He muttered numbly before taking another sip of the fresh, lemony liquid. 

Excitement grew at the realization. He then looked down at his sandwich. Putting the cup down, he took a small bit. The savory taste of bread, cheese, ham. He took a larger bit. “I can taste this!”

“Of course you can.” Across from him, Sidney said in disbelief.

Phantom looked up, talking through his full mouth. “No I...I haven’t eaten in weeks.” He swallowed. “I mean...I tried but I couldn’t taste anything so I gave up.”

“Gave… up?” The other ghost blinked.

“Yeah. But-” Phantom stuffed a cookie in his mouth, groaning in pleasure at the taste. “But how?”

“How?” Sidney held out his hands. “It’s just lair made food.”

“Lair made?”

“Yeah, as in the lair made it?” The other ghost’s mouth fell open at the lack of recognition. “The lair basically took free ectoplasm and shaped it into food that we can eat.”

Phantom dropped the sandwich. “Ectoplasm?”

“Yes. Everything here is made of ectoplasm, even us.” Sidney answered like it was obvious. “Why wouldn’t the food be?”

At that, the ghost boy looked down at the meal with new realization. “That makes sense.”

The ghostly nerd nodded. “Yes. How don’t you know that? And why couldn’t you taste anything earlier?” His brow furrowed in deep confusion. “You said you tried food. But….you didn’t know that ghosts can eat….or need to eat?”

Phantom picked up the sandwich again, taking a few more bits to finish it. His mind whirled. “We need to eat? But we’re dead so….” He took another cookie, smiling at the taste.

Sidney gapped. “Of course we need to eat! Haven’t you been hungry?”

“Hungry?” Phantom put a hand over his stomach. No, he hadn’t been hungry in that way but...he moved his hand over his core. He’d gotten tired from overusing his powers and...he’d felt the Zone calling to him, like...like he needed to go to it for nourishment. “I have been.” He whispered. 

“But you hadn’t realized?” The nerd face palmed. “No wonder you look so sickly.”

The other ghost looked up, mouth falling open. “What?”

“You’re barely glowing. And you’re so pale. They’re no color in your skin.”

Phantom pointed. “You’re likely in black and white?!”

Sidney raised a brow, motioning down his body. “This is an intentional aesthetic.” His image wavered briefly, before the other ghost was in full color. His skin was a pale green and his eyes a glowing silver. 

“Oh.” The ghost boy muttered.

“Yes.” The other boy nodded, motioning to the plate. “Go ahead and finish. You’re lookin’ better already.”

Phantom didn’t need to be told twice. He finished the sandwich and the cookies.

Sidney crossed his arms. “I don’t understand how you didn’t realize. You should have at least been passively absorbing ectoplasm through your skin.” So apparently, that was something else ghosts could do. 

The ghost boy shrugged, taking a bite of the fruit. He paused, staring down at it. “This is really good.”

The other ghost smiled. “Isn’t it? I can give you some seeds. The bushes grow very well in lairs, if you want to plant some.” He tapped his chin. “Is your lair near here? You were trying to get back there, right? You did say that you were lost earlier.”

“I did say I was lost.” Phantom said, swallowing a bit of his tiger fruit. He then bit his lip nervously. “But...I’m not trying to get back to my….lair? I don’t have one of those, I don’t think…..Not that I’m that clear on what exactly a lair is.”

Sidney again furrowed his brow, looking bewildered. “This is a lair.” He motioned around them.

“No, I get that.” Phantom sighed. “But...what is this? Why does it look like a high school? Where did that food come from? And those people...you called them, shadows? What are those?” The other ghost was still looking at him in confusion as an idea suddenly hit the ghost Danny. “Wait...is this like your house? Like you live here. Or...err...I guess that’s not the right word. Afterlive?” His speech quickened. “If it is, I’m so sorry for barging into your house. I get why you’d be mad about that but I swear I didn’t mean-”

“Danny.” The other ghost said pointedly, making Phantom’s mouth snap shut. “It’s fine. I understand. Just…” Sidney pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me explain?”

Phantom nodded, blushing in embarrassment.

“A lair is like a ghost’s house but...It’s more personalized. It might reflect somewhere from your life or a place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s different for every ghost but based on your subconscious desires and your obsession.”

“Alright.” The ghost boy glanced around. “So this is your school from when you were alive. But still...who were those people that...attacked me?”

“Those weren’t people. They were shadows. They’re part of the lair.”

“So you do control them.”

“Somewhat?” Sidney waved his hand in a so-so motion. “As I said, your subconscious is what molds the lair.” He balled his fists. “So those shadows are reflections of people, bullies, I knew when I was alive.”

Phantom bit his lip, nervous at the anger in the statement. And he wondered. Obviously the shadows were something of a security system. But there must be more as well. There was the anger that the other ghost had shown twice now when talking about bullies. And what was that he said about obsessions having a role?

“Alright, okay.” Ghost Danny bit his lip. “But...what about your obsession? How does that-”

“Don’t.” Sidney suddenly snapped, his eyes flashing. “Never, ever ask another ghost about their obsession.”

Phantom shrunk in on himself, his shoulders falling. “Sorry.”

The other ghost’s expression softened. “You didn’t know. It’s okay. But...that’s personal to me. I don’t like to think about it, much less talk about it to someone I just met. So...don’t ask unless someone brings it up first, okay? Other ghosts aren’t as nice as me. If you asked Ember, she would fry you.”

“Okay.” The ghost boy paled, nodding furiously. 

