#the danger of trying to find your sketchbook is finding old sketch books

[kinaesthetiqueer]

important finds in my undergrad sketchbook :) lil vampire me is so cute 🥰🥰🥰 but also honey.

i haven't changed one goddamn bit.

[snowdice]

742 (Chapter 3: Magic Book)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil/Patton (romantic, but could be read as platonic)

Characters:

Main: Virgil, Patton

Appear: Janus, Logan, Roman

Mentioned: Remus

Summary:

Virgil Sanders died alone on a hill at the edge of town by his own hand near the end of his senior year of high school. Patton had never known him; he was also the last person to see him alive.

Despite having barely ever talked to Virgil, Patton never could get over the boy’s death and he could never get rid of the sketchbook Virgil had pressed into his hands before running off that day. It didn’t matter that the number of drawings of Patton himself was… a bit creepy given the context that they hadn’t really known each other. The sketchbook was always somehow a comfort to him.

When Patton is mortally injured, he finds himself reaching for that comfort and suddenly ends up in his old high school with a dead boy standing front of him. Now, it’s a race against the clock to survive a danger Patton had no memories of being in last time with a boy who knew more about him than he really should. If they’re fast enough, maybe this time, no one has to die.

Notes: temporary major character death, suicide (temporary and self-sacrificial, not because of mental health reasons), a bit of gross out stuff (a character walked through what is in essence digestive fluid of a giant slug monster)  

This is the chapter by chapter repost of my story for the @ts-storytime Big Bang 2022 event. You can see the whole story here.

A special thanks to @kiapet2 for being my beta reader and to @easy-meta-knight for the artwork. It was fun working with you!

Check out the awesome artwork for this fic here!

Part 1 Part 2

“Logan!” Patton said, bursting into Logan’s classroom.

Logan was seated at his desk, two neat stacks of student’s papers in front of him and a red pen in hand. It was a familiar sight even though Patton hadn’t seen it in the 2 years since he’d graduated high school. It was a little strange to see him younger. Logan hadn’t aged too much in the last couple of years, but the sudden jump back was still a bit odd.

Logan jumped at Patton’s abrupt entrance, looking up sharply. 

“Ah,” he said after a moment, adjusting his glasses. “Hello, Patton.” He glanced curiously at Virgil who was hanging back in the doorway. “Are you ready to go home?”

“No!”

Logan blinked at him. “Pardon?”

“We need your help,” Patton said.

Logan glanced at Virgil again and set his pen down. “With what?”

“With Virgil,” Patton said, reaching back to pull Virgil fully into the room.

“Hello, Mr. Sanders,” Logan said with a nod. “Did you need help with the class content?” Though even as he asked it, his brow crinkled in confusion, obviously knowing that didn’t quite add up.

“No,” Virgil answered.

“Then what do you need my assistance with?”

Virgil sucked in a quick breath through his teeth like he was bracing himself to stick his hand in boiling water. “I’m in a time loop,” he said.

Logan just stared at the two of them for a long moment, seeming to be trying to figure out if this was some elaborate joke of the youth.

“I have proof,” Virgil said before Logan could gather himself to say anything. He pulled the sketchbook out from where he’d tucked it under his arm and set about flipping through it. He landed on a page that had drawing number 102 on it.

It was a sketch that Patton recognized, of course, but he’d never paid too much attention to it. The picture was one of the simpler ones in the book, though it took up an entire page. It was a simple blue bird sitting on a tree branch larger than its own body. It was looking to the left with a string in its mouth.

Virgil took a few steps forward to plop it down on top of the papers Logan had been grading and then quickly retreated back to Patton’s side.

For some reason, after looking at it for a few seconds, Logan nodded. “Oh,” he said. “Then what is it that you need?”

“I need your big brain to help us figure out what to do,” Virgil said. Then, he paused. “Please?”

“Very well,” Logan agreed. “Close that door behind you.”

Virgil did so, and then turned to start digging through his backpack. 

“Here,” he said after pulling out a textbook sized book with a dark blue cover. He nodded at one of Logan’s desk drawers. “May I?”

Logan pushed back his chair slightly to give Virgil access to the indicated drawer. Virgil immediately pulled out Logan’s collection of sticky notes and set down the textbook. He quickly started flipping through it, sticking different colored notes in what looked like random places from what Patton could tell.

Logan watched him intently the whole 5 minutes it took for him to flip through the book. Virgil then exchanged the sketchbook still open in front of Logan with the now sticky note-riddled book.

“We’re being eaten by a giant slug,” Virgil said. “That should get you caught up.”

“Ah,” Logan said, still seeming a bit bewildered, but he did dutifully turn to the book and opened it to the first marked page. “Alright.”

“What was that?” Patton asked when Virgil stepped away.

“Me pre-notating the book with his color system takes his time to get all of the relevant information down from 1 hour to 20 minutes.”

“You memorized how Logan takes notes on your magic book?” Patton said, honestly amazed. He’d lived with the man his entire life and Patton still had no idea how his system worked.

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve done this a lot of times,” he said, looking very, very tired.

“Do you want coffee while we wait on him?” Patton asked, waving at Logan who was reading intently by now.

Virgil smiled. “Sure.”

Patton hadn’t been in Logan’s classroom for a few years, but he still remembered where his brother kept the good coffee supplies locked up and safe from students and coworkers.

Virgil tried to help, obviously knowing just as much about Logan’s coffee stash as Patton, but Patton shooed him into a seat. He looked like he needed to conserve as much energy as possible.

Patton filled the coffee pot all the way up, planning to give Logan some as well.

“I had a lemonade coffee earlier today,” Patton said as he watched the dark liquid start to dribble out of the machine and into the pot below.

“A lemonade coffee?” Virgil asked. “Like a warm one or…”

“Iced,” Patton said. “It’s, er, it was August. There’s a coffee shop I like near the university I’ve been attending. They have specials and that was one of their summer ones. I was about to start my third year.”

“Sorry,” Virgil said.

Patton turned to him. “Why are you sorry?”

“My magic dragged you back here,” he said. “You had a whole life going and it just plopped you back here in my mess.”

“It’s not your fault,” Patton said. “Besides I…” he trailed off for a moment. “I think I was probably dying there. Everything was weird and confusing, but if the sketchbook resorted to time travel, I think me almost dying is probably why. So, being back here is better than the alternative, slug or no.”

“Still,” Virgil said. “Even if you survive today… again, you’re probably trapped in this time. You wouldn’t be able to go back to the life you made.”

“I’d be able to get back,” Patton said, cheerfully. “Just the long way around.”

Virgil didn’t say anything.

“And what about you?” Patton asked. “With 742 pictures and 12 hours per picture that…”

“I really don’t want to calculate the number,” he interrupted.

Patton looked at him sadly for a moment but didn’t push. Virgil didn’t offer anything else to break the silence, so they stayed quiet until the coffee pot finished running.

It wasn’t until after he was already handing Virgil a cup of coffee that he realized he’d automatically added 1 spoonful of sugar and a dash of coffee creamer to Virgil’s cup.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching halfway back to the cup he’d just set down, unsure if he should take it back or not. “I didn’t ask how you like it.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil said, his eyes lingering on Patton’s hand as he withdrew it fully. “That is how I like it.”

“Oh,” Patton said. “Uh, okay.” 

He turned away and quickly put 2 spoons of sugar and a bit more creamer into Logan’s cup before walking it over to his brother. Logan was flipping through the book at an alarmingly fast pace, a sort of awed look on his face that he only got when reading about new dinosaur fossils being discovered. 

Patton poked the back of his hand. “Coffee,” he said, and Logan’s hand automatically came over to take it without him looking up.

Patton stepped away and returned to Virgil. Virgil had his eyes closed and he looked almost like he was napping in his chair, but his mouth opened when Patton drew near. 

“Coffee’s one of the few things that never gets old,” he said.

“Is it?” Patton asked, amused.

Virgil nodded. “You learn to appreciate things like that.” He opened his eyes to look at Patton. “Most things can’t retain their beauty forever. You start to see the flaws in your favorite painting in the art room. Your favorite song on the radio starts to get boring. Your favorite snacks you pack in your bookbag get old. Even the sunset gets boring once you’ve seen the same one so many times.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Some things don’t lose their beauty though, no matter how many times around you go.”

“What are some others?” Patton asked.

Virgil tilted his head up to look at the ceiling for a moment before saying, “Birds.” He nodded to himself. “There’s a couple of birds that have a nest outside the history room. I think one of them is going to lay eggs soon. The nest looks like an actual wreck. I’m pretty sure they’ve used gum wrappers for it and the male bird’s chirping is off. It sounds like it’s shrieking half of the time.”

He tapped his fingers against the desk, thinking for a couple more seconds, eyes still on the ceiling.

“And the song they’re learning in third period band,” he continued. “To be honest, it did start to annoy me at one point, but it ended up coming full circle and I enjoy it again. I could probably pick out each instrument’s part by now. One of the clarinets is always flat and the drummer misses the beat during the reprise, but that almost makes it more fun.”

Then, he tilted his head back down to glance at Patton.

“And you,” he said.

“Me?” asked Patton.

“No matter how many times I’ve met you,” Virgil said. “There’s still something more to learn about you. You’re always surprising me and they’re always good surprises.”

“Oh,” Patton said, face warming just a bit.

“Except for the fact that you like pickles,” Virgil said, looking away. “For that you are a creature of darkness that should burn in hell.”

Patton giggled a bit and Virgil smiled back.

“That’s why so many of my drawings are of you,” he admitted. “You always manage to inspire me.”

 “I, uh, yeah, I guess that… makes sense,” Patton said, stammering a bit at the sentiment.

“Also, Roman’s about to barge into the room.”

“Wh-”

The door to the classroom slammed open half a second after Virgil spoke, causing Patton to jump despite the warning.

“Patton, where have you been?!” Roman asked, dramatically flinging his backpack onto the nearest desk. “I’ve been waiting at the flagpole for hours.”

Patton didn’t remember this day perfectly, but considering school had let out less than 30 minutes ago, he doubted the validity of the complaint. 

“You and Logan are supposed to give me a ride home since Mom went to the city to see Remus’s art exhibit”

“Ah, sorry Roman,” Patton said. “We’re a little busy…”

“You?!” Roman said accusingly, pointing at Virgil. Virgil’s head hit the desk with an audible thunk. “What are you doing here? You ruined my entire day by abandoning me and our history project, you know that?”

“God, if I knew I’d have to talk to him sometime today, I wouldn’t have done that,” Patton heard Virgil mumble into the desk.

“Roman, could we possibly use our inside voice?” Patton asked, patiently.

Roman turned to pout at him, pointing at Virgil again. “He…”

“You know the movie Before I Fall?” Virgil asked.

“The one where the girl dies and ends up in a time loop?” Roman asked.

Virgil pointed to himself, his cheek still on the desk. “My life.”

Roman’s nose scrunched up. “You expect me to believe you’re in a time loop? He scoffed. “That’s why you abandoned me this morning? What game are you playing?”

Virgil just groaned. “I could never convince him if I left history class,” he grumbled.

“He’s telling the truth, Roman,” Patton said.

Roman turned to him. “You can’t possibly believe that.”

“I 100% believe that,” Patton said, reaching forward to pat Virgil on the back.

“What makes you so sure?” Roman asked.

“Well, I don’t remember the time loops like Virgil here,” Patton said, patting him again, “but this morning I woke up in my new apartment getting ready to start my third year of university, and this afternoon I ended up back in high school right next to Virgil who’d been dead for years. So, I’m not going to question when someone tells me funky time things are going on.”

“What’s this about you being from the future?” Logan inquired, looking up from his desk.

“What do you mean he’s been dead?!” Roman asked.

“Giant magic slug monster,” Virgil said. “Going to eat the town. Magic sketchbook helps me time travel. I was planning to die to save the town. Patton got the magic sketchbook. Patton time traveled.”

“What?” said Roman.

“And this giant magical slug would be the stellmax creature in this book, yes?” Logan asked, ignoring Roman.

“You’re verifiably the smartest person in this town, Logan,” Virgil said.

“I presume you do not happen to have the next book in this series?” Logan asked.

“Nope,” Virgil said, popping the ‘p.’

“Ah.”

“And before you ask,” Virgil continued, “there aren’t any other magic books in town, and we’re currently trapped in town with no way to contact the outside world.”

“And I suppose…”

“Yes,” Virgil said. “We spent a whole 7 rounds in here coming up with every possible solution until you ran out, and I’ve tried them all. Except…” He trailed off, glancing away, “the last one.”

“Which is?” Logan prompted.

“The one where I slit my wrists to put it in a magic food coma.”

“And that’s the future I’m from,” Patton interjected.

Logan thought for a few long moments. “So, we’ve apparently exhausted every avenue with Virgil’s knowledge,” he said, pressing his fingertips together, “and the knowledge available within our physical constraints. So, there’s no use attempting to go down any of those paths. I will not come up with anything new with those limitations. Therefore, any chance we’d have to fix this issue would come from your knowledge, Patton, as you are the only new variable.”

“Sorry, we’re all just blindly accepting emo boy’s magic slug story?” Roman asked Logan. “Even you?”

“He had the code,” Logan replied.

“The code?”

Logan turned away from Roman without any more explanation. “What information have you acquired since the last time you experienced this day?”

“Uh,” Patton said, biting his lip. “Well, a lot. It’s been years. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I’d imagine,” said Logan, “that the more pertinent data would likely be temporally near the relevant incident.”

“Uh…”

“What happened directly after the end of the time loop?” Logan clarified. “The future where Virgil dies?”

“Well,” Patton said. “I didn’t know there was a time loop or that anything,” he waved his hand at the book in front of Logan, “magic was going on. Plus, it’s been years, so I don’t really remember things exactly.”

“Anything you can remember is more information than we’ve had up until this point,” Logan pointed out, sitting forward.

“Right,” Patton said, closing his eyes and attempting to cast his mind back as far as it would go. “Okay. So, from what I remember hearing, Virgil’s foster parents called the police after he was gone all night. That’d be tonight. They ended up finding him on the top of the hill outside of town. He’d, uh, slit his own wrist and bled out which I guess was the plan to overfeed the slug.” Patton twined and untwined his fingers with each other. “It was a big story,” he said. “Everyone was talking about it. Since Virgil was a ward of the state, special investigators came into town to investigate his suicide.”

“Special investigators?” Logan said. “State police? FBI? CIA?”

“Uh,” Patton said with a frown. “I don’t know. I’m not sure if they ever said.”

“And how did they investigate?”

“Er,” Patton said. “They came in trucks the next day. There were a lot of them, actually.” He paused to think. “Actually… I think I remember Ms. Jenkins, our neighbor,” he added for Virgil’s benefit even though Virgil might already know her, “saying she saw them earlier in the day before the news of Virgil’s death broke.”