Sidney also nodded, taking a sip of his tea. Phantom finished his fruit, while his mind struggled to process all he’d learned. About how ghosts had to eat and about ghostly food. About lairs and shadows and not asking about obsessions. It was a lot, and there were so many more questions he could ask. But he had no idea what to ask now. 

And again, the reality hit Phantom. He was sitting in a ghost’s lair, having a genial conversation like he was just a new neighbor. Not one half of a human-ghost hybrid who was trying to get back to his other half in the real world. With that, there was a small push in the back of Phantom’s mind. Yes, right. He needed to get back to following his tether to Fenton. But again...why had the line led him here?

The ghost boy put down the core of his tiger fruit once he’d finished. That got Sidney’s attention. “You’re done. Do you want anything else to eat?”

“No, thank you.” Phantom shook his head. “Actually...I need to go home.”

“Back to your lair?” Sidney questioned.

“No, I don’t have one of those.”

“Oh that’s right.” The other ghost said, frowning. “So where are you going?”

Ghost Danny bit his lip, considering. “The...the human world or...err...I think you called it the Material Realm?”

Sidney blinked, a strange mixture of shock, confusion, and worry on his face. “What? Why?”

Phantom sighed, rubbing his head. How to explain this. Guess he’d have to start at the beginning...and keep it simple. “That’s where I’ve been ever since I…..you know…” He motioned up and down his body. “About a month and a half.”

The other ghost’s mouth fell open, his eyes bulging. “You’ve been...In the living realm?”

“Yep.” Ghost Danny nodded.

“In the living realm?” Sidney put his hands on his head. “The material realm? Really, the living realm? And….” His voice pitched up in disbelief. “For a month and a half? Since you died? Wait...you’ve only been dead for a month and a half? And...that’s where you were...the whole time...but...how? And…” He waved his arms. “No wonder you look so starved!”

“Starved?” Phantom muttered, even as the other ghost continued.

“And how did you even form in the material realm?” Sidney exclaimed. “That just doesn’t happen, ever! And then how did you get here? Portals are so rare!”

“Sidney!” Ghost Danny interrupted, causing the other ghost’s mouth to snap shut. Knowing he’d gotten his host's attention, he continued. “So...long story short. My parents are ghosts hunters and researchers. They’re scientists who made a portal to...this place. They call it the Ghost Zone. And well...I went inside their portal, turned it on, and...umm...it..well...it killed me.” Phantom looked down, his core clenching at the words and the pitying look on the other ghost’s face. 

“But...I walked out of the portal. I’m still here...even if I’m different now.” He paused for a moment, considering the words. He’d said as much to Mom earlier. And he believed them. But…

“I did...I did try to act like nothing was different for a month after that accident, like I hadn’t changed. But….it’s really obvious now. Mom and Dad know what happened and…” He shivered, recent memories hitting him. “Mom and I had a fight. I wanted to talk to her about...some very hurtful stuff she’d said but….” 

Phantom bit his lip. “It went bad. We were both yelling and Mom got really upset and said...she said…” The words sputtered to a stop as what Mom had said repeated in his head. He was supposed to be normal, human, alive. He wasn’t supposed to be a ghost.  He swallowed. “I started crying….and…” Mom’s shocked and distressed face flashed in his mind, her desperate expression as she reached towards him. “I ran away. I didn’t even think. I just flew through the portal ‘cause I just couldn’t be in the same room as her. I just had to get away but…” He put his head in his hands. 

“Now I’m lost somewhere in the Ghost Zone and Mom is probably freaking out. Dad and Jazz too if she told them.” Phantom then shivered, looking up. “I need to get back to them.” He balled his fists in determination. “I need to get back to my parents, my sister, my friends, and my hum-” 

Phantom snapped his mouth shut on the last word as doubt suddenly flickered through him. Human half, he was going to say. But...he hadn’t mentioned that little fact at all. And the idea of explaining was daunting. His insides squirmed. What would a real, actual proper ghost think of that, of him? Both human and a ghost, living and dead, at the same time. Or...half of each, somewhere in the middle. Or maybe even neither, something else entirely. He didn’t know and he was suddenly terrified to find out.

So instead, ghost Danny kept his mouth shut as he slowly looked up. He blushed. “I can’t believe I told you all that.” His shoulders fell. “I must sound so pathetic.”

“No, of course not.” Sidney said kindly. He was studying Phantom curiously, yet also oddly sad. He raised a brow, looking like he still wanted to ask about the other’s near slip up. But he didn’t. Maybe he sensed it was personal, maybe he thought Phantom would refuse to answer if asked. Either way,  Sidney didn’t press. Instead, after a long pause he finally said. “But I know why you came here now.”

Phantom blinked in surprise. “What?”

“You’re looking for a portal to the living world.” The other ghost stood. “I might have something to help you. Follow me.”

Ghost Danny’s eyes widened at the statement but he obeyed without question. He floated out of his seat and took his place behind Sidney as he flew out of the cafeteria. The pair hovered down a familiar hallway. Soon enough, they stopped in front of a rusty looking locker numbered 724. Phantom looked at the door curiously. 

Across from him, Sidney asked. “Did another ghost tell you about my portal?”

Ghost Danny turned to face the other ghost, brow furrowing. “Your portal?” He shook his head. “No one told me.” He blushed. “You’re actually the first ghost I’ve ever talked to.”

The other ghost frowned. “Then how did you know this was here?”

“I didn’t.” Phantom glanced at the door again, reaching out with his mind. He tugged on the tether connecting him to Fenton and the line grew taunt. His eyes widened. There, behind the door, he sensed...something. “But...I sensed something. It...the line...it was leading me here.”

“Line?” Sidney asked.

The ghost boy glanced back at his host, eyes widening. “Yeah..I’m...uh..I’m” He bit his lip nervously. “I’m….connected to someone in the material world...like mentally.”

The other ghost raised a brow, clearly wanting to know more.

Phantom coughed, changing the subject. “So...uh...how does this work? How do I get through?”

Sidney frowned but answered the question anyway as he opened the locker door. “The mirror is the portal. It leads to the real Casper High.”

Ghost Danny blinked, studying the mirror. “That? But it’s so small and… where’s the swirling green light?” His brow furrowed as he remembered his parents’ portal.

The ghostly nerd shook his head. “It’s not always active. It’s only open for a few minutes during the witching hour of the full moon...and on the equinoxes and solstices. But” He raised a finger seriously. “There is a full moon tonight.”

Phantom raised a brow, wondering how exactly the other ghost knew that. But he didn’t ask. Instead, he looked at the mirror again. Was it really through there, his way home? Closing his eyes, the ghost boy reached out with his mind once again. Yep, yes. He was sensing something. Fenton...Fenton was through there but…. He glanced back down the hallway, towards the way he’d come. Theoretically, he could try to find his parents’ portal or he could stay here and go through when the portal opened in a little over 12 hours….and leave his loved ones worrying for longer.

Then there was a gentle tug on the line. Something tickled in the back of his mind. The corner of Phantom’s lip turned up. He could feel Fenton’s keen interest on him. Oh yeah, he could tell or show Fenton what was happening and ask him to tell their family and friends that he was okay.

Finally, Phantom sighed. “I guess I’m waiting then.”

Sidney nodded. Then his expression turned more serious. “Make sure you’re sure you want to do this, though.”

The other ghost blinked. “Of course, I want to do this. Why wouldn’t I?”

The nerd bit his lip. “Well...I should tell you not to go through the portal. You could get trapped on the other side and ghosts that get trapped in the material realm...they starve. They get weak and desperate and angry.” He shivered. “It’s a horrible way to exist but…” He looked up. “If you think you need to do this, I’ll help you.” His eyes flickered to the floor. “If I had another chance to talk to my parents, I’d take it.”

“Your...parents?” Phantom asked quietly.

Sidney wrapped his arms around himself. “They moved away from Amity Park after I….you know.” His voice quieted. “By the time I found this portal, it was too late. They’d already moved.” He shivered. “I know it would have hurt them to see me like this but...I still wish I could have. I should have told them how much I loved them, how sorry I was that all this happened.” 

That sobered Phantom. For a long moment, he stared at the other ghost and it really hit him. This was a dead teenager, a dead kid who’d had family and friends. Hopes, dreams, memories. A life...just like him.  “We’re not...we’re not that different.” Ghost Danny muttered.

Sidney finally looked up. “No, I don’t think that we are. So…” The other ghost shifted nervously in the air. “I don’t know what all happened with your mom but….talk to her.” His voice pitched up, hopeful yet sad. Not demanding but a kind suggestion from someone with experience...and regrets. “Try to make things right with her if you can. Don’t give up yet.”

Phantom swallowed, considering. He didn’t really know what to think of the other ghost’s advice. Earlier, right after the fight, he might have been angry at the suggestion. He’d tried to make things right and had failed; it wasn’t his responsibility to try again if there was no fixing things but...Mom’s face flashed in his mind again. Her guilt, her desperation as he darted through the portal. And it was simple. She was his mom and he loved her, damnit. He couldn’t just turn that off, couldn’t stop wanting her to love and accept him. He couldn’t stop hoping that she would.

“Alright.” Ghost Danny wrung his hands. “I’ll...keep that in mind.” The way he saw it, another conversation was inevitable. Knowing his sister and dad, they would insist on talking about everything as a family. But he had a choice about how he would approach that conversation. Maybe he could approach it with the hope that things would get better, even if he’d be wary to trust again.

With that, Phantom pushed the thought away, focusing on the ghost in front of him, “Thank you for the advice. And for telling me stuff. I’ve learned a lot.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Man, I knew I didn’t know much but...I don’t seem actually to know anything at all.”

Sidney nodded. “No sweat, pal.” He half-smiled. “This is the most exciting day I’ve had in years. We can hang out ‘til the portal opens and I can answer more questions.” 

“That would be awesome.” Phantom finally smiled. “You’re actually a really cool dude, Sidney.”

The other ghost beamed and ghost Danny was happy he’d managed to wander into this ghost’s lair. He’d be in big...err...bigger trouble if he hadn’t. He’d learned a ton about ghosts, gotten a much needed meal, and would be home in a few...hours. His thoughts trailed off at the end as he felt an excited mental nudge.

In the lair, Sidney physically nudged him. “Danny?” He questioned, pointing towards the mirror. His voice turned sad. “Is that what you looked like when you were alive?”

“When I was….alive?” Phantom turned and his eyes widened, taking in his reflection. In the mirror, he had black hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a white and red t-shirt.

Phantom! There was an excited exclamation in his head. At the same time, his reflection’s eyes widened.

“That’s not my reflection.” The ghost’s mouth stretched into a grin. He placed both hands on the mirror. “I’m here! I’m right here! I can see you.”

Across the mirror, Fenton smiled. You’re okay. The words were mouthed through the mirror and communicated in the ghost’s head.

“Yeah! I’m fine. I’m-” Phantom cut himself off as Fenton placed his own hands on the mirror, directly opposite his other half’s. Instantly, a warmth coursed into the ghost boy. His eyes widened as a wave of green passed over the mirror. “It’s open.” He muttered, sounding awed. 