“Interesting,” Logan said, “but it’s also possible the news had just not broken publicly.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed. “I don’t know.”

“And what happened that next day?”

“Hmm, well, they interviewed pretty much everyone in town who’d ever looked at him once.”

“That’s quite the investigation for the supposed suicide of a teenage boy, ward of the state or not,” Logan mused. Patton let his eyes flicker open as Logan turned to Virgil. “You know far more about magic than the rest of us, do you know if there could possibly be a magical organization that would help in issues such as a stellmax attack, or at the very least one that would clean up the damage after one?”

“I…” Virgil said. “I mean, maybe. I know there is a magical society. Mom and Dad used to talk about basically a council of people that acted sort of like a governing body.”

“A governing body implies there are very likely people working for them. Considering the general public is unaware of magical goings-on, it is even more likely there is some sort of clean-up crew that came into town to investigate what had happened and ensure no one knew anything was amiss with Virgil’s death.” He thought for a moment. Then he looked at Patton. “Did they interview you?”

“Yeah,” Patton said. “Actually a few times, more than most people.”

Logan titled his head. “Why?” he asked.

“I’m not sure exactly,” Patton said. “There was one investigator, Janus Lial. He seemed to think I knew something about Virgil or was connected to him more than I was letting on which was, sort of true, I guess.” He glanced at the sketchbook sitting innocently on the desk next to Virgil’s hand. “I didn’t know how much at the time, but it was true that I was hiding the fact that Virgil had given me his sketchbook right before he'd died.”

“Ah, yes, the sketchbook,” Logan said, following Patton’s gaze. “I assume since you marked the section on ‘time anchor’ that this is your time anchor.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, his hand reaching over to flip idly through a few pages before letting it close again. “It’s the only physical object that remains unchanged through the loops.”

“Wait,” Patton said, an idea slowly creeping into his mind. He wasn’t sure if the sketchbook remained the same only within the time loops or with time travel in general but… He grabbed the sketchbook from Virgil’s grip.

“What?” Virgil asked, startled as Patton started to flip through the pages.

“Janus gave me his business card in case I remembered anything else after my first interview. I stuck it in the back of the sketchbook in case I ever decided to come clean about it. I don’t know how the sketchbook works, but if it can keep things like pencil markings and paint through time travel, maybe it’d also keep that.”

He flipped to one of the last pages where the business card had been stuck and basically forgotten about all of those years ago. The business card was there, though it wasn’t a business card anymore. It looked like an image that had been printed on the page, but it still had all of the information the card had once had.

“It’s here.”

“So,” Logan said. “If he really is a part of some agency that cleans up magical messes, we could contact him, and perhaps he could help.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Slight problem. He’s definitely outside the city and any message trying to go out of town will be blocked.”

“Right,” Logan said. “So, we would have to somehow get out of town in order to call him.”

“Which I’ve already learned many, many times is not possible with what we have in town,” Virgil said.

“But,” Patton said, “we have something extra this time.” He gestured to the sketchbook laid out in front of him.

“The sketchbook?” Logan said. “I understood that it had been here the entire time.”

“Yeah,” Patton said, “but Virgil accidently gave it an extra magical boost when he gave it to me.” He looked at Virgil. “It’s a protection charm basically, yeah?”

“It is,” Virgil said, his eyes starting to narrow.

“And it’s for me. So it’d work best with me.”

Virgil’s lips pursed, clearly not liking where this was going. “Well, yes.”

“How’s the slug keeping us in town?” Patton asked. “You said it basically swallowed us, right, so we’re in something.”

“Yeah, it’s like a membrane covered in stomach acid.”

“Would stomach acid burn me if I was holding this?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at him “Absolutely not,” he said. “You are not doing what I know you’re thinking about doing.”

“It sent me back through time to save my life once,” Patton pointed out. “I think it could get me out of the mouth of a slug monster.”

“There’s no way we could know that,” Virgil said, standing up from the desk. “Magic interacts weirdly with magic. The slug eats magic! For all we know, it’d just swallow you and the book whole, and we’d all be doomed, without even a time tether.”

“The sketchbook was enough to undo the damage the slug did over and over again. Why couldn’t it get me through once with the extra boost?”

“That’s not how it works!” Virgil said.

“Sorry, what is this protection charm?” Logan interrupted.

“It’s called a praetectio charm. I’m not even sure how they’re made, let alone how I managed to make one, but I did for Patton.”

“Well,” Logan said. “The stellmax is a formidable threat from what I discerned from the passage I read on it, but it is by no means a cosmic horror or undefeatable.” He looked at Virgil who looked quite cross at that statement. “Perhaps it seems so at this point to you based on your inability to defeat it permanently with your current knowledge and resources, but if this protection charm is truly powerful, it might work.”

“I’m not risking Patton for a chance.” Virgil argued back. “I agreed to try one more time for Patton, but not if it risks him.”

“Could someone else use the book to get out?” Roman asked.

“Volunteering, Princey?” Virgil asked skeptically. Roman narrowed his eyes and Virgil snorted. “Leave your hero complex at home. It only works for Patton.”

“Even if it doesn’t work, can’t you just undo it?” Roman asked. “Isn’t that how time loops work?”

“Even if I have the magic for another round,” Virgil said, “there’s no guarantee that the time loop will still work the same on him when he’s from the future. Or if he manages to get out of the town, I’m not sure if resetting time would bring him back into town or if he’d get trapped outside. I don’t know what memories he’d have or what could happen. Not to mention if the time anchor gets destroyed.”

“We have to try,” Patton said.

“No,” Virgil said, blankly. “We don’t.”

Patton decided he was done sitting at a desk and looking up at Virgil. He stood himself and grabbed the sketchbook, clutching it to his chest. “I have to try,” he decided. “Come along and help if you want.”

Virgil frowned at him. Patton frowned back.

“I am a scientist,” Logan said, interrupting their frowning contest. “We will not throw him directly into stomach acid and see if he explodes. We could perhaps just have him stick a finger in and see if the proposed plan is even viable.”

“It’s not worth the risk. I should just handle this in the way I know will work.” Virgil looked directly into Patton’s eyes. “The way we know will work.”

Patton scowled at him.

“You mean, you die?” Logan confirmed.

Virgil clenched his jaw. He nodded decisively.

“Have you considered,” Logan said after a moment of thought, “that you are not the only autonomous person here. I know it is hard to remember in the best of times, let alone when you have repeated the same day so many times that people begin to appear like computer programs, but outside of this time loop, people are people. They grow and change and make their own decisions. Patton is the only person outside of this looping day you have met in a long time. You should listen to him. It is his choice to risk possible harm when it could save lives, just as you have made that choice yourself multiple times.” Logan titled his head, peering at him from behind his glasses. “It’s his choice to try, and I think the person he’s trying to save is worth the risk.”

Virgil stared at him, clearly surprised. “…When did you become a philosopher, dude?”

“People can always surprise you,” Logan said with a small smile.

“Apparently,” Virgil agreed, still clearly a bit thrown. He looked back at Patton, who did his best to look determined. Virgil sighed after a moment. “We test to see if it’s even possible,” he conceded. “If it’s not, we go back to plan A.”

“If it’s not, we try something else,” Patton insisted.

“Sure, Pat,” Virgil said, clearly not agreeing, but not arguing. That was enough for now.

“Just so everyone knows,” Roman butted in, “I still am not 100% believing this, but let’s see what I think when I see the giant slug mouth.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Part 4

My Masterpost.

[genshinfanboy]

A Special Meeting.

|Hello everyone. I know it's been awhile. My apologies about that. I was working on some irl stuff and didn't have time to write. I'm back. I had changed my rules slightly for requests. They are still closed. I'll make an update post soon. This one-shot is fairly indulgent for me. It is fairly long so be warned about that. Anyways please enjoy and as always feel free to change the pronouns to fit your own. Have a good day or night. :)

Albedo x Cryo! Male reader.

Warning: minor Spoilers for characters stories.

Albedo was sitting in the library reading some books. He was looking into something he had ran into at Dragonspine. He had a feeling it had to do with Festering Desire. He gave a small sigh. This small research task would become that much more tedious if the Calvary Captain decided to visit the library that day. He was looking through the shelves to find some history books. They should help him solve this strange occurance. He walked around the library reading the spines of books to see what he's looking for. As he was walking he heard Lisa talking with a voice he didn't recognize. "So cutie would you like to be Lisa's little helper today?" She said. Albedo pitied the poor person who was being roped into helping Lisa. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he was curious about the other person Lisa was talking to. The person seemed overly polite.

(Y/N) gave Lisa a small smile. "So Miss Lisa is this why you asked me to come here today? I'm not going to have to make a run for over due books am I?" He asked. He shifted slightly on his feet. He didn't like just standing still. He watched Lisa's face closely to gauge if his initial thought was correct. She gave a small laugh and crossed her arms. "I don't need you to do that today Cutie. I do have some potion recipes I'd like to have you look at while you're here. You don't visit Mondstadt very often after all. Make me wonder if you even need your old teacher after all." She answer. "However if you want to make book runs I won't stop you. I am more than happy to keep you here longer. Maybe we can even reopen the lessons you missed while being gone?" (Y/N) got a bit worried as he saw his old master's smile turn into a bit of a smirk. He quickly shook his head putting his hands up. "I think helping you with the potions will be enough today. I'll make sure to send letter more often and visit more. No need to reopen the lessons. So do we need to go to your lab for the potions or would you like to go to the Alchemy table in the middle of toqn?" He quickly stated. He wanted to change the topics so Lisa wouldn't get any ideas.

Albedo listened to the conversation a bit long. Something about the person talking to Lisa seemed intriguing. His ears picked up the part about potions. He was interested in the potions and decided to walk towards the voices. "Pardon my intrusion. I happened to over hear your conversation. Is it possible for me to join in on the potion creation?" He asked approaching the two. His eyes met will the person talking with Lisa. He looked at them for a second their features seemed enticing. He received a look from the unknown male. The look was a bit hard to decipher. "Oh Albedo! I didn't know you were here. You're welcome to join us. This cutie has been all over Teyvat and is quite the genius." Lisa greeted with a smile. Her voice definitely surprised. He observed the other male turning slightly red. "I'm not that smart Miss Lisa. It's a pleasure to meet you I'm (Y/N) (L/N)." The other male held out a hand to him. "No it's mine. My name is Albedo." He said taking the other's hand. "Shall we to the potions?"

(Y/N) looked at the light haired person. Albedo was definitely attractive. He was definitely interested in the other. He glanced at the blue eyes shyly. He hoped he wouldn't be caught staring as the three were walking. He wondered if Albedo was apart of the knights. He wasn't too fond of most knighted. Maybe Albedo would be one of the ones he liked. They made it to Lisa's lab. (Y/N) watched her pull out the recipe for the potion and hand it to him. "This was left in one of the returned books recently. I've been having issues trying to figure out what it is. Some of the ingredients aren't things I've recognized. Read it through and let me know what you think." She said. He started reading through it. He felt his cheeks heat up as he noticed Albedo was close to him reading over his shoulder. As he read through the ingredients of the potion he noticed something strange. On the worn out piece of paper there was a faded instruction. It was barely legible. "Miss Lisa there's a need for a cryo vision energy for this recipe. I find that a bit strange. There is an ingredient from every nation. I'm pretty sure that I have enough of all of the ingredients to make one potion. Another thing I noticed is the instruction at the end is rather off for some of the ingredients. It's quite faded and was hard to decipher at first between Cryo and Pyro. Though I am certain it says Cryo. It's odd to use cold rather then heat to combine everything." He explained. He barely noticed Albedo step a bit closer to him to get a better look. His face became a bit more red. He was praying to the archons that his old teacher wouldn't notice.

Albedo leaned closer to see what (Y/N) saw. It was a rather unique. He was impressed with how quickly the other had read the recipe. He finished reading finally and stepped back slightly. "That is fascinating. There is no name or description of what the potion does. Perhaps one of us can drink it to find out the effects. It could make for a new discovery." He explained. He did wish to see this through until the end. "Well Cutie it seems you are the perfect little helper for this task." Lisa said wrapping her arms around the other. Albedo watched his (e/c) eyes widened. They were a lovely color. "May I just observe while you make the potion." He said. The other two in the group nodded. (Y/N) started working skillfully making the potion. Albedo was watching him. He brought his sketchbook out and started drawing the sight. After a few minutes it was done. He smiled as he looked at the sketch of the other male. He watched as the potion was also completed It glowed a nice light blue color. He stepped closer. He set his sketch book down to look at the potion. He noticed little snowflakes it as well. Were they from (Y/N)'s cryo energy? He looked up at the other two. Lisa and (Y/N) seemed to be looking at something. He followed their line of sight and saw them looking at his sketch. He saw the other male blushing like crazy. "Oh my apologies for drawing you without permission. I did it without thinking." He said with a very faint blush on his cheeks.

(Y/N) could detect a hint of embarrassment. "Oh no it's fine the entire drawing is very beautiful. I'm very impressed." He quickly said to relieve him of the embarrassment. "Who should test the potion?" He was a bit shy. "I think you should darling. You did most of the work after all." Lisa said with a smile. He was a bit nervous to try it. Though it shouldn't be that bad plus his curiousity over took his worry. He gave the old arch mage a nod and grabbed it. He uncorked it and starting putting it to his lips. The moment the rim touched his lips his wrist was grabbed by someone stopping him from drinking it. He looked up in surprise his (e/c) irises meeting the beautiful blue eyes. "Wait I just wish to clarify something before I allow you to ingest that. All of the ingredients are safe to ingest correct?" He said in a worried tone. (Y/N) would be lying if he said his heart didn't skip a beat at the tone of Albedo's voice. He gave a smile to the other. "I don't carry any herbs or anything that are lethal to others. They tend to interact poorly with some of the herbs I always carry for medicinal use. Thank you for your worry though." He said giving Albedo a soft smile. The two shared a look. "I'd still feel more comfortable if I was the one to ingest it." He said. (Y/N) started thinking for a second. "How about a both drink half and then Lisa can monitor us if anything goes wrong?" He suggested.