Phantom didn’t quite understand how but the portal was opened. And he needed to be on the other side of it, now. With little effort, he pressed his fingers out of the mirror. He curled them around the back of Fenton’s hand as if he and his other self were holding hands.

Fenton grinned and he pulled.

Behind Phantom, Sidney called. “What are you-”

Without resistance, Phantom slipped through the mirror and right into his other self’s arms.

[tloujm]

Part XVII: Funnel of Love

Author’s Notes: Sorry it took so long.

Genre: Fluff + Angst = this chapter

Summary: This takes place right after the last chapter. The newly engaged couple share the news with their loved ones. The wedding planning pressure is on. 

Ship: Joel x Reader

“Well, well, well. Big bro is doing it for real this time, huh.” Tommy began with a wide grin on his face. “Congratulations, Joel. I mean it. I always knew it was gonna be the two of you since the first day y’all showed up at the gates.” Joel relieved one of the watchtower guards so he could talk to Tommy about the proposal. They were both up in the small wooden shelter, rifles in hand, glancing between each other and the world beyond the gates.

“Thanks, brother.” Joel donned a bashful smirk.

“So do I get to be best man?” Tommy asked.

“Weren’t you already best man?” Joel countered.

“Yeah, but that time didn’t really count.” Tommy explained. Joel shot him a glare as a response to the dismissal of his first marriage. He knew that this time was different though, so he couldn’t blame him.

“‘Course you’re my best man.”

*****

“Joel? Miller? Of the infamous Miller brothers?” Jesse exclaimed.

“You knew we were together.” You said. Jesse was your closest friend at the settlement, therefore, he was the first person you told. You had reservations about sharing the news with him because, for a moment while you and Joel were broken up, you grew feelings for Jesse. It was something you never shared out loud or in your journal. Not sure of whether the feelings truly stemmed from Jesse himself or your emotions from Joel, you didn’t feel right giving weight to those thoughts. Despite Joel’s suggestion, you always figured Jesse’s feelings were purely platonic anyway.

“Yeah, I know. It just seems very official. I didn’t think people still did that these days.”

“He did manage to surprise me. It was very romantic. You should take some notes just in case you feel compelled to do the same with a special somebody.”

“Take notes? From Joel? Miller? I can be quite romantic on my own, thank you.” Jesse turned to you. “But listen, I’m happy for you. Whatever you need for your upcoming nuptials, let me know.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You responded. It fell silent for a moment while the two of you were cleaning up the stable. 

“I bet you Joel can get you guys a senior discount on a wedding cake from the bakery.” Jesse spoke up. He broke into a fit of laughter as you dropped your broom and threw a handful of hay at him.

“He is not even that old.” You responded defensively.

“No, no. He’s just regular old.” Jesse reasoned jokingly.

“He’s young at heart!”

“(Y/N), He plays the guitar on a rocking chair and whittles for fun.”

“He does other things for fun that I can tell you right now he is not too old for.” You replied with a coy tone in your voice. 

“Alright, alright.” Jesse shook his head playfully and continued sweeping up the straw on the ground. “The jury is still out on how old he is, but I suppose we can both agree that he’s not geriatric.” He reflexively ducked when he heard you drop the broom again to pick up some more hay. 

“So I’m invited to the wedding then?” He asked seriously.

“Of course you are! You’re my best friend.” You replied.

He clears his throat. “Yeah…”

*****

“Honey, I’m home.” Joel said. The words flew out his mouth in a jovial tone. He had never said those words before. It reminded him of a husband from the 1950s coming home from a day at the office. That particular visual didn’t enthuse him, but the idea of seeing you again did. He knew that he’d never wear a suit and work in an office, but he hoped that the rest of his life consisted of coming home to you.

“My love, I’m in here.” Your voice carried from the kitchen. He quickly followed until he stopped right behind you. His arms snaked around your waist as he kissed the top of your head. “What did you do today?”

“I spent some time with Tommy.” He went to go sit down at the island.

“Oh?”

“He asked how our trip went.” He began. You turned to face him.

“You told him about us?” You asked, smiling. He nodded.

“Yeah,” He chuckled. “He asked to be my best man. Did you tell Maria?”

“Yeah, I told her after Jesse.”

“Oh good. He knows.” He began sarcastically. “I better stop catchin’ him gazing at my bride then.”

“Joel, stop. He always knew we were together. But as for Maria, she was super excited. She started talking about wedding stuff like we weren’t living in some fungal zombie infested world. It’s not like I can go dress shopping, or cake tasting or pick out venues. I mean honestly, what’s the point of a wedding?”

“You don’t wanna have a wedding?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “All I want is to get married to you. She was just planning it all out the second I told her and I was feeling overwhelmed.”

“She’s just excited. Take a breath then go back and talk to her. If anyone’s got the connections to throw a wedding, it’s her.”

“What was your wedding like?” You asked.

“You wanna know?” You nodded. He sighed. “It wasn’t much. We cut costs wherever we could so I wore a hand-me-down suit from my dad and Tommy wore a hand-me-down suit from me. The only thing that matched on our suits were the buteniers. It was in one of her aunt’s backyard. It was dead in the middle of summer after school let out, but the only decorations were red, green and blue Christmas tree lights that she put on the bushes. I remember her aunt tasked me and Tommy with going to get some flowers. She gave us some money, but my God, I had no idea how expensive real flowers were. I bought Sarah’s mom a bouquet from the florist while Tommy dumpster dived for some dying flowers that they had just thrown out for the rest of the wedding party.” He shrugged. “The ceremony was quick. The reception was a potluck; everyone brought a dish and their own fold out chairs. Outside of my cousin singing a song, the music was from a boombox. It was simple, but it all came together. I had my own issues with my parents and her side of the family didn’t like me much after I knocked her up, but for that one day, we all got along and it was nice.” 