Albedo let out a sigh. "You certainly are a stubborn person." He hid his small smile. "Well let me drink it first." He said holding out a hand. He saw the (e/c) male place the bottle in his own hand. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did. It was truly strange. He found a strange infatuation with this person. Perhaps it was the other's thought process. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the man he was thinking about. "Hmm I wonder if since it uses a cryo vision to combine things if it may affect vision holders differently." He said. Lisa watched eagerly. "If it does then this potion could potentially be dangerous." She said with a hand to her chin. Albedo gave Lisa a nod before drinking half of the potion. It was very sweet which made him slightly happy. He didn't feel any immediate effects. "The taste is sweet. However I haven't felt anything immediate happen." He said to the others. The former Arch Mage and the other male seemed interested. He watched the other male down the rest of the potion. "Yuck that's super bitter......" his sentence was cut off when he started staring at Albedo. The Alchemist definitely wary of the stare. "Is there something on my face?" He inquired. The other quickly shook his head. "No it's just that the potion seems to be affecting me faster than it might be affecting you or something. Is it because I had made ......" the other's voice seemed to trail off. He noticed swaying. Lisa must've too since she quickly put her hands on (Y/N)'s arms to stabilize him. Albedo quickly rushed over and checked for anything dire. Soon there was a puff of light blue smoke around the three. When the smoke had cleared a teen stood where (Y/N) should've been. Something clicked in Albedo's head. So that's why he had been so infatuated with someone he thought he hardly knew. This was someone he met once before. They had spoke for hours on different topics when they were teenagers. (Y/N) was the person Albedo cared very deeply for in his youth before he met Alice and Klee. (Y/N) was Albedo's first love. He was once again snapped from his thoughts by the person he was thinking about. "? I thought you and your master had left. I was waiting for you." The teen said with a frown. "I am sorry for leaving you back then. I assure you it won't happen again." He said giving a reassuring smile. He meant what he said there's no way he wanted to lose the other again. He looked at Lisa who seemed confused. Before another clouds of light blue smoke appeared. (Y/N) was standing between the two looking slightly confused. "Wait were you the boy (Y/N) talked endlessly Albedo?" Lisa asked with a smirk. She saw both boys go bright red. "Miss Lisa I asked you not to mention that." He said.

As the conversation died down there was one thing for certain. Albedo wasn't going to lose (Y/N) a second time.

[mintaka14]

This is the start of my newest multi-chapter Lukanette story, and a Dammit Quick! fic. To the LBSC crowd - you’re all a pack of enablers, so have some Disney music-nerd angst/fluff with a Julerose wedding for good measure.

See the Light

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter One – All Those Years

 Luka Couffaine got the shock of his life when, six months before his sister’s wedding, his past walked onto the boat. She moved with an assurance that she’d never had at fourteen. A little older at twenty-four, a little less arms-and-legs and a little more rounded curves, but still with those same devastating blue eyes.

Her hand curled on the rail, and he realised he was staring.

“Luka,” she said. “Hi.”

“Ma-ma-marinette,” he managed, and that mouth of hers lifted in a tentative smile. “It’s been a while.”

“It’s been a while,” she agreed softly. “How are you?”

He said something, he wasn’t sure what.

“I take it Juleka didn’t mention that I was coming,” she said. “I’ve offered to design the dresses for the wedding, and she suggested I come round today to talk about them. Are you… is it okay that I’m here?”

At that, Luka jolted out of his distraction and offered her a more genuine smile.

“Marinette, it’s more than okay. It’s good to see you again. You’re looking well.”

Her own smile grew a little brighter, and she flicked a quick glance down and back up to meet his eyes again. “So are you.”

“Marinette! You made it!” Rose’s shriek cut off any response he might have made. Rose barrelled up the steps from the galley and past him to engulf Marinette in a tight hug, with Juleka not far behind. Luka had a moment to collect himself while they caught up. All in all, he thought he’d handled it pretty well. He hadn’t actually swallowed his tongue.

Marinette flashed a brief, rueful smile at him over her shoulder as Rose towed her below deck, leaving Luka to pull his scattered thoughts together. He hadn’t seen her in ten years and she could still bowl him over at first sight. He turned absently to the stack of papers he’d been working on when she arrived, barely seeing them.

He hadn’t made much progress half an hour later, and gave up, heading down to the galley. A burst of laughter drew his attention and in the other room he could see Marinette wielding a tape measure around his sister with brisk efficiency, while Rose sat on the table, swinging her legs as she flicked through a plain black sketchbook. He’d seen plenty of the same type of book back when he’d been spending a lot of time with Marinette all those years ago. He leaned in the doorway, unnoticed, watching Marinette at work.

It had always been hard to define exactly what made Marinette so overwhelming whenever he saw her. Maybe it was the sense of intensity and creative fire, as if her skin could barely contain everything that she was, or the fierce, giving heart that shone within her. Maybe it was the endless blue of her eyes that spoke to him of a limitless horizon. It seemed like none of that had changed.

What had changed was the dizzying rush he felt as she bent to pick up something and he found himself following the tight curve of her jeans and the contour of her strong, lean legs. He jerked his wayward gaze away, trying to fight down the heat in his cheeks and the fleeting speculation about what it might be like to have those legs wrapped around him, and those beautiful eyes of hers on him while he … God, Couffaine, get your mind out of the gutter! It had been ten years since he’d last seen her, and these were not appropriate thoughts to be having barely thirty minutes and less than a handful of words of conversation after she’d turned up in his life again.

She had always been a pretty girl, but that was nothing to the gorgeous woman she’d grown into.

He would have bet money that the jeans hugging those legs like a second skin were her own design, and the silky red shirt sliding artfully off one shoulder but never quite falling looked like it had come straight from the fashion week runway. The way Marinette filled it, though, was far more distracting than any model could have ever made it.

The pigtails were another thing that was gone, but he didn’t spare them more than a moment of nostalgia, because the blue-black satin of her hair was caught up in a knot that left the smooth line of her neck bare, and that was a whole other train of thought that he cut off quickly. He looked up to find that she was watching him with a quizzical expression, and he managed to answer it with a smile of his own before Rose noticed him standing there.

“Luka!” she called out. “You have got to see what Marinette’s come up with for us!”

She was practically bouncing, and shoved the sketchbook at him. He looked at Marinette, one eyebrow raised in a question, before he opened it.

“If Marinette’s okay with that,” he said. Marinette’s mouth lifted in a smile at that.

“Marinette’s okay with that,” she told him, and he opened the cover. The slim book was full of designs and scribbled ideas and notes on wedding dresses. He’d seen her fourteen year old designs, and been impressed by them, but this… this was a whole other level, which, he supposed, wasn’t surprising. He turned through the pages slowly. He paused on one that was clearly meant for Juleka.

“Wow,” he said softly.

“That’s one of my favourites, too,” Marinette said. She’d come to look over his shoulder, and he was finding that rather unsettling for some reason. “Juleka’s so elegant, she could wear just about anything, but I like that structure for her.”

“It feels like her.” He glanced up at Marinette. “Dangerous edges, with just a bit of sweetness underneath.”

Marinette turned another few pages, and waited for Luka to find it.

“Rose,” he grinned back at her. “Channelling her inner Disney princess?”

“The brief was Sleeping Beauty, live action, but more -” Marinette gestured extravagantly, opening her eyes wide, and from the table where she was perched, Rose stuck out her tongue at them.

“It’s my wedding, and I’ll princess if I want to,” Rose sniffed.

Luka glanced back at the sketch, and was impressed all over again. Marinette had somehow turned flowers and glitter and pink and Rose into a few lines of charcoal and caught it on the page. Her own special brand of magic.

On the other side of the room, Juleka looked up from her phone.

“I’ve just ordered takeaway, and Ivan and Mylène are on their way,” she told them, and levelled a look at Marinette. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

By the time Marinette had been talked into it, and Ivan and Mylène had turned up in a bustle of exclamations and hugs and chatter, Luka had recovered something of his equilibrium. As darkness fell over the river and the lights strung up across the boat spilled a soft light over the deck, Luka handed Marinette a glass of wine and settled into the deck chair beside her.

“You’re wearing a tie these days,” she said with a hint of mischief, and he glanced down at the shirt he’d rolled up over his tattooed forearms and the tie he’d forgotten he was still wearing. “I never pictured you in the kind of career that would need a tie.”

He pulled himself together enough to smile easily back at her. “Well, it’s been a while. A few things have changed. I see you’re not wearing those pigtails anymore,” he teased her, and her hand went to the soft satin twist of her hair.

“No.” Marinette leaned back in the chair, her wine glass in hand, and her eyes were on Rose and Ivan arguing amicably about something. There was an indefinable sense of distance in her that had never been there when they were kids, and he wondered what had happened to put that there.

“So when did you get back in touch with Jules? She didn’t mention that she’d seen you.”

“I was showing a couple of pieces at something Juleka was modelling at a while ago. We bumped into each other backstage, and when she mentioned that she and Rose were getting married I offered to make up the dresses for them. My wedding present to them,” she said with a self-conscious smile, and Luka couldn’t help a soft laugh.

“Only you would do that for someone you haven’t seen in years.”

“They’re still friends.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Like you wouldn’t do the same.”

Rose was standing on a stack of crates now, singing something about rainbows, while Juleka hooked an arm around her to keep her from overbalancing and Mylène snorted with laughter. Marinette looked over at them a little wistfully.

“It’s nice to be back in touch with the old Kitty Section crew,” she admitted. “It was nice to reconnect with Juleka… and you. I’ve missed that.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Luka said quietly. “Do you see much of the old school crowd?”

Marinette shrugged. “Not really. I run into Adrien from time to time. I see him at the fashion shows sometimes, but honestly, once we get past the awkward reminiscing about collège, and industry stuff, we don’t really have a whole lot to talk about these days. I’ve sort of lost touch with everyone else.”

“How about Alya?” he asked. Luka had never really warmed to the brash journalist-in-the-making, with all her Adrien-schemes, but she’d been best friends with Marinette back in the day.

“No.” The one word was oddly expressionless. “I haven’t see her in a few years.”

There was a heartbeat when he thought she was going to say something else, then those lashes of hers dropped. Instead, when she looked up again there was that mischievous spark in her eyes again, and she said, “So what convinced you to put on a tie? Although I notice you didn’t get rid of your blue hair.” Was that an approving note in her voice? He ran his hand a little self-consciously through the longer, teal-tipped sweep of his dark hair, rubbing at the shorter hairs at the back of his neck. “What are you doing these days?”

“Playing the occasional gig whenever I get the chance, selling my music from time to time, teaching…”

“Teaching?”

He named the lycèe.

“Lucky students.” Marinette tilted her head to regard him speculatively, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “I’m having a hard time seeing you as M. Couffaine, though.”

“Just Luka. I’m the cool teacher that half the faculty hates because I undermine authority.”

“And the other half madly crush on,” Marinette suggested, and Luka felt himself flush. She could still throw him off-balance, all these years later, although it was in a different way now. The fourteen year old Marinette he remembered would never have been able to say something like that without self-combusting, but here she was, watching him with that mischievous glint in her beautiful blue eyes, and it was just another reminder that things had changed.

“What about you?” he deflected. He gestured at the sketchbook she’d left on a nearby table with her handbag. “Following the dream?”

She gave a wry little smile. “Oh, I got through my degree in fashion design somehow, and I’ve been running a bespoke atelier out of my bedroom. It’s not huge, but it pays the bills, and at least it gives me a certain amount of … flexibility.” Luka couldn’t understand the slight twist of her mouth at the word, but she had it smoothed out before he could be sure he’d really seen it. “And Ja… a few high profile people have been very kind and sent work my way.”

Luka felt certain he knew who the celebrity had been. For that alone, he could forgive his father a lot. There was a long silence while Marinette contemplated her empty wine glass, then she met his eyes.

“You have no idea how sorry I am that I broke up with you like that, right when you were going through everything with... I just made everything worse, and it wasn’t fair on you. I never really found a way to tell you that I was sorry for everything.”

“Marinette, no!” Luka straightened in his deckchair, a faint frown crossing his face. “We were kids. I’ve always felt badly that I put you under more pressure when you were clearly having a hard time with something.”

“There was a fair bit of that going around,” she conceded, and let out a shuddering breath that he didn’t realise she’d been holding. “But you have nothing to apologise for, you had every right to be upset about how I treated you. I regret a lot of things about back then.”

“I don’t regret that we tried,” Luka said with unintentional intensity, and Marinette’s eyes widened a little. “But I do regret that I lost you out of my life altogether. You always had the most fascinating way of seeing things, and I missed just hanging out and talking to you.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me after all that. And I thought it was saf -“ she cut herself off abruptly, changing what she’d been going to say, “- better if I stayed away.”

He shook his head, but didn’t say anything in response.

She gave him a sidelong look. “I never really got the chance to ask you, did you… how did things go with Jagged in the end? Do you talk to him?”

Luka’s expression turned wry. “It’s complicated. It’s always complicated with Jagged, but we talk a bit. He’s going to be there for the wedding. Not sure how that’s going to go.”

Marinette made a sympathetic noise. He thought for a moment that she was going to ask him for the details, but instead, with another swift, perceptive glance from those blue eyes of hers, she changed the subject.

“So what’s teaching like, M. Couffaine?” she asked lightly, and he settled back to tell her some of his stories, enjoying the ripple of laughter he drew from her over his students’ antics, and the chuckles she surprised out of him with her own tales about clients and their most outrageous demands. He had no idea how late it had grown when the conversation was interrupted by a chorus of phones chiming all at once from various corners of the Liberty. Ivan was the first to reach his.

“Akuma alert,” he sighed. “Aw, man, they’ve shut down septième. Traffic getting home is going to be hell.”

“What’s the bet that it’s the Eiffel Tower again?” Juleka muttered.

Mylène was shaking her head. “Hawkmoth, and now Swallowtail, and there was that weird thing with the rats a few years ago, and the government keeps pretending that there’s nothing they can do as long as they can just dump it all on Ladybug and Chat Noir to deal with the problem. We’re still working on getting subsidies for mental health therapies, but they keep stonewalling us.”

Marinette was getting to her feet.

“I really should go,” she said reluctantly, and Luka stood as she gathered up her bag and sketchbook. “It was… really nice to catch up again, Luka. It’s been far too long.”

“Oh, but you’ll be back again soon, right?” Rose cut in before Luka could say anything. “There’ll be fittings for the wedding dresses, and we’re not letting you lose contact again like that. We’ve missed you, right, Luka?”

Luka ignored Rose’s unsubtle nudge, and Marinette said her goodbyes to the rest of their friends.

“It’s good to see you again, Marinette,” he told her, and accepted the light bise she brushed against his cheek. He caught a hint of vanilla and sugar as she leaned in, and oh hell, it suddenly hit him why the smell of cookies had always left him with a faint and peculiar sense of homesickness when his mother had never baked a cookie in her life. He closed his eyes briefly, and let Marinette go before he could do something stupid.

Luka watched her safely down to the dock, and he absolutely was not fixating on the sway of those jeans as she walked away, holy crap, and turned back to meet Rose’s hopeful and utterly transparent look.