“Oh. Wow. At least everyone got along.”

He chuckled. “I know it was nothing impressive. It was a shotgun wedding for a couple of teenagers. But I don’t want you to worry about how that went. What matters is now and how we want things to go for us.”

You smiled. “Our wedding can go the exact same way and I wouldn’t care so long as you’re there.”

****

“So,” Maria slammed down a stack of wedding magazines on the coffee table. “I think looking through these would be a good start.”

Maria invited you and some other women over one evening to have a girls night. She had never done this before, but she felt your impending marriage was a good excuse to have one. You didn’t have many female friends. Most were acquaintances, so none of them were as close as Maria and Wendy to you. They were there, but so were a handful of others you’ve only ever spoken to in passing.

Maria had a growing wine collection. She would trade for a bottle or two every so often. For your special occasion, she dusted off two bottles. Wendy made you a homemade pin that said “Bride to be” which she insisted you wear all night. Maria passed the magazines all around the circle you guys made on the floor.

“Maria, where did you get all of these.” You asked.

“I’ve had them all this time. While I was on a scavenging trip one day, and this was years and years ago, I saw them and grabbed them. It was impulsive. I don’t know. Me and Tommy had been together for a while and you know, naturally I started hearing wedding bells even though he never really proposed. I know it's silly to expect happiness in the middle of all this craziness, but it became normal for him and I and despite all this, he stuck by my side. I spent my whole life pre-outbreak wanting a wedding. I mean I wasn’t obsessed with it, but what girl doesn’t want a little fairytale wedding?”

“Tommy never proposed? I thought you guys were married?” Sheila spoke up in between sips.

“We’re basically married. Obviously not under law, but we committed ourselves to each other. I wanted to stop running and just build a future, even a tiny one, for us. He wanted the same. So we settled down and built this place. Well ‘settle down’ as much as we can in this type of world now. But, it was all casual. He brought it up one day while we were eating. He asked if I’d ever want a husband. He asked if it mattered to me.”

“What did you say?” Wendy asked.

“I told him, of course it mattered. At least to me. He gave me that famous Miller half smile,” Maria looked to you as to say ‘You know what I’m talking about’. “And asked if I thought he was husband material. I kinda strung him along for fun. I told him ‘As close to husband material as he can get’. He let out this little laugh and said ‘Well it’s settled then.’ and I thought to myself, I get to be someone’s wife! But not just anyone’s wife, his wife. At that point I couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t a proposal in the traditional sense. I guess it still counts, but we never did anything about it since. I guess we just assumed marriage from that point on. We expressed our love for each other, but never spoke the traditional vows. He never called me his fiance. As a matter of fact, the first time I heard him call me his wife to another person was when you and Joel showed up at our door.” She spoke in a roller coaster of tones, switching between enthusiastic and disappointed. “So I want you to have something special to commemorate this moment with. It’s not going to be a big, fancy wedding, but something nice nonetheless.” She said to you.

“Thank you.” You replied.

“Ohhh, look at this dress! I think this would go great with your figure, honey.” Darlene stated as she handed you the opened magazine. You admitted it was nice, but you couldn't see yourself in it. 

“That’s a bit plain, don’t you think? How about this one.” Maria handed you her magazine. The dress was exceptionally grand. It had a train and was adorned with crystals and lace.

“That’s quite the dress, Maria.” You commented, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“But do you like it?” She asked.

“I do,” It wasn’t a whole lie. “But what’s the point in looking at dresses? I’m not gonna be wearing any of them from these magazines. I don’t own any white dresses at all. Just a white t shirt with sweat stains and holes in ‘em.”

“It doesn’t hurt to fantasize a little bit. Besides, maybe we’ll go out and find a store with something nice to wear inside.” She replied. 

“Drink up, honey, you're supposed to be happy.” Darlene said as she watched you nurse your glass.

“I am happy.” You replied with a straight face.

“Let’s play This or That and let’s pretend it was 13 years ago and the world was normal again. I’ll ask you to choose between two different things, wedding themed of course. I want you to give me an answer quickly to ensure it’s the truest answer.” Maria suggested.

“What were you doing 13 years ago?” Darlene asked you.

“Just graduated college. Didn’t even get a chance to apply my degree anywhere.”

“Oh, you were just a youngin’. Still had milk ‘hind your ears.” She playfully slapped your thigh. “And let’s see...Joel must have been how old…” She pondered seriously.

“Vanilla or chocolate?” Maria spoke up.

“What?” You asked.

“Cake. Vanilla or chocolate for your wedding cake?”

“Uh, chocolate.”

“Outdoor or indoor venue?”

“Indoor, I guess.”

“DJ or band?”

“DJ?”

“Lillies or Peonies for your bouquet?”

“I don’t think I know what peonies look like, to be honest.”

For the rest of the night, you and the other women played wedding themed games that you were sure Maria made up. They fiddled with your hair and dabbed beet juice on your lips and cheeks to appear as makeup. Despite Darlene rubbing you the wrong way, you took her advice and ‘drunk up’. Getting loose helped, but it still was all a bit overwhelming to you. Part of you wanted the fairytale like Maria said, but part of you didn’t even want it at all. While a fairytale would look nice, it would come with too many cons and then you would think ‘what was the point’. There would be too many people, and as an introvert, you weren’t prepared for that. Having to coordinate a large amount of food to feed the party, acquire a form of entertainment to keep everyone busy, ceremony rehearsals, picking loyalties when choosing between your sister in law and your good friend for made of honor and so on. Honestly none of your female friends were as close to you as Jesse, though, but you didn’t think he nor Joel would be cool with him being your main bridesmaid. 