“So-oo,” his future sister-in-law said with overdone nonchalance. “You and Marinette looked like you were having a good time together.”

“Don’t go getting ideas, Ro.”

“Rose,” Juleka muttered warningly from the bench where she was sitting, but Rose ignored her.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said innocently. “I just want you to be happy Luka. It looked like you were really happy tonight. And it was great to see Marinette again.”

“No ideas,” he repeated, and Rose gave him a look of deep disappointment. She started collecting the empty takeaway containers, while Luka rounded up the glasses. Rose dropped a kiss on Juleka’s mouth on the way past, and flitted down into the galley. Juleka heaved a put-upon sigh, and swung herself gracefully to her feet, scooping up a couple of stray cushions.

Luka picked up Marinette’s wineglass, with the soft pink imprint of her lipstick.

“You didn’t mention that Marinette would be coming round,” he said, his back to his sister. “You didn’t mention that you’d been in touch with her again.”

Juleka shrugged, and dumped the cushions in one of the storage boxes on the deck. “Didn’t think it mattered. It was ten years ago. You’re not still hung up on what happened back then, are you?”

“No, of course not.” And he was pretty sure that was true. This felt like he’d been blindsided by Marinette Dupain-Cheng in a whole new way.

[sturchling]

Salt-Fic September Day 26: Abandoned

Marinette was numb as she realized what had happened. This was horrible. The class had abandoned her in Gotham, alone. To think everything had been going well. The class had been nicer to her, and Lila wasn’t actively trying to ruin her time on the trip. In retrospect, that should have been Marinette’s first clue that something was wrong. She couldn’t believe this, and it had all happened in the course of two days.

The class was trying to come up with a place to go for the end of the year trip. Lila had become the class representative a few months back, when the class had started to believe the worst in Marinette. Lila had turned this into a class discussion in the guise of including the whole class in the decision. In reality, she didn’t have any good ideas and just wanted to steal someone’s idea to avoid the class’ irritation. But no one in the class had any good ideas either. Marinette sat in the back of the room just listening to the chaos of the class’ discussion.

 While she may not be the class rep anymore, she still doesn’t want her friends to be disappointed by the class trip. She had found an amazing opportunity for the class. The Wayne family was sponsoring a trip to Gotham for the class who submitted the best video essay about their collective accomplishments. Marinette spent several weeks on it, but she was able to submit a video to the contest.

 A few weeks passed and Marinette received an email from the contest. Her submission had won the contest! She was thrilled. She was excited to tell everyone, but then she realized that she shouldn’t. With the way the class thought of her now, they would likely immediately reject the idea purely because she suggested it. Instead she sent the information to Mrs. Bustier and asked her not to say who won the contest. Surprisingly, she agreed to her request and didn’t say anything.

 Lila had no idea who won the contest, but she didn’t care. This was perfect. Lila immediately claimed the credit for winning the contest. “It was hard to write the essay through the pain from my sprained wrist, but I did it for you guys.” The class fawned over Lila, thanking her for her dedication. Meanwhile, Marinette just rolled her eyes. The information Mrs. Bustier sent the class specifically said that it was a video essay contest, not a writing contest. How could the class not realize this was a lie? They had the proof right in front of them. But that wasn’t important, at least the class would have a nice trip.

 That was how the class had ended up in Gotham. The trip had been going surprisingly well. Marinette had expected that Lila would hog all the attention and the class would treat her as coldly as they had back in Paris. But instead, Lila was quieter than normal and the class was chatting with her again. Marinette had hoped that meant that they had realized that Lila was a liar and were willing to be her friends again.

 Marinette was having a great time on the trip, when she met him. He had tan skin and dark hair. He was sitting in one of the halls of the Wayne Enterprises building the class was touring. He was sitting on a bench and reading a book. Marinette had been looking for a quiet place to sketch while the class ate lunch and decided to sit next to him. When she sat down, he gave her an incredulous look, as though he couldn’t believe she sat there. Then he just turned back to his book, and ignored her.

 Time went by, and the two just kept reading and sketching in quiet. Eventually though, the boy’s eyes found Marinette’s sketchbook again. He stared at the sketch which appeared to be an outfit based off Robin’s costume. “Your work is exquisite. Very detailed.” Marinette was startled by the sudden noise. “Thank you. That is kind of you to say.” “Is it based on Robin’s costume? Why did you choose that costume?” Marinette went on to discuss her process for this design. The conversations continued until the end of the lunch for the class. When the class gathered outside of the cafeteria, Marinette had to leave. But before she did, the boy, who she now knew was called Damian, asked her, “I apologize if this is too forward, but would you care to have dinner with me tomorrow night?” Marinette agreed eagerly and was looking forward to seeing Damian again.

 Marinette had no idea who exactly Damian was until later that night while speaking with Alya. “Girl, you scored a date with Damian Wayne. So, its tomorrow night? What time?” The girls spent several hours discussing the date. Alya wanted all the details. It felt like old times, before Lila ever appeared. Marinette enjoyed this time with her best friend. Alya even helped her get ready for the date, choosing an outfit and how she should do her hair and makeup. Marinette had no idea what Alya and the rest of the class was really planning.

 The next night was one of the best nights in Marinette’s life. Damian had arrived early and endured some teasing from Alya and the class as Marinette finished getting ready. They left and had a wonderful dinner. Damian even took Marinette for a walk in a nearby park, while his brothers watched from the roof tops to make sure no rouges got any funny ideas. Marinette had a wonderful time. Damian dropped her off back at the hotel, and even walked her to the door to her room. Marinette was in such a happy mood. That was until she opened the door to her room after Damian left. The room was empty. All of Alya’s things were gone. They had been sharing a room. Marinette’s things were still there, but Alya’s things were gone.

 Marinette searched the whole hotel, but didn’t find anyone from class. She went to the front desk and asked about her class. The person working the desk looked at her in shock. “You are still here? Your class already left, said there was some emergency in Paris.” Marinette panicked, expecting a bad akuma and checked for news on her phone. But there wasn’t anything. Instead, there was an unread text.

You shouldn’t have messed with Lila. Maybe this will teach you a lesson. Have a good time getting home.-Alya

Marinette couldn’t believe it. The class had abandoned her in Gotham.

 She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know how to get home. She didn’t have money to get a plane ticket, and the class must have done something to her original ticket. She called her parents and they got her a ticket for the first available flight, which wouldn’t be until tomorrow evening. Marinette spoke with the hotel staff member at the desk, to see about staying in her room one more night. But they told her that someone else had already checked into the room for the night. Her stuff was brought to her from the room and she didn’t know what to do now. She had no where to stay for the night.

 Marinette realized she had only one option. She gathered her stuff and went to the Wayne Manor. When she arrived, she was greeted by an older man who stared at her inquisitively. “Good evening. I was having dinner with Damian earlier tonight. Something has happened and I didn’t know where else to go, may I please speak with him?” The butler looked at her warily, but did let her in the manor. He led her to a parlor and went to fetch Damian.

 A few minutes passed and he returned with Damian following with a confused look on his face. “Marinette? What happened? Why are you here?” Marinette explained everything that had happened since Damian dropped her off. “So, they just abandoned me here. I already have a flight booked for tomorrow night thanks to my parents. But I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight. I’m sorry to impose, but I didn’t have anywhere else to turn.” Damian was furious. How dare the class do this to her?

 Alfred had gone to get Bruce and fill him in on the situation. Bruce came into the parlor as well, to see Damian comforting an upset Marinette. Bruce approached the young couple, “Of course you may stay here tonight Marinette. After all, my family sponsored your class’ trip. That makes you my responsibility until you return to Paris. Make yourself at home. Now, I think I will go call your parents and tell them you are staying here with me.”  Marinette felt at ease, knowing that things were being handled.

 Marinette was returned to Paris in the morning, but she never returned to Francois Dupont. Her parents pulled her out of that school immediately after they learned their daughter had been left behind. She was now enrolled in an arts school that Chloe and Adrien had transferred to before everything in Gotham had happened. She also spent a lot of time in Gotham when she was on a break from school. She had to visit her boyfriend obviously. While Damian wished she had transferred to Gotham, he was happy that Marinette was in a better school. Marinette was happier than she had been in a long time.

  Lila ended up being exposed a few months after the Gotham incident. Marinette never got the details of how it happened, she only found out because the class showed up to try and apologize to her. Marinette stopped them, “I accept your apology, but I can’t fully forgive you. You abandoned me in one of the most dangerous cities in the world. You didn’t care at all what happened to me. I had no where to stay that night and no way home. I could have been really hurt. I’m sorry but we can’t be friends anymore, I can’t be friends with people that would do that to me.” The class didn’t like it, but they accepted it. They knew what they did was unforgiveable.

 While Marinette had been beyond hurt by what the class had done, she wouldn’t have changed anything about the trip. She learned who her true friends were and who wasn’t. She had also met Damian, who she had grown much closer to over the months after the trip. She was the happiest she had ever been and was glad that everything had happened the way it did. She was living an amazing life, with friends and family that cared for her and a boyfriend who truly loved her.

Hope you guys liked it! @maribat-central-official

[captainjimothycarter]

I rewatched CATFA recently and I realized that during the first chase scene Steve accidentally runs into that wedding dress shop. i think it would be a very endearing story idea if Peggy got a wedding dress from that same shop 🥺

 Oh my god???? Yes, please! Your mind!! I am soooo sorry. This is maybe not what you thought but I just couldn’t stop writing???

--

Peggy’s little smile grew as Mr. Jarvis and Ana parked them outside a few shops. Directly across the street from them was a familiar shop, the window long fixed, updated white dresses of various sizes and details sat in the window. She watched the shop owner adjust the white dress with a delicate lace trim, her eyes catching the black car across the street. Peggy smiled at the owner, giving a fond nod.

She’d called earlier this week to request the shop to herself, the owner reluctant to agree until she had heard Peggy’s reasoning.

“Are you sure you two want to go in there?” Mr. Jarvis asked for the fourth time, turning around in his seat to stare at both of them with a fond look. “There are many traditions you will be breaking here.”

“Edwin,” Ana sighed, patting her husband’s arm. “This is their wedding. Traditions are not meant to be followed. Certainly, we didn’t follow all of mine.”

Steve chuckled at the pair’s light bickering, squeezing Peggy’s hand. He rubbed his thumb for the unkempt time over her ring. It wasn’t the best out there and nor was their wedding band but it was theirs. Peggy had said she didn’t need a fancy ring to accommodate their love, she just wanted Steve and how else could he prove his love than to pass down his mother’s wedding band to her? Just this time, he’d changed the engraving inside with Howard’s help.

“I never saw the point of that tradition,” he mused while Peggy grabbed at her bag and coat. “And I’m terrible at choosing suits, so Peggy has to be there to help me.”

“No offense, darling, you’re terrible at choosing any sort of fashion,” Peggy teased, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s cheek. He lit up like the fourth of July, his face burning a bright red. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Jarvis. You two are welcome to join us. The more people’s opinion, the merrier. Steven will just say he loves every dress on me.”

“Because I do,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes as they got out of the car.

Holding Peggy’s hand, Steve stopped in front of the shop, his eyes scanning the etched words into the glass. He glanced to his left, back across the street, brow furrowing in the process. Peggy squeezed his hand and raised her brow slightly. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“This place…it looks familiar.” He couldn’t place it, not right off, like an itch in the back of his head he couldn’t quite scratch. “We’re on…”

“The old SSR base, yes. This one has long been shut down for obvious reasons.” She patted his shoulder before ushering her fiancé inside.

That’s when it hit Steve. He’d ran into this shop during the Hydra chase, when he was too clumsy with his bigger body, but all he knew was the sense of protecting people from this dangerous man who had killed Doctor Erksine. A man who trusted Steve more than he trusted himself.

His eyes looked past the mannequin in the window, to where was the old shop and underneath it, he wondered what was there. Oil stains from the weird submarine? Bloodstains from Erksine? Echos of memories that he’d never get to touch again. For Peggy, that was just four years ago but for Steve, that was a lifetime of memories ago. He was a different man. No longer so awkward and unsure, unknowing of what a world of war and the consequences that awaited him.

“Darling?” Peggy whispered, cupping Steve’s face and tilting his head to look down at him. Instinct wise Steve’s arm tightened around her waist, a little too tight and causing her breath to hitch. “Steve…the road rash…you’re touching it.”

His arm instantly pulled back, but still stayed lightly touching her. The blonde’s eyes fell to hers, a little clearer and more in the present. “Is that why you brought us here? Out of all the shops…” Is that why she’d looked so smug?

“A tad bit, yes. You’ve avoided this section of shops and I know how…painful these memories are for you, darling but we can’t avoid it forever.” Her hand patted his cheek with a soft sigh. “That and I do adore these dresses. Are you ready?”

Tilting his head down, Steve brushed his lips over hers, causing the owner to scoff. “Am I ready to watch you try on countless dresses until you find the perfect one? Of course.”

Peggy smiled against his lips, kissing him again just because the owner seemed annoyed. She knew Steve meant those words too. “Good, because we have the whole day booked.”

--

Peggy was, if anything, always stubborn. One of the reasons why Steve loved her more than anything. He could see her enjoying pressing the owner when she seemed to ignore her requests for dresses and tried to find god-awful dresses that did nothing to flatter Peggy’s form or were not what she wanted. The owner seemed more annoyed when Jarvis and Steve stayed in the room to watch Peggy walk around the mirror with Ana’s help.

“Is this your first time trying on a dress?” The owner asked, Steve’s head picking up from where he’d been sketching on the pad he brought. Peggy had told him it to be a while. “You seem to have some…experience.”

“I do,” Peggy mused, unashamed. “I was engaged once but broke it off in order to join the war effort.” Her eyes fell to Steve who was looking right at her. He knew. They’d talked about this beforehand and while Steve had a small flare of jealousy, it was long past. “Can I try on one with less puff in the sleeves? They’re terribly itchy.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh when the woman stomped off, leaving Ana and Steve to gently help Peggy out of the delicate dress that looked more like a blanket draped over her form. Ana fixed Peggy’s slip and adjusted her curls, tsking over the small features. “I don’t think she liked that answer. She’s really…full of herself.”

Peggy’s red lips curled into a warm smile, rolling her eyes. “You have no idea. You should hear her in that room. She doesn’t think I know French, Ana has been translating for me wonderfully.” The two women shared a small laugh over that matter. “What are you sketching over there? You looked drawn into it.”

It was Steve’s turn to flush, clearing his throat. He always felt little odd sharing sketches with Peggy, even if they were simple things. This one was not. He picked up the sketchbook and passed it over to her, his hands pulled behind his back.

“Oh, darling.” Peggy’s eyes widened at the photo, her fingertips just brushing over the page to not disturb the pencil markings. “It’s absolutely beautiful. I would adore that.”

“Let me make it,” Ana spoke in a soft whisper, but with a sure enough smile. “For you, Peggy dear. It could be my wedding gift to you. I have experience in making dresses. This would be nothing to it. We’ll just need to get the material. There’s a shop next door we can go to, Edwin can take Steve to go get his matching suit. I’m thinking…ivory, yes?”

“Oh, Ana that would be perfect.” Peggy couldn’t help but to hug her friend with the sketchbook between them, looking over her shoulder to Steve’s flushed face.

--

Knocking on the door, Steve steeled himself as he heard Peggy call him in. He pulled on the stiff collar of his suit, feeling more comfortable in his dress military uniform or the Captain uniform than this one. Pinky and Happy were on the way with his metals and military jacket, at least. He just hoped they’d hurry up so he wasn’t late to his own wedding.

“Oh wow,” he breathed, stopping in the doorway. “Peggy you look beautiful. Ana did an amazing job.”

Ana hadn’t allowed him in on any of these processes of designing the rest of the wedding dress despite they were using his sketch. She waved him off and sent him pouting back to the living room while she and Peggy worked over the dress. Now he understood why.

The dress was anything but traditional, in a beautiful ivory white that made the traditional burgundy red of her lips stand out just as much as her eyes, the dark brown freckled with specks of honey. It came to her knees in a flare out as if she’d just twirled. The bodice was a beautiful, hand-stitched lace soft to the touch, knowing how Peggy despised anything that made her skin itch. Underneath the lace was the bodice, squeezing her chest tightly but comfortably. The collar of the lace hugged her neck lightly, tied together with a beautiful, simple golden pendant on a piece of ivory fabric. Around her waist was the only splash of color save for her lips, a soft red fabric, the silk pinned to the back, rather than some ridiculous bow.

Steve’s mouth quickly snapped close at Peggy’s amused look, slowly stalking to her. He wasn’t thinking. He never thought. He just dipped Peggy, right there in front of her Ana and Angie and kissed her. She giggled against his lips and kissed him back in the same instance she gently smacked his chest.

“Absolute mad man,” she laughed as Steve straightened her back up.

“Perhaps,” he teased, pecking her lips again. “You look beautiful Peggy. Fuck, I…I’m so lucky. Ana, you two did an amazing job.” He was about to start babbling if Peggy didn’t kiss him again. “I love you,” He sighed against her lips.

“Quite so,” she whispered in turn. “Or else this wedding would be a tad bit awkward.”

[hateswifi]

Rising from the Ashes: Of Titus and Twitter

So this is Part Four here is to my Master List and Part Three. Enjoy!!

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

She’s blinded by the light as the portal closes, at least she came out in an alley much less conspicuous than teleporting in the open. She looks at her phone, one in the afternoon that’s enough time to figure out where she is and a place to stay for tonight. She spoke English well due to traveling with Uncle Jagged, hanging out with Clara, and working at Gabriel. 

She walks out of the alley after she detransforming, but still wears the glasses not wanting to put them away yet. She pulled out her phone and looked up ‘Hotels near me’ the closest hotel at a decent price was Hotel of Gotham. She quickly started walking there it only being one o’clock and it was only a three-mile walk. 

The walk was uneventful and by the time she gets there, it was one-forty-five. She bought a hotel room for ninety-five dollars a night. She dropped her stuff off and went to try and find a job. She brought her sketchbook and one of the dresses she had made when she had been hiding the previous week. 

She walked into a couple of boutiques and was immediately rejected already having a full staff. She does not lose hope though instead, she looks at the list of boutiques she had written and sighed, the last one. She finds it and by the time she gets there, it’s already six o’clock. She had been job hunting for around four hours. She looks up and sees the boutique called Lucky Spot. Marinette has a great feeling about this one she opens her purse and sees Tikki. 

“You’re going to be great!” She whispered. With restored confidence, Marinette heads into the boutique with her head held high. 

“Hello madame,” Marinette said after she walked to the front. “My name is Marinette and I was hoping to speak with your boss about maybe getting a job?”

“Well, here I’m the boss. What do you have to show to prove to me that you are worthy to work here?” The woman asked, looking Marinette up and down. 

“I have sketches and this dress I made by hand last week,” she said, setting her stuff on the counter. 

“Would you be able to wait till closing time? It’s only an hour away,” The woman asked, looking at her watch. 

“Of course where would you like me to wait, Madame,” Marinette asked, grabbing her things. 

“You can wait in the back, I’ll come to talk to once I’ve closed,” she answered, showing Marinette. 

Once she was alone she sighed in relief. She grabbed her phone and dialed Chloe’s number. Chloe had promised to stay with her friends tonight when she called. 

“Hey, guys!” She said, quietly. 

“Hey, where’d you end up?” Luka asked, looking at her.

“I’m in a city called Gotham. I don’t know much about. I’m at a boutique right now called Lucky Spot waiting to talk to the owner about a job. That pretty much sums up what I’ve done today,” Marinette told them. “I’m so tired.”

“Well, it is ten o’clock here. If I were you I would learn about the city,” Kagami said. 

“I will when I get back to the hotel. Tikki is such a great support system for me and always helping me. I don’t think I would be as alright as I am right now,” Marinette smiles, looking at her little companion. 

“Awww Marinette you’re strong by yourself! I only helped a bit,” Tikki cooed, looking at her chosen. 

“Tikki is right Mar. You’re stronger than you know,” Adrien comforts. 

“I know you’ll do big things in this world. Everyone will know your  name!” Chloe encourages. 

“Thank you, guys! Now don’t worry about me. Go to bed I know it’s late there,” Marinette said with a smile. 

“You’re never a burden,” Luka smiled. 

She looked up when she heard a knock. The woman, who would hopefully become her boss, walked in with a smile. 

“Bye guys! The owner is here. I’ll call you soon I promise. I’ll keep you updated on what happens. Love you all,” Marinette finished, hanging up as her friends said goodbye. 

“Who are they?” She smiled, softly. 

“My friends from France,” Marinette smiles at her friends happy she was able to talk to them. 

“Well, now can I take a peek at your work?” The woman said, sitting down on the other side of the table. 

“Yes and by the way I never caught your name,” Marinette said, passing her book s and dress across the table. 

“My name is Diana Prince. It’s nice to meet you Marinette,” Ms. Prince said, looking at the girl. She had felt something familiar about her since Marinette had walked in. Then she had heard Marinette on the phone with her friends and distinctly heard the name Tikki. She hadn’t heard Tikki’s names since she had been back home with her mother, a previous owner of the creation miraculous. 

Marinette sat there waiting it felt like ages but had only been thirteen minutes. 

“Ms. Marinette these are quite wonderful, but may I ask why you come to me with your talent when I’m sure any of the big businesses would hire you,” Ms. Prince asked. 

“I’m going to tell you this but not for sympathy. I lived in a bakery in Paris for my first eighteen years, but my parents died in a fire. I’m not liked very much by my old classmates because of a liar, who turned my friends and classmates against me, and my parents were my only family, so I decided to leave. My friends are supportive and I love them a lot, but I couldn’t have any attachments there so I’m only keeping contact with them,” Marinette started. “I was affiliated with Gabriel, Audrey Bourgeois, Jagged Stone, and Clara Nightingale, but I want to leave everything behind including my connections with them. I was unable to start from the bottom because Jagged found me as a middle schooler and decided my designs were ‘Rock and Roll’. He then recommended me to them, so I never actually started from the bottom.”

“That’s very noble of you, but I feel as though there is something you’re not telling me. I won’t push you, but if you need someone to confide in, I can help. You have the job, by the way, you may start this Wednesday at seven o’clock sharp if that works. I have a couple of clients I will need help with,” Ms. Prince explained, standing up and shaking Marinette’s hand. 

“Thank you, Ms. Prince, you have no idea how much this means to me. I had been searching for jobs since I got here at one,” Marinette said with a smile. “Is there anything I should know about the city?”

“Please call me Diana. But also you moved to Gotham without any research?” Diana asked, looking flabbergasted. 

“I let fate decide,” Marinette answered, vaguely. 

“Oh well, I recommend you look up Gotham’s heroes and villains when you get a chance,” Diana said, leading Marinette from the backroom to the main shop.  

“Maybe that’s why I’m here. After all, fate works in mysterious ways. It was a pleasure meeting you,” Marinette said, leaving the small shop with a smile.

The next day was Tuesday and she tried to sleep in late, but with Paris being six hours ahead she woke up at six. She decided to go to the closest park which happened to be Gotham Public Park which doubles as a dog park. 

She left Tikki to sleep and placed a plate of cookies out for her before she left. She took her sketchbook with her and sat on a bench and started sketching. After about half an hour she guesses she hears a dog bark. She ignores it at first until she’s tackled by said dog. 

“Titus! Get off the pretty girl!” A man, presumably Titus’ owner, screamed. The black Great Dane dropped a red ball by her feet which she picked up and threw while yelling fetch. 

“I’m so sorry miss, Titus rarely acts up like that,” Titus’ owner says, sitting down next to her. 

“It’s fine I wanted to have a dog since I was young, but lived in a bakery and wasn’t allowed to,” Marinette answered closing her sketchbook. 

“My name is Damian and this,” He said, pointing at Titus. “is my faithful companion Titus. I guess I just never taught him how to interact with an angel-like girl.”

“Well I’m Marinette,” she blushed, adorably. “I’m average though. I already forgave you and Titus you don’t have to compliment me.”

“Well truth be told, I never act like this. I’m quite shocked I’m even talking to you. Most people would be gone by now,” Damian confesses. ‘Shut up before she—‘

Marinette giggles at the sight of the flustered boy. He looks hurt so she quickly says. “I’m not laughing at you you’re just adorable when you’re, what I’m assuming, is nervousness.”

“I’m sorry if this is straightforward, but would you like to grab breakfast? I know a small cafe,” Damian said. “You know as an apology for Titus’ behavior.”

“That would be nice. I don’t know anything about the city, but do you think we could stop at my hotel? I want to drop off my book,” Marinette asked, standing. ‘and grab Tikki’. 

“Where are you staying?” He asks also standing. 

“Hotel of Gotham just a five or so minute walk,” Marinette answered. 

“Of course, would you like me to walk with you?” Damian asked. 

“That would be lovely. I haven’t quite learned my way around yet,” Marinette said, walking towards the park’s entrance with Damian by her side. 

She dropped off her sketchbook, told Tikki what happened and then left with Tikki in her purse. She sees Damian still in the lobby when she got back. 

“Hey Mari, you ready?” He asked, opening the door.

“Yes of course,” she said with a smile and they headed to the cafe. 

When they got there Damian ordered for both of them, Marinette not knowing what was good or not. He had decided on waffles with strawberries and whipped cream for her. He had ordered himself black coffee and an egg sandwich with cheese and bacon. 

“Have you seriously not had waffles before?” Damian asked as she took her first bite. 

“My mama and papa owned a bakery so we usually just ate pastries,” Marinette smiles. “But this is incredibly good.”

“So you said you’re just adjusting to Gotham where’d you live before this? What made you want to live in the most dangerous city in America?” Damian asked, sipping his coffee. 

“I lived in Paris up to yesterday. I’m currently staying in the hotel till I can find an apartment. And about moving to the most dangerous city in America. I let fate lead me,” Marinette said, taking another bite. 

“Fate? But isn’t that a big decision?” Damian asked, raising an eyebrow while sipping his coffee. 

“Well I guess, but I didn’t have an idea of where to go, I felt lost and I ended up here, but I was able to get a job already so fate is watching over me. What about you?” Marinette asked, taking a sip of water. 

“My mother gave me to my father at the age of ten and he lived here and we just never moved. What job did you get?” Damian asked, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“This nice woman, Diana, hired me to work in her boutique and she said I could start tomorrow. I’ve wanted to design since I was young,” Marinette sighs. 

“Well I’m happy for you,” Damian said as the waiter put the check on their table. Marinette tried to reach for it, but Damian grabbed it before she could grab it. 

“Nope. Remember this is an apology for Titus,” Damian said, looking down at his dog, who was sitting under the table quietly.

As they are leaving, Damian gets a call he looks down and sees Dick’s name flash across his screen. “I apologize Marinette, but I must get going. I hope I can see you again.”

Then he rushes off Titus following shortly behind. About a block and a half away he gets into a car with Dick and Alfred, who was driving.

“Good day, Young Master,” Alfred greeted as he closes the door. 

“To you as well Alfred. What do you want Grayson? I was busy,” Damian asked, glaring at his adopted brother. 

“You’re late for a mandatory meeting. Also,” Dick pauses, a smile forming on his face. “have you checked Twitter recently?”

“I knew about the meeting and I wasn’t going to be late,” Damian huffed, crossing his arms. “I haven’t checked Twitter today, why?”

“Someone posted a picture of you holding a door for a very beautiful bluenette. Jason reposted with the #DemonSpawn’sgirlfriend and now it’s trending,” Dick smirked. 

All color left Damian’s face and he whipped his phone then clicked on his Twitter. His face somehow got paler. There was a picture of him and Marinette, he was smiling at her as he held open the hotel door. 

@GothamOfficialNews

‘Who is this mysterious girl, who somehow caught Damian Waynes’ attention. He has previously been known as the ‘Ice Prince’, but is there someone out there able to melt his heart? Who is she? We need answers!’

@realJaSonToDd

‘Look it: Demon Spawn got a girlfriend. They grow up so fast *wipes tear*. She’s adorable when can we, @GraysontheDick @BruceWaynetheOffcailMan @TimDrakeConfirmed, meet her?’

@whyisthislife

‘how come it couldn’t have been me,  @realDamianWayne?’

@stresseyandmessy

‘She’s too precious for him. also how do we know they’re dating?’

@lifebevibing

‘@stressyandmessy did you read what posted @realJaSonTodD. he said gf. ‘

@stressyandmessy

‘@lifebevibing @realDamainWayne hasn’t said anything about his mystery girl.’

Damian felt like dying. He liked Marinette, a lot. She didn’t act weird around him, she had dreams, she didn’t throw herself at him, she likes Titus, and he hadn’t gotten her number. Wait... he hadn’t gotten her number. 

“Crap. I didn’t get her number,” he slouches in his seat. 

“Mystery girl’s?” Dick asked, looking shocked. “You spent all morning with her and you didn’t bother to get her number?”

“I didn’t think of it! I was going to ask before you called,” he puts his face in his hands. 

“Ya know you could do a Cinderella thing?” Dick suggests, scooting closer to Damian. 

“No. That would be so embarrassing. I only met her once,” he pauses, flushing as he thinks of her giggle and her deep blue eyes. “No, I couldn’t do that. She doesn’t know I’m one of Bruce Wayne’s sons. I would like to keep it that way. I don’t think she would change though.”