Still buzzed, you walked into your empty house and beelined it to the bathroom. You sat at the edge of the tub, warm water running through your fingers as you watched it fill up. You grabbed your portable CD player and headphones out the drawer next to the toilet. You adjusted yourself into the inviting bath and immediately slipped your head under the surface. Being underwater was always a relaxing feeling for you so long as you knew you were in control. Your hands held onto the sides of the tub, keeping you under. You stayed there with your eyes closed until you couldn’t take it anymore. The curls of your hair laid flat against your head as you took in a large breath. As weird as it was, it helped the anxiety that you were currently harboring. The cherry on top was your music. You reached over the edge and felt for the play button before sliding the headphones over your ears. Again, you closed your eyes. You weren’t thinking about anything in particular: your patrol duty tomorrow morning, your promise to have lunch with Maria and Darlene, and sure as hell not your wedding. 

The buzz was wearing off, but the warm water took over the job and continued to relax your muscles. You were three songs into the album you were listening to when they abruptly tensed up. Your eyes popped open at the sudden splash of water that landed on your chest. It felt as though only a moment ago you were alone in the world and now sitting on the edge of the tub is Joel. He watched as you scooted up, sloshing the water around. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to splash you that hard.” He chuckled before pointing to your CD player. “You gotta be careful with this, (Y/N), you know. Gotta have your wits about you even in a place like Jackson---”

“I know, I just wanted to unwind for a moment---” You butted in.

“I don’t mean to chastise you like you’re a child, but I just want you to be safe. What if it wasn’t me here.”

“All the doors are locked.” You reasoned.

“Still.” He gave you his famous glare for a solid moment before his eyes drifted down to your body in the water. “Room for one more?” He lifted his eyebrow.

You frowned. “I was about to get out.”

“Didn’t look like that to me, darlin’. If I’d chosen to watch you for longer, you’d still be laying there with your eyes closed.”

“How long were you watching me for?” You asked, starting to feel a mix of self consciousness and arousal.

“Doesn’t matter.” Joel’s face was rid of emotion save from his eyes. His eyes were lit up with lust despite your rejection.

“The water was getting cold. I was just waiting for the song to end before getting out.”

He lifted the same eyebrow. “Is that so?” His eyes followed your body as you stood up in the tub. He unfolded his arms and grabbed the towel on the back of the door. Holding it out, you stepped out of the tub and into the soft fabric. He slid his hands up your arms before massaging your shoulders. His hands were rough and ungentle, but you still let him continue. “Baby, tell me what’s wrong. Who hurt you? I’ll go grab Tommy’s bat and smash their kneecaps in.”

You chuckled. “While I’m sure you would,” You turned around, releasing your shoulders from his grip. “No one hurt me. I’m just...I just got some stuff on my mind.”

“Care to share?” He asked. You shrugged. “Was it something that happened at Maria’s?”

“She threw me a bridal shower.”

He sat on the toilet and pulled you down onto his lap. “That was nice of her.”

“I mean yeah, it was nice. It just...It felt forced. Women were there that I hardly knew. We were planning the wedding, imagining details I knew would never work. I feel like Maria wants this to happen more than I do and I hate that. I should want this the most. I mean I do want this,” You point between you and him. “But I just don’t know how I want to go about it. I thought seeing her again would help me make up my mind about things, but I feel just as confused and flustered.”

He kissed your shoulder. “I don’t want you to stress out over this. It’ll all work out, because the most important thing in the end is that we have each other. I promise,” He kissed your shoulder again. “Ok?” He waited for you to say it back before tapping your thigh. “Now, just because you didn’t want me to get in with you doesn’t mean I don’t want a nice, relaxing bath too. Last chance before you put your clothes on.” He pointed between you, him and the tub as if asking for you to join him. 

You smile with a shake of your head. “No, my skin is all wrinkly but I promise to only keep the towel on if you promise not to make me wait long.” You winked at him. 

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (10/10)

Title: An Experimental Design

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts. Takes place about a week after that fic.

A/N: Thank you all for going on this crazy journey with me. You're the literal best.

Chapter 10: Epilogue: Two by Two

Three Months Later

The gas had done its job.

They passed through dark halls and moved through rooms with their guns drawn, Hydra agents knocked out, lying on the floor. Soldiers moved in behind the Commandos, tying up the passed-out men and moving them to trucks to transport. Morita and Jones started collecting files, throwing any piece of paper they found into bags to be translated later and whooping with joy when they found whole file cabinets if full, undisturbed files.

Three months of breadcrumbs had led them here: a Hydra base hidden in the mountains of Poland, far from the front and any other Hydra bases.

Steve and Peggy pushed forward, guns drawn and the shield up as they cleared the way through the base. They kept Howard’s directive in the front of their minds: Make sure you have enough rings for a month, and keep them taped to your body, not in a pocket. Don’t get separated. If you get caught, get caught together and stay that way. Peggy stayed at Steve’s side, half hidden behind his shield, always in touching distance.

It had taken some time to get used to the feel of the vibranium on the fourth finger of her left hand, but now its presence reassured her every time she heard the small click when she shifted her grip against her gun.