“Are you blushing? She must be some girl,” Dick teased. 

“Ughh you don’t need to remind me,” he sighs. 

“Well pull yourself together, we are about to arrive at the meeting,” Dick said, patting Damian’s shoulder.

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

Tag list (Open):

@northernbluetongue @melhuney @ladysblackcat @sturchling @otaku4312 @g-arya @smolplantmum @bluefyoto94 @echpr @moonlightstar64@thesunanditsangel @cutechip @heaven428 @elmokingkong @kass-is-weird @niza13149 @urbanpineapplefarmer

[typinggently]

Also hi yes 3 for Napollya too (a painter, a fire, a box) because fuck yeah Napoleon as an artist au?? OR BETTER YET MAKE PERIL THE PAINTER YOOOOOOO he would have such an interesting eye no? (I enjoy art purely from an aesthetic viewpoint and maybe appreciate some symbolism or whatnot but this is all to say that I don’t actually know a ton about art but appreciate it nonetheless)

When I tell you I love both of those options…💝💝 And there is SO much to be explored. I was briefly overwhelmed with all the possibilities. Renaissance AU with a marriage proposal portrait sitting sessions?! Avant-garde artist in the 20s and nouveau riche?! In the end, I settled on the canon timeline, mostly inspired by Napoleon’s career path.

-

Art Thief and Art Forger AU

-

Unfortunately, if you want to do something extremely well, you most likely will need some help along the way. Now, that’s not the worst thing in the world. Napoleon has worked with Gaby plenty of times and she’s an absolute angel. Fantastic behind the wheel, incredible with explosives and breathtaking in a cocktail dress.

And sure, it could work with just them – Napoleon’s quick fingers and Gaby’s fast cars could run this show, no problem. But see, there’s more to a brilliant team than a thief and a getaway car.

 “Ah, you brought pink panther.” Illya doesn’t turn as they enter, doesn’t even look up from his easel. The late morning sun spills light through dust-milky windows and makes his hair glow a particularly intense shade of gold.

Peeling wallpaper, dust-sticky wooden floors and bay windows. Next to Illya, a desk covered with prints and books, some magazines. Napoleon walks around the easel to look at the display, not wanting to step into Illya’s light. “Good to see you, too. I see you did your research.” A miniature museum on Holbein, exhibited in black and white on glossy pages. In between, loose paper filled with Illya’s delicate-neat handwriting in pencil and sketchbooks with paint-stiff pages.

This time, Illya does look up, leaning to the side to glare at him from around the easel. “I always do research.” Up close, Napoleon notices traces of green paint in his hair, where he must’ve run his stained fingers through it. “How about you do yours, too?”

“Of course you do, I wasn’t trying to imply anything.” Napoleon pulls one of the loose sheets closer, but he’s not terribly good at reading Cyrillic handwriting, so it’s little more than silver ornaments on paper. There are some sketches of noses on the back and he traces them with his fingertip. “And your suspicion wounds me.”

There’s a soft rustle of cloth and Napoleon looks up to find Illya facing him, faded t-shirt and dust-stained trousers. “You’re not burning down my studio again.” He indicates the room with his brush. “It’s close to the Bücherei.”

Napoleon clicks his tongue. “Now, Rubens, that was once.”

“Rubens?” Illya scoffs. “Don’t embarrass yourself, the job is in two months.” He returns his attention to the easel, elegant nose and round chin.

Napoleon hums, pulling one of the magazines closer to page through it. “I can tell the difference between Holbein and Rubens, don’t worry. I was talking about you. You know, the self-portrait with his wife?”

He can tell Illya stopped fiddling with his palette to look at him again, no doubt frowning. “Now, I admit you’re much more handsome. He does have that wine-sweet look on his face and all that, with the rosy-plump cheeks. But the golden hair, the blue eyes, the generally dreamy expression –“

“Dreamy expression?” Illya huffs. “Be quiet, I have to work.”

Napoleon looks up, but Illya’s turning as far away from him as possible under the pretence of observing the canvas. Still, Napoleon can make out the faintest hint of a blush on the back of his neck. He lets the magazine fall closed and straightens. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, he rounds the easel again on his way to the door. By the doorway, he stops and turns. “Ah, just one last thing –“ Now, he rearranges the jacket he’s slung over his arm and his overnight bag a little to open the zipper and pull out a tin. “I picked up some tea in Leningrad. I’ll put it in the kitchen for you, yeah?”

Illya’s shoulders are a tense line and he’s very intently staring at his palette. The tips of his ears are pink. “No need. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Napoleon says, smile audible in his voice, and closes the door on his way out. In the kitchen, he first puts down the tin, then pulls a sketchbook out of his open bag.

The spine is broken and the edges rounded, the fabric thin with use. It’s too risky to flip through it here, with the danger of Gaby slipping in and interrupting him, but he can already tell that it’s going to be interesting. Bold strokes and bold colours, much bolder than what Illya has to paint now, and much bolder than what he usually says.

Napoleon may not be able to read Cyrillic, but he can read art. And other than some criminally inclined young soviet masters, he knows how to take a compliment.

 -

 I strayed a bit from the whole box/fire things but I hope it still counts… Also I put way more thought into this than I could express in such a short scene but basically: They’re in Germany to steal a specific painting and exchange it for a forgery. I was thinking of Holbein’s Portrait of Simon George of Cornwall – no clue if it was in Germany at the time, but it is now, and I love it a lot. Originally, I was thinking of having Illya paint a portrait of Napoleon in a renaissance au, which I would’ve based on that painting. But well. I love the idea of Illya as a modern, cubist type of artist but alas, he’s talented and thus has to paint the old masters. But his sketchbook is definitely crammed full of little Napoleon portraits <3<3<3

Ok that’s it. Thank you so much for the prompt!!! I hope you liked it! 💝

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 3 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr.

Chapter 3: Worries

"Sam… can you run this by me again?" he asked as he stopped searching for a moment and glanced at her. "What exactly are we looking for?"

Her response was a roll of the eyes. "I thought we went over this already… Don't you want to know what we saw last night?"

"I don't!" Tucker voiced, causing the two of them to look at him. "What? That thing was scary! For all we know, it could still be out here, and I for one, have no desire to see it again!"

"Why, aren't we brave?" The sarcasm in Sam's voice spoke volumes. In an almost immediate response, Tucker covered his head with his arms. Apparently, that tone was a verbal warning of the threat of pain. Sam could apparently be rather scary when she felt like it.

"Hey! Don't get mad at me! I just want to keep my good looks safe for the ladies! Besides, you're the one with the grudge!"

That answer just seemed to anger Sam more. "How selfish can you get? You don't even care that other people could be in danger?" Though it was true that she had sworn her vengeance on whatever they had seen, rational seemed to have come back to her in the hours after the chase. She currently just wanted to know who or what that was.

"I do… except, in my book, I come first! Besides, shouldn't this be a job for the police instead?"

"Like they're going to believe a couple of kids. We'll probably be the ones to get in trouble if we say anything. They only take it seriously if we find some kind of proof."

Danny stayed silent as he watched their fight continue. Sam did have a point; whatever it was that they had seen the night before could potentially be dangerous to anyone in the area. It also seemed unlikely that the police would believe them, since they would probably just pass it off as some kind of animal, which it definitely was not! However, he sided more with Tucker. If it wasn't for Sam's persuasiveness (aka threats), there was no way that he would have come back to the cemetery for quite some time.

He glanced around the familiar surroundings and shivered slightly. It was only about one in the afternoon, but it felt like it was much later. The shadows appeared more pronounced, the statues looked corrupted, and the air seemed stale and heavy. It was almost as if that thing's presence had managed to taint the area.

Even though he really did not believe in the so-called paranormal, there was definitely something demonic about that creature. That thought caused him to sigh. He was being silly. There was probably a very logical explanation for what he and his friends had seen. It was probably just some drifter or psychopath… which is just as comforting.

In truth, he would rather just forget about the incident and chalk it up as a bizarre situation that he never wanted to ever deal with again. He had also made a promise to himself to never again sneak out of his house at night; being scared half to death was so not worth it. However, he had this sinking suspicion that Sam was going to make him break that. Speaking of which…

"What…?" he asked after he realized that she had asked him something. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"Jeez, Danny, get your head out of the clouds." Judging by her expression and the fact that Tucker was hiding rather poorly behind a nearby bush, they had stopped arguing for the time being. "I just wanted to know if you had managed to get home okay last night. I mean, you didn't get in trouble or anything, did you? I kinda forgot to ask earlier."

He frowned for a moment. "Surprisingly… no," he replied before giving them a sheepish grin. "I… uh… fell when I snuck back through my window. If you haven't already noticed, I'm kinda klutzy. Winston's use to that, but it's a little weird for me to fall at night. If he did wake up, I guess he assumed I fell off the bed again."

Sam shook her head. "Again…?"

"I don't do it often!" he replied in an embarrassed protest. "Just a couple times a year!"

"And that makes it so much better."

"Um, I don't mean to pry or anything," Tucker interrupted as he came over. Apparently, he now thought it was safe for him to come out of hiding, though he did make sure that he was out of Sam's punching range. "But, why do you call your dad by his first name?"

That question earned another sheepish look. "Well… um… I'm actually adopted. Winston's been my guardian for as long as I can remember. Apparently, my parents had asked him to take care of me if anything would happen to them…" He sounded wistful for a moment before he sat down on a nearby bench. Raising his head, he glanced at them while wearing an expression that was unreadable. "I… I really don't know what happened to them. Winston's not very comfortable with the topic."

After a small pause, Sam glared at Tucker, who cringed. "Tucker! How could you bring that up?" she demanded as she moved closer to him.

"Sorry!" He immediately backed away from her as he raised his hands again. "I didn't know!"

That caused Danny to chuckle, which caused both of them to look at him. "It's okay, really! I don't mind. Let's just go back to searching before Tucker gets hurt."

"Tucker likes that idea!"

Sam glared at the nervous boy for a moment before poked him in the chest, "Fine, but this doesn't mean that you're off the hook."

….

"Sam!" Tucker whined about an hour later. "Let's call it a day! We haven't found anything! And besides, we promised Danny yesterday that we'd show him around."

Once again, Danny agreed with him. There were definitely less boring activities than failing miserably at finding anything. They had found nothing! It was as if there was absolutely nothing to even suggest that there had even been something other than him in this part of the graveyard within the last day. It was definitely frustrating since there was a small part of him that did want proof that he hadn't just imagined last night. Even if Sam and Tucker had seen it, maybe it had been some weird group hallucination. He had heard those were possible.

Sam glanced around again and gave a frustrated huff before she kicked the ground. "I guess you're right… even if I don't want you to be. I guess we should lea… Hey, what's that?" She pointed at something before she sprinted over to whatever it was that she had seen.

He and Tucker shared a look before they followed her. By the time they had reached her, she had picked up what appeared to be a piece of paper and was examining it. Apparently, it contained either an image or word that was holding her interest.

"Um… Sam… what… oomf!" Danny's words were cut off when Sam shoved the paper into his hands. "What the heck?"

She glared at him while she impatiently tapped her foot. "Just look at it!"

After giving her a look, he complied. At first, the only thing that caught his attention was that he was holding a rather old piece of paper. That normally would not be too weird since littering was unfortunately common, but this paper wasn't just weathered, but it also had a strange feel as if it was more along the lines of canvas than actual paper. He then noticed that there were black marks on it, which he realized was a sketch of what appeared to be some sort of figure.

He turned the paper a bit to see if he could get a better feel for the picture. It appeared to be an ink sketch of what he took to be a demonic figure with… possibly flaming hair. After a moment, he also realized that there seemed to be writing on the top of the paper, but the letters were too faded for him to make out.

"So… what do you think?" Sam asked after he had handed the paper to Tucker.

"Not much," he replied with a shrug. "Sure, it's creepy enough, but I don't think it's related to this. Papers find their way here all the time. Possibly someone lost it out of their sketchbook a while back."

She just shook her head. "Danny, I tend to do a bit of sketching myself… That's not a type of paper, if it is paper, that you commonly use. In fact, I'm fairly certain that I've never seen it before."

"Sam, you're probably over thinking things. I really don't think that it's anything out of the ordinary," Tucker told her as he gave it back to her. He then glanced at Danny and grinned. "Although Sam's usually pretty level-headed, she sometimes lets her love of anything weird run away with her."

"Take that back!"

"In this case, I don't think I will."

"Would you still say that if you weren't standing behind me?" Danny asked as he tried to turn to get a look at his friend.

Tucker gave him a serious look. "Dude, have you seen her boots? They hurt! Oh… alright." After receiving another glare, he gave up on hiding and looked over at the still irritated goth. "If it will make you happy, I'll try to find some information on it when I get home. Though, to be absolutely honest, I'm fairly certain that picture's nothing more than the product of someone's deranged… oh, I mean artistic… mind."

Try as she might, Sam couldn't resist chuckling at his comment. "Thanks. If anyone could find something, it would be you."

"I'm glad you noticed."

"Sure, I noticed. It's your only redeeming quality."

"Hey!"

"Sorry to interrupt another one of your fights," he told them as he raised an eyebrow. Their "play" arguments were throwing him for a loop. How was it possible they were still friends if that happened as commonly as it seemed? "But, am I missing something?"

Sam laughed as she waved him off with her hand. "Don't mind us. Both of us keep forgetting that you don't know any of this yet. Although he might not look like it, Tucker's amazing with technology. I swear that he could honestly bring down a satellite with that PDA of his." She then glanced over at the boy who had brought out said PDA and had begun checking it in a strangely loving fashion. "I'm actually surprised that he didn't mention it yesterday. Perhaps he was trying not to scare you way."

After a moment she placed her hand on his shoulder. "Come on! We should leave now before he starts trying to induct you into his technologic world…"

xxxxx

The door slammed which let him know that his charge was finally home. If it was any other day, he would have actually gone to greet the boy, but this was not the case. He was currently stuck on the phone listening to someone who was irritating him more and more with each passing second. Even though he was usually a patient man, it was taking all of his self control to not raise his voice at her.

"Ma'am, I understand the consequences," he told the voice on the phone tiredly as he tried to wrap up the conversation, "But I assure you, that not only am I acting on his parents' wishes, but that I am also taking very good care of him."

What the woman said next absolutely enraged him. "That remains to be seen!" was his indigent reply. "Please reserve your judgments until you or one of your people come to do that review. Now, have a good day." The woman had tried to respond, but he cut her off by slamming the phone. Those people were so tiring, but that one really knew what to say to get under his skin.

"Uh… is everything okay in here…?" Danny asked carefully as he appeared in the kitchen. His expression clearly said that he hoped that he was not in trouble.

Winston sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he sat down. "It's really nothing too important, just another call from the state. Apparently, they're now attempting to use scare tactics." He then looked at the boy and tried to smile, "So, how was your day?"

Danny shrugged as he too grabbed a seat. "Sam and Tucker showed me around town some more, and we hit the arcade for a bit before Tucker had to head home. We're going to try to get together again in a couple days."

"That's good…"

"Um… are you sure you're okay?"

He sighed as he looked up at the boy who seemed worried about the absent-minded response he had recieved. "Yeah… I guess I let them get to me more than I had thought. Anyways, how does pizza sound for dinner?"

"That sounds great!" Danny then got up and headed towards the hall. "I'm going to be in my room for a while."

"That's fine." Winston then got up and picked up the phone again. After calling the pizza place, he headed into the study and tried to relax.

Why was in the world was that man getting involved in this? He had heard the rumors that the man had begun to involve certain aspects of his many companies in some of the state cases, but until that call he did not believe that they were actually true. Due to the money that those companies held, it was going to much more difficult than he had originally thought to keep Danny. Not only that, but the head of those companies, Vlad Masters himself, had personally become interested.

According to that woman, he claimed to be a friend of Danny's parents. If that was the case, why didn't they ask him to take the boy? But, that was beside the point. Even though the man was well-respected, there was something that just did not sit right with Winston. Sure, he might be a business genius, but he had gained way too much power too quickly. There were rumors that those gains had not been made above the table, and Winston believed that they were true.

It was also known that the man was not above using underhanded tactics in court. If this case did end up going that far… there was no telling what that man might reveal. Danny's story was complicated, and even though he had done what was asked of him, it was unlikely that a jury would see it the same way, especially with how unbelievable the story really was. Most likely, Masters would corrupt the tale, making it even worse.

Then there was Danny to think about. While it's true that he had not be entirely forthcoming with what had actually happened, he had planned on revealing everything on his upcoming birthday. However, with the current mess, he was unsure what precisely to do. If he was to wait and the boy was told a corrupted story, it would most likely shatter his world. He could not let that happen, but he did not want to add stress to him, especially since there had been no indication it was true…

A sudden crash followed by a yell immediately got him out of his seat. That was….? What was that? He stood still for a moment trying to figure out from where the noise had originated when he realized that had been Danny's voice. Sure, the boy did have a tendency to trip, but there was no way that was normal.

He immediately ran to boy's room and opened the door. "Danny! Are you all right? I heard a crash!" He looked around expecting the boy to be near his chair or bed, but instead he was on the floor, plastered against the wall. His piercing blue eyes were wide and frightened.

Worried, he kneeled beside the boy, placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, and gently shook him. Unfortunately, he still did not get a response as Danny was still staring at something. His military instincts kicked in, causing him to tense and glance around the room looking for anything that was out of place. After a moment, he realized that nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but he still kept himself prepared potential surprise.

"Danny…" he whispered harshly to his charge as he continued to watch, "what happened?"

There was no sound until he heard Danny take a deep breath and move. He looked back to see the boy leaning his head against the wall. His breathing was still heavy, but it looked like the worst of the shock of whatever had happened was beginning to wear off. "Are you okay?" he asked cautiously as he glanced around again.

"Huh…?" the boy's voice was startled. Had he only just realized that he had come into the room? "Wh-what's going on?"

"Are you hurt?" he asked as he knelt down again. "Did something happen? Did you see something weird?"

At the last question, his charge tensed and glanced at his hand as if he was examining it. After a moment, he hesitantly looked back at him and shook his head. "I… I'm fine, but what's with the twenty questions?"

He raised an eyebrow at the boy. "Really? Daniel, I heard a crash and a yell from you. I was worried," he told him as he helped him to his feet. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

This time, he was answered with a nod. "I'm fine… I just … fell off the chair... and managed to knock some of the stuff off my desk…" Danny cringed slightly when he realized how weak sounding his excuse was. He then became more animated and began to push the older man towards the door. "I promise! I'm perfectly fine! N-nothing's wrong! Just give me a few minutes to clean up everything, and I'll be right out! The pizza's supposed to be here shortly, right?"

Before Winston even had a chance to attempt to get a word in, Danny shoved him out of the room and slammed to door. He remained there, a little stunned for a few moments. Whatever had happened definitely spooked the boy, it was probably nothing like he had said… but he could not help but wonder. A normal fall like that should not be so frightening.

He took another glance at the door before he headed back into the kitchen. Maybe he should watch the boy a little more closely, just in case.

[royalcordelia]

This Bed of Recall and Recollections (1/1)

Summary: Most of the time, it’s convenient to have your husband as your doctor, except for the times he condemns you bedrest. A very pregnant Anne decides to open her chest of old memories to pass her bedrest time. (A future shirbert drabble). 

Notes: Happy belated holidays @cresmix​! Here’s a little somethin’ somethin’ for you because you and your kind heart deserve it. This was a request that @shirberts-sherbert came up with, so thank you for the idea. (Also y’all follow me because I write well, not because I photoshop well, but I gave it 110%. Even if it does look a lil funky lmao). 

***

Anne knew there were bright sides to her current situation. The bed was impossibly soft underneath her, but stiff enough to support her weight against the headboard. She didn’t have to wear shoes in bed, either - an added plus. Just the thought of jamming her swollen toes into her dainty slippers as she had during the past several months had her cringing. 

You were given your imagination for times like these, she scolded herself. There are plenty of lovely things about being on bedrest. Why, I’ve had time to read all the books on my list, and then some! A bitter voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she’d read all the books on her list already - twice, some of them three times! Gilbert promised to bring home some new reading material soon, but he’d been so busy at his medical practice, that she’d long since stopped asking if he bore her any surprises. 

Now there’s a bright side worth thanking the Lord for, she decided. Not every woman, exhausted with the many weights of pregnancy, got to have her husband as her doctor. Anne argued that Gilbert was better attuned to her symptoms than any of his patients. Perks of sharing a bed with him, she supposed. There was no husband around with more compassion and love for his ever-glowing wife, even with the unpleasant oddities it brought to their relationship. 

But it also meant that when her blood pressure had spiked to dangerous heights, Gilbert had said with very firm stringency that Anne S. C. Blythe - Queen of Conquering Obstacles and Goddess of Fortitude - was condemned to bedrest. At least until the new member of the house arrived. When the decree had been made, Anne was wise enough not to argue. 

“Every time a man speaks like he’s got a sour cranberry on his tongue, it means he means business,” said Susan, their beloved housekeeper, to Mrs. Doctor Dear later that night. “And that you may tie to.” 

Anne knew her husband better than that, though. Gilbert’s word, of course, did mean business, but she knew that a tiny part of him still held onto a poisonous drop of guilt. Susan might have claimed to know the Doctor better than most, but Anne was the one that Gilbert laid his head upon, weeping into her chest that it was his fault their first baby had died. If I had just paid better attention...There must have been something I missed. How could I? My own daughter? Not even Anne’s softest touches through his hair or the honesty of her own unnecessary forgiveness could take away all of his remorse. When she’d informed him of their second chance, he’d been even more attentive than he’d been the first time. 

Thus, Anne was growing into a prisoner in her own bed. Her loving, caring husband, her jailor. 

With a sigh, Anne turned her gaze toward the window. Her soul sighed. It was golden hour, the most beloved time of day, when the PEI sun took a few moments out of its busy day to say hello to her. It always looked so sweet over the garden, the early spring buds glistening as if they had been touched by Midas himself. Against the bedposts, Anne tried to imagine the soft moss underneath her fingers or the richness of the soil of her flowers, but the mental image fell flat. 

Her window, though...Her window was only a few feet away from the bed. If she could just take a glimpse at the garden, maybe her heart wouldn’t feel so starved. 

The coolness of the floor felt wonderful underneath her heat swollen feet. With a careful hand behind supporting her back, Anne gently rose up for the first time in days. Her vision swirled, but she ignored the momentary vertigo and began to creep forward with astonishing stealth. If Susan heard her up on her feet, there’d be hell to pay, especially when Gilbert got home. Just as Anne was able to take a self-indulgent glance at her garden, a familiar voice broke through the bird-song silence. 

“Sweetheart, what on earth are you doing up?” 

Anne jolted, and she staggered like a drunken fool for balance. Gilbert was at her side before she could see him fly over to her, one hand in hers to keep her steady, the other against her back. She could sense a scolding on the tip of his tongue, but he bit his lips against it as he guided her back to bed. Settling at the edge of the bed together, Gilbert rubbed her knuckles with a tender touch. 

He could’ve begun his love-driven admonishment, but instead, he said, “A parcel came from Green Gables today. I stopped in town to pick it up.” 

Just the mention of home was enough for some of the weight on her shoulders to dissipate. Her gaze drifted from the wrapped box at the end of the bed back up to the hazel warmth of Gilbert’s eyes. He gave her his daily “ I’m home” kiss and helped her shift back into her perch on the bed against the headboard. 

“I know that bedrest isn’t the most stimulating activity in the world, so I asked Marilla to send this,” Gilbert continued, placing the parcel in her lap. 

“What is it?” Anne asked, though she had already started tearing the brown paper away. She gasped when she found the wooden box underneath, fingers grazing over the grained smoothness. “It’s the box I kept when we were in college.” 

“I remembered you had a memory box, but you never told me what was in it. I hoped whatever was inside, it could be enough to convince you to sit in bed.”

Anne lifted the lid away and the contents of box overflowed onto her lap. 

“It’s so full because I kept every single letter you sent me over four years. But there’s some sketches from when I asked Cole to teach me how to draw. Oh, and look, a few pictures too.” 

Gilbert settled at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“If it’s every letter I sent you in college, that’s more reading than all of the Jane Austen books put together. We better start now if we want to finish by the time our new gentleman arrives.” 

Right on time, Susan rapped against the door with her elbow, a tray of tea and biscuits in her hands. 

“I put the tea on the stove as soon as the doctor came home. These are the last of the biscuits you like, Mrs. Doctor, but I’m baking more tomorrow. And there’s a piece of my cherry pie for you, Dr. Dear.” 

Anne grabbed Susan’s hand before she could walk away, and pressed a firm kiss to it. 

“You’re a blessing untold, Susan, thank you.” 

When they were alone again, Anne grabbed the first thing she could find: a letter. The bluish hue of the envelope and the familiar scrawl told her what she already knew. This letter had been one of the later ones she’d received during their fourth year of college. The blue envelopes had been Gilbert’s way of trying out professional stationary, and each letter was monogrammed at the top with the initials GJB. As for the nearly illegible scrawl of her name and address, that was a bad habit he’d picked up from his medical professors. 

“When did I send that one?” he asked, peeking over from his own reading. 

“The April of 1904. I remember it without even needing to check.” 

It took a moment, but Gilbert suddenly remembered what the letter said. He could picture exactly what his desk and room looked like the day he wrote it with the clarity of a photograph. Long lost in fireplace ash, there were several burned attempts that had come before the finished product that Anne know held in her hands. 

“This is a question I had every intention of asking in person, but I find my patience has evaporated with the months our of separation,” Anne read softly. “Say that there was a velvet pouch in my pocket. Say that it contained a peridot ring that my mother once bore on her own hand. (Breathe, darling, I’m not proposing over correspondence. What I mean to ask is - ) Would you find yourself open to the idea of wearing it in the foreseeable future? If there was a fellow who had a question to ask - a plead, a beg really - would you be ready to answer the next time you saw him?” 

The ring of his tender descriptions now rested on Anne’s hand, a little tight with her swollen fingers, but still glistening and lovely just the same. Gilbert took the hand and pressed a kiss to the stone that his father had chosen for his mother, the same stone that was a perfect green on his redheaded wife.

“Do you remember what I replied?” she asked, nuzzling her cheek against his touch. 

“Not exactly,” Gilbert admitted with a fond smile. “I think as soon as I read your response, my entire brain stopped functioning and I all but floated around Toronto for the next month.” 

Her shoulders shook against him as she chuckled. 

“What’s that you’re looking at?” Gilbert revealed the journal that had been placed in his lap. Its leather was the same color as Anne’s girlhood horse, Belle and was tied around the middle with a strap. “Ah, the proof of my stint with art.” 

“You were genuinely talented!” Gilbert argued. To prove his point, he flipped open the sketchbook to one of the middle pages. “This one is my favorite.” 

Of course it was, she thought with an amused smirk. He had skipped over the pages where she’d sketched pink carnations - briefly wondering if he recognized they were the ones he’d brought her during one of his visits - and focused on the page where Anne had drawn one of the Blythe-Lacroix apples. 

“Anne Blythe, Gilbert S. C. Blythe…” he read with interest. “If I didn’t know better, Mrs. Blythe, I’d say you were in love with me!” 

“Oh, be quiet. If I didn’t doodle my feelings like an infatuated schoolgirl, I’d have dropped out of Queen’s and transferred to Toronto.” 

“You wouldn’t have found arguments from me,” Gilbert said with a shrug. 

Anne nudged him with her elbow, but kept flipping through the box with interest. Mostly, she found letters. To his delight, it seemed that not a single one had been lost over time. Each one was a treasure, and she’d treated them as such. Some of his more romantic ones appeared to have more wear, as if she’d found them in her hours of loneliness and reread the words in his voice. There were tear smudges, small rips in the corners, memories of smiles, and residual pining that never actually went away. Some of Gilbert’s later letters admitted the way he’d desired her, craved her touch and counted the days before he could love her in the ways he was meant to as a man. It made Anne glad that Marilla had always respected her privacy. If Rachel Lynde had read those letters and found Gilbert Blythe longing to kiss the soft skin of Anne’s breast, she likely would’ve shipped the young girl to France or England herself. 

Lost in her amusement, Anne almost didn’t hear Gilbert sigh beside her. He held an old photograph in his hands, one that she groaned at the sight of. She’d sat for several portraits during her lifetime, but never before did she feel as unattractive as she did in the one he held.

“I ought to have just thrown that in the fire,” she commented. He gaped at her in surprise. 

“What do you mean? Why have I never seen this one?!” he exclaimed. His eyes roved over the picture, and suddenly he felt like the eighteen-year-old boy losing his breath at the sight of her. In the portrait, Anne wore a demure, neutral smile on her lips and wine red blossoms behind her ear. And her hair ...Gilbert suspected that if Aphrodite or Hera were really out there, they envied the ocean waves of her auburn hair. “Anne, this is breathtaking.” 

Anne paused before finally answering in a rush. “I originally planned to send it to you because you’d been asking for one, and I know how much you like my red hair so I asked the man to hand color for me.” 

“I think he did a fine job!” Gilbert added, still confused. 

“He did a fine job commenting on my hair, too,” Anne stated bitterly. “He said he never saw such salmon hair in all his years. Salmon, Gilbert. There was no way I could send the picture after that.”

Gilbert laughed heartily at this, shaking his head at the stubborn rage of his beautiful, impeccable wife. 

“Well, darling, what’s mine is yours, and what’s yours…” He snatched the picture from her hands and stuffed it inside his jacket pocket. “Is mine! I’ll be holding onto this in my own memory box.” 

Anne might’ve argued, but he rose from the bed with a kiss to her forehead. In any other circumstances, she would have followed him until she could reclaim what was hers, but that would’ve involved rising like Christ from her bed. If she owed her husband anything after all the years he’d stayed loyal through her stubbornness and her flares of anger, it was to heed his word and remain in bed. 

Still, with him gone, she missed his warmth and wondered if she might convince him to sit beside her just a little longer.

“You need to eat, my love,” he concluded. “I’m going to go help Susan with dinner. Drink some tea, alright? You need to be sure you’re drinking enough fluids.” 

“I’m hydrating for two, I know.” 

Right before he disappeared out of the room, he let his eyes linger on her - the loveliness of her white bed gown, the sunlight on her hair, the loving glint in her warm blue gaze. He could taste the words on the tip of his tongue, hundreds of I love yous that he could mutter with all the breath in his lungs. Instead, he exhaled a shaky breath and said, “Let me know if you find anything else of interest.” 

Anne nodded with a smile, finally looking the most comfortable she’d been in days. She reached back down to the very bottom of the box and pulled out the oldest letter she it contained. 

“My Anne, I cannot think of a more wonderful way to start a letter…”

[ao3porcelainstorm]

poison ivy & stinging nettles 14

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 13 - Chapter 15

Chapter 14- Asphodel

~~~

They’re both idiots. Emotionally stunted idiots with only concern for the world and never for themselves.

~~~

The viewing had gone as well as could be expected. Sherlock had to admit, whoever patched the hole in the back of Maxwell’s head had done a spectacular job.

Amelia hung back, chatting politely with family, and Sherlock noticed that she never went up to the casket before it was sealed up and the memorial was moved to the gravesite outside.

Hugging her cousin as the family moved, she whispered something in Ruth’s ear that made the other chuckle quietly.

She gave her mother a kiss on the cheek, and when Sherlock arrived at the graveyard, Amelia was gone.

He realized that in all the fuss and bustle, she must have slipped away before the actual memorial began.

She hadn’t been missed, the focus falling on Ruthie and her family, occasionally Lydia. Once the body was in the ground, and people began lingering around for condolences, he went for the gardens. He was positive this time he would find his friend there, as the house was being prepped for a large dinner.

Sure enough, Amelia was sat up under a tree, bundled in her winter jacket, with a sketchbook propped in her lap. She didn’t notice him approach, and barely reacted when he sat down next to her,’ glancing at the picture she was drawing.

“Asphodel,” she explained without looking up. She shaded in the stems, pausing with the end of her pencil between her lips. “A bundle means ‘my regrets follow you into the grave’.”

“Seems appropriate,” he commented.

“Burials freak me out,” she admitted. “And I couldn’t listen to the priest talk about what a great guy he was. I mean, maybe he was for a while, but he did nearly kill John.”

“And you,” Sherlock reminded her. She made a noise under her breath, dismissing his commentary.

“It’s so permanent,” she continued, her sketching a little more intense as she spoke. “Buried in the ground.”

“Flowers sprout from the ground,” Sherlock reminded her quietly. She didn’t react immediately, considering his words before she furrowed her brow in thought.

“Exactly, they spout and grow and become beautiful things,” she lowered her sketchbook to look at him directly. “A coffin just sits there. The body bloats and decays, contributing nothing and warping and bleh.”

“I’ll be sure to plant some nice roses over your body when the time comes,” he smirked.

“But that’s more productive,” she pointed at him with her pencil. “Roses thrive with bonemeal and blood. They love it.”

“I can assure you comfortably,” his smirk grew wider. “You’ll be very much unaware of your surroundings when your time comes. Dead people tend not to complain about their accommodations in my experience.”

“I’m holding you to that,” she poked his arm with her pencil. “Otherwise I’ll haunt you.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, but I’d be willing to see you try and prove otherwise.”

She snorted a laugh under her breath, folding her sketchbook shut.

“Did you see my great-aunt Marge?” she asked in a low voice.

“Is she the one who threw herself over the body?” he questioned in amusement.

“Yep,” she nodded. “She’s been complaining about not getting a cent in my grandpa’s will for decades now. Seems to think Ruthie’s gonna cut her a check today. Her son’s been playing boo-hoo all day too.”

“He called Tommy, ‘Johnny’,” Sherlock supplied, earning a fit of giggles from her. It was far more peaceful in the gardens, even if the plants were mostly bare in anticipation of the upcoming winter weather. There were certainly fewer fake criers.

“Should we even stay for dinner?” she asked, cringing at the thought. “I think I heard Mycroft and my mother are leaving soon.”

“Thank God,” Sherlock muttered, visibly relieved. He was not looking forward to holding his tongue around these people for a few more hours. Aunt Marge alone was enough to provide him snide comments for the next few weeks. “I can be packed in ten minutes.”

Amelia hopped up eagerly, offering a gloved hand and pulling Sherlock to his feet.

“Make it five and we can stop for Indian on the way back.”

~~~

Returning home was uneventful. Both Amelia and Sherlock agreed that it was a bit of a relief not to be staring danger in the face the whole time. It’d been a long few hours, but immediately upon passing the threshold of Baker Street, they were energized again.

Home was home, after all.

John and Mrs. Hudson greeted them with homemade chicken soup, the pair dropping into the kitchen chairs and devouring the meal.

“How has Ruthie held up?” Mrs. Hudson inquired, pouring tea for everyone once they’d finished eating, and moved to the living room.

“As well as you did during your husband's trial,” Sherlock replied briskly. “Favouring the grape, so to speak.”

“To be fair,” Amelia cut in, scowling at Sherlock. “She’s had a chaotic few weeks. I’d be drunk too.”

“But you haven’t been,” Sherlock pointed out. “Comparably, you’ve had a chaotic few months.”

“I have some old whiskey in the pantry. Is that your blessing, Sherlock? Or shall I start spending the nights in the pub with Jessica Reynolds?”

“You two are always at each other,” Mrs. Hudson tutted. “After what John told me, I thought you’d be like honeymooners when you got back.”

Amelia immediately turned her focus to John, who was doing his best to avoid the Auburn-haired woman’s gaze.

“Oh? And what did John tell you?” she squeaked out, face red.

Sherlock even had to admit, it was an amusing response.

“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Mrs. Hudson stood up and retreated for the stairs. “Forget I said anything. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Clever girl,” Amelia muttered after the landlady had closed the door to her flat. She kept her eyes on John, waiting for him to break. It was bound to happen. He always broke with that look.

“Really?” he set his tea down, looking between Sherlock and Amelia impatiently. “Nothing happened?”

“I’m not sure I understand your question, John,” Sherlock crossed his legs, taking a slow sip of his tea. “Would you please expand on what you mean?”

Scoffing, he turned to Amelia.

Smart, Sherlock relented. Her every expression read like a book. Perhaps they’d all gotten too familiar with one another, each roommate reading the other so easily.

“Mia?” he asked.

Amelia shrugged, mumbling something non-committal about there only being one bed.

“We didn’t bang!” she finally snapped under John's scrutinizing look. “Stop being childish John. Honestly.”

“Just shared a bed,” Sherlock hummed. “Pressed against one another the entirety of the night.”

“Fully clothed,” Amelia supplied with a huff. “You’re both enjoying getting a rise out of me and I won’t have it.”

“I think, you wouldn’t be worked up if there wasn’t something you were concerned about being taken out of context,” John reasoned, leaning into his chair smugly.

“Yeah, you thinking I’d sleep with Sherlock,” she scoffed.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Sherlock poked the bear a little further, his face stretched in feign outrage.

Between embarrassment, frustration, and panic, Amelia looked like she short-circuited at the question.

“I’m going to bed,” she stood up, grabbing her blanket, and hobbled down the stairs to her room.

“You’re enjoying this?” John asked with a chuckle.

“Immensely,” Sherlock admitted, smirking to himself.

“And how did you feel about sharing such an intimate space with her?” John quizzed, brow arched expectantly.

How on Earth did he turn it on him?

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock scanned John over. What was his goal here?

Personal satisfaction? No, John wasn’t vindictive like that. He wouldn’t cause trouble for the sake of trouble, he was trying to figure something out.

“Don’t be a busy-body, John, it’s unbecoming,” he rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out and pretending to browse the web.

“Mhm,” John tapped a finger to his chin. “And how did it feel to be ‘pressed against one another the entirety of the night’?”

“I was just teasing Amelia,” he countered.

“You’re not a robot, right?” John sighed.

“I don’t understand what you’re implying?” Sherlock huffed. “What a waste of time.”

He went to retreat for his room when John finally spoke up.

“Amelia,” he caught his friend by the wrist before he passed him. “Do you have feelings for her?”

What?

“What?” Sherlock gaped at him. “Are you mad?”

“What’s her favourite colour?” John waited.

“Marigold yellow,” he replied quickly. “I know yours too, an embarrassingly boring shade of taupe.”

“Favourite book?”

“Anything by Ernest Hemingway.”

“My favourite?”

“John, you’re not proving your point by quizzing me on basic facts about the people I surround myself with,” he pulled his hand free. “She’s a friend.”

“Would you spoon me tonight, then?” John challenged to Sherlock's back.

“Sod off!”

And so John had his answer.

Now to help Amelia and Sherlock to figure it out. He was a good friend after all, and they were a pair of emotionally stunted idiots.

~~~

Sherlock, for his part, truly didn’t believe he had feelings for Amelia Brenner.

For starters, he didn’t know her middle name. Only that it started with “O”. He could have easily gotten her birth certificate but remained convinced that would be cheating.

So how could he have feelings for someone he didn’t fully know?

Of course, John was the one pressing it. The guy who falls in love after one date, clearly confused by two close friends. Just because they were of opposite genders did not mean they automatically were attracted to one another.

And while Sherlock was attracted, a little bit, to Amelia, that didn’t change his stance. That was physical attraction, not anything deeper or meaningful and he was too much of a gentleman to lure her down that road.

He knew Amelia got flustered when it came to romantic entanglements. He didn’t actually believe she had any real feelings for him. It would have been obvious. Most people were obvious, and she’d slept with him, hugged him, touched him, without any hesitation or second thought. That’s just how she was, and that’s why it was so easy for him to tease her.

None of it was genuine.

Grabbing a book off his nightstand, Sherlock was disappointed to find it was a novel he’d finished before leaving for Sirenshore. Not willing to sulk back into the living room to grab something new, he started flipping through the pages until he found a section he’d enjoyed.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long it’d been, but at some point, John went to his bedroom upstairs and the flat was silent.

Aside from the thud of Amelia’s boot and a string of curse words in what Sherlock imagined was her attempt at being quiet.

Setting his book aside, Sherlock crept toward the kitchen, watching from the hall while Amelia made peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She’s changed to her pajamas but clearly hadn’t been sleeping, as her fingers and arms were covered with paint.

She leaned against the countertop, biting into her sandwich and reading the ingredients on the peanut butter container.

He knew she had to have been exhausted after the long trip back and the funeral. Why hadn’t she fallen asleep yet?

He glanced at the kitchen clock. It’d been nearly three hours, and it was considerably late in the night.

Then he remembered.

The basement flat. She didn’t like it down there alone, not recently.

But, with John home, she couldn’t very well sleep on the sofa as she had been. Amelia likes pretending things were fine, even when it was obvious she was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Is the bread stale?” he asked, announcing himself before stepping into the light.

“What?” she chewed a bit, confused at the question. “I mean, no? It doesn’t taste like it.”

“Right,” he nodded, moving to the same countertop and mimicking her lean. Lots of paint on her arms. More than usual. She was being sloppy, which confirmed his theory she was tired.

“What time did you wake up today?” he asked, trying to stay casual.

“Around six-thirty... you were there...” she lowered her sandwich. “Why are you being weird?”

“You’ve been up painting,” he commented, lifting her arm toward the light. “Can’t sleep?”

She tugged her arm free and took another bite of her sandwich.

“Inspiration struck,” she answered. “It’s not very good, but I needed to get it out of my system. Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I never sleep,” he replied. “If you’d like, I was going to do some reading by the fire. It’s warmer than in my bedroom. You’re welcome to come back, John shouldn’t be up until morning.”

She ate the final piece of the sandwich, watching him suspiciously.

“Is this about what John was going on about earlier?” she asked. “Because I know I got weird but seriously, intimacy and whatever freaks me out and he’s totally reading into things.”

“I know,” he stood up. “He’s John. He’ll get over it soon enough. The injury probably is making him bored so he’s coming up with fantastical ways to entertain himself.”

It made sense and Amelia seemed content with the answer.

“That’s...” she laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Let me grab an extra blanket and something to do. I’ll be back.”

When she returned for the evening, she had a sketchbook under her arm and a blanket was thrown over her shoulders. Settling in, they both worked quietly until Sherlock no longer heard the scratch of her pencils against the paper.

Sure enough, she’d passed out, the sketchbook set aside and the blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She looked relaxed, the same peaceful expression on her face as she’d had at Sirenshore.

Sherlock tossed another log into the fire. He wasn’t planning on sleeping any time soon, his mind still reeling over everything from the last weekend. He needed to find Moriarty before he enacted whatever it was he was planning.

He needed to keep his friends safe.

Chapter 15

[royallyjoon]

detention

a percy jackson k-12 au

all credit of the song and film goes to melanie martinez and her producers✨🖤💛

Nico opened the doors to Mr. Geryon’s class, calmly walking in despite the multitude of accusing stares. No, he was not late, nor was he trying to draw attention to himself. They simply felt as though his very existence was disturbing to their presence.

He’d dyed his uniform sleeve bands and the “K-12” on his chest black, and spent most of his days in black jeans and boots. The silver skull ring and earrings he wore probably didn’t help either, but he finally felt comfortable in his attire.

His friends embraced his style, and the teachers didn’t care, so why not?

He took his seat in the front next to a blonde boy doodling something in his notebook. As he placed his bag by his feet, Nico felt the boy’s eyes on him.

Ah...will he be like everyone else? He thought to himself.

He saw how curious the boy was, glancing over at everyone whispering and pointing at Nico.

“I’m not a bad guy,” Nico smiled. “so don’t treat me bad. What’s your name?”

“I’m Will Solace,” the boy