They reached a locked door, and called Dernier over. Instead of the explosion they expected, he quickly picked the lock exposing a brightly lit set of cement stairs.

They could hear the keening before they even took a step.

“I thought the gas penetrated the whole facility?” Steve wondered quietly out loud, slowly starting their descent.

“Should have,” Peggy murmured.

Dum Dum poked him. “I can toss another, we just gotta gear up first.”

Steve held up his hand, signaling them all to be quiet. He wasn’t sure if they could hear it, but he could. And the voice was far too familiar.

“Don’t worry, ok? I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.”

Peggy looked up at Steve, having heard it as well. “Sounds familiar,” she remarked quietly, referring to both the sound of the voice and the words so similar to what Steve had said to her over and over since this all began.

There was the keening again, a sound that made Peggy wince with recognition. It was a woman, and she was in pain.

“What are you hearing, Steve?” Dugan whispered. Steve just shook his head.

“I’ve got this.” The man’s voice said again, smooth and somewhat cocky. Steve knew that voice, he’d bet anything on it.

A bang against metal made them start, followed by harsh instructions in German.

He lifted his hand again, and looked at his men with serious eyes. They all knew that look: be ready for anything. They started to move again, slowly down the stairs. “Call it out!” Steve yelled when they’d stopped at the bottom of the stairs, still hidden against the wall and clear of the open doorway.

“Ten and two!” The man yelled, giving the Commandos just enough time to come around the corner, guns drawn, ready for the two Hydra soldiers that were guarding the cells. Peggy caught the one farther away in the shoulder with a clean shot, and Dugan moved past her to tackle him to the ground. Steve swung his shield up, catching the closer guard in the face, knocking him out.

“Fucking hell,” the man swore quietly, the sound of a body rattling bars as he pushed against the door to his cell. “Steve?”

Steve stepped away, the unconscious man no longer a threat. Peggy stepped up behind him, shocked.

The large basement was lined with cells, but only two, right next to one another, were occupied. Staring at them, dirty and tired and missing his left arm, was Sargent Bucky Barnes.

“Bucky?” Steve’s surprise was drowned out by the chorus of surprise from behind them, the Commandos just as surprised and shocked to see their dead friend alive and well. They surged forward but Peggy stopped them all.

She turned, hands up. “Gloves. All of you. You know the protocol.”

“Protocol?” Bucky asked, “What…?”

Peggy turned towards him, nodding her head towards the cell next to him. “Who is she?”

Curled in the corner, looking quite ready to scratch off her own skin, was a lithe redhead. She hid her face, hand stretched through the bars. Bucky went to her, reaching out and holding her hand. Peggy and Steve stiffened, watching the way her body relaxed at his touch.

“She was one of theirs, a trained assassin, I think, but… I don’t know what they hell they did to her. She’s in a lot of pain.” He stood, his hand still in hers.

Steve nodded and Jones and Dernier were immediately working on the latches, their thick leather gloves slowing them down while Morita searched the guards for keys.

“Stevie?” Bucky asked, holding on to the bar closest to him, worried with the unfamiliar protocols.

“You can’t touch any of us,” Steve warned. “And you’re the only one that can touch her.” He pointed at the woman who was mumbling in Russian.

“Natalia.” Bucky added, bending and whispering ‘friends’ to her in his broken Russian, holding her hand tight and trying to calm her. He looked back up at Steve. “Why?”

Steve started to explain, but the lock on Bucky’s cell broke, Dugan swinging the door wide open. Bucky watched them all step out of his way as he turned, moving towards Natalia’s cell, his face grim. As soon as they opened her cell door she scrambled back into the corner as far as she could, hiding from them.

Peggy turned away, unable to watch as Bucky knelt next to Natalia, whispering in a mix of English and phonetic Russian, coaxing her to stand. Peggy bit her tongue, trying not to cry because she knew exactly what kind of pain the woman was in by the whimper she made, and exactly what made the woman sigh in relief. She wiped away the tears in her eyes as she turned, just in time to see the woman tuck herself against Bucky, his only arm wrapped around her to hold her up, and her head tucked tight against his neck.

Skin to skin.

It made her nauseous. There were more, and Barnes was one of them.

They hadn’t been fast enough to stop them from doing what they’d done to her to someone else.

She watched them march past her, the Commandos helping them up the stairs and out of the holding cells. She could feel Steve move up behind her, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying, couldn’t feel anything beyond the rush of blood in her ears.

She sped away, moved briskly up the stairs and pushed out of the building, past the Commandos, past the soldiers and the trucks full of passed out Hydra agents, and didn’t stop until she was a dozen feet into the tree line. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, couldn’t get her heart to stop pounding.

By the time Steve caught up with her she was on her knees, vomiting into the forest floor.

“Jesus, Peg…” He dropped to his knees, slipping the shield on his back and setting his hands on her shoulders as she sat up, wiping her mouth.

“I just…” She forced a big, shuddering breath, “I just need a minute.”

He pulled her close, sliding them away from the mess she’d made in the dirt. “What happened?”

She shook her head against him. “I don’t know, I just… I could remember what it felt like to be her. What that pain was like, what it was like to lay on that table while they pumped me full of drugs and I just…”

He held her tight, her body shaking in his arms. “You’re okay. You’re okay, Peg. I have you and no one is ever going to hurt you like that again.”

She pulled out of his arms, standing and brushing the dirt from her clothes, even though she was still shaking. “No, but they hurt them.”

Steve felt a lump in his throat as he looked up at her. He could see the way she was forcing to compose herself, could see that she wanted to fall apart but wouldn’t dare let herself. He could feel it, too: the realization that his best friend was alive, that they’d found him mostly whole and coherent, that of all the people in the world, Bucky was now also somehow caught up in this mess of an experiment… If he thought about it too much, he’d start shaking, too.

He stood, reaching out for her left hand with his, taking it and letting their rings softly click together. “We can help them. Howard knows how to help them. And Jones said they’ve found the motherload of information. They didn’t have time to hide or destroy it. Maybe, finally, we have a break.”

Peggy looked up at him softly, eyes welling up. She blinked the tears away and held his hand tight. “James isn’t dead.”

Steve smiled back, a chuckle of excitement bouncing in his chest. “Looks pretty alive to me.”

Steve reached up, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear that had made it past Peggy’s lashes. She smiled and slowly let go of his hand, forcing her composure. “We have quite a lot of work left, Captain.”

“You go ahead, I’ll be right there.” He watched as she walked away, and when she stepped thought the tree line and he couldn’t see her anymore he dropped his hands to his knees, taking deep breaths. His mind was whirling, just as much as hers, and he was fighting just as hard to keep his composure.

“Fucking hell,” he murmured, trying to slow his heart. It wasn’t even noon, and it had already been a long day.

But he had his best friend back, and that was a miraculous start.

~*~

Four weeks later

Peggy marched through the halls of the SSR, gritting her teeth tight, on a singular mission.

She stopped at his desk, pointed at Steve, and walked away, not even waiting to see if he was going to follow.

He did, without question, and he felt his stomach sink at the expression on her face and the familiar path they were taking.

They didn’t stop until she’d shut them into an empty office. He looked at her, concerned, questioning, and worried. Howard had injected them all with what he had assured them was an antidote to Project Anchor only days after they’d recovered the research from the Hydra outpost. In all that time, she hadn’t reported an ounce of pain. He’d been clear and coherent again. And though their attachment hadn’t gone nearly as far as Steve and Peggy’s had, Bucky and Natalia were also free from the debilitating side effects of Hydra’s experiments.

The silicone bands in their rings were now just that: silicone. And she’d been fine. Fine. But he worried, in the pit of his stomach, that it had changed.

Peggy just stormed past him, throwing her hands up in the air. “That Natalia, Natasha, whatever she wants to be called, is the most infuriating creature I’ve ever met!” She kicked a stray chair and leaned heavily on the desk. “She’s acting like she knows him, Steve. Like she has some deep attachment to Barnes and because of that I need to believe her.” She hung her head. “How am I supposed to trust that she’s ready to join us, that the intel she’s offering is real?”

Steve stepped up, stopping Peggy’s rant as he took her by the shoulders and looked at her face. She followed his gaze, watching as he looked her over. “What?” she demanded, eyes following as he touched her cheek with his hand. “What?”

“You’re ok?” He asked timidly, fears still gnawing at the back of his brain.

She pushed out of his arms, eyebrows knitting together. “What are you prattling on about? I’m livid! That woman is just pushing my buttons and I’m trying to help her!” She put her fists on her hips, pacing. “How are we supposed to believe that she’s not going to go right back to the Russians at the first chance—”

Steve stopped her, turning her and kissing her soundly. She sputtered back, deflated. “Bloody hell, Stave!”

He smiled, just a little half smile. “You’re not in pain, Peggy?”

“Pain? What—” She stopped, sighing when she finally realized what it must have all looked like to him. The tight face, the purposeful walk and the built-up energy, the empty office… She shook her head. “No pain, my darling. Just completely and absolutely irritated.” Her smile was soft, despite her body still being tense with agitation. “I didn’t mean to make you think…”

He hugged her tight, cutting her off. “I think I’m going to be worried about that for a while, at least.”

Peggy slid her arms around him, some of the fight leaving her. “I’ve promised you before and I’ll promise you again. If anything changes, even the slightest, you’ll be the first to know.” She felt him nod, and she snuggled under his chin. Despite the fact that the skin-to-skin contact didn’t hold any more chemical reactions to relax her, being in his arms still had the power to calm her the way it had before all this had started. His presence had always seemed to hold that magic for her.

With their antidote managed, they’d moved on to bring Barned and Natalia into the folds of the SSR. It was easier to try to reassimilate Barnes. They had his medical records, they knew what they’d done to him and the man had proven in the past he could be trusted. The path was much clearer for him as a POW. Natalia, who said she preferred Natasha, was a former Russian spy on loan to Hydra. They knew very little about her, but she behaved as if her word was good enough for them to trust her. Peggy had taken on responsibility for the woman, and had regretted it nearly every day since.

He kissed the top of her head, smoothing her hair back before stepping away and sitting on the desk across from her, settling in to listen to whatever it was today that had gotten her hackles up about Natasha. “Now, go ahead. Rant away, dear.”

Peggy stared at him, sitting on the desk, hands folded in his lap, waiting, she shook her head. “Well now I’m quite out of steam, thank you very much,” her words were filled with disappointment. She looked around, sighing heavily. “I was looking forward to a good tongue wagging.”

Steve lifted an eyebrow as an idea overtook him. He pointed his finger at her and turned his hand, crooking it and telling her to join him. She joined him, her exasperated look humoring him as he trapped her between his legs. “No one who saw that look on your face is going to come looking for us anytime soon… Maybe we can do a different kind of tongue wagging?”

Peggy laughed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cheeky!”

“That’s me,” he mumbled, leaning forward to kiss her. “What do you think?” he asked, leaning back and rubbing his nose against hers. “Should we make some better memories in this office?”

Her kiss was the only answer he needed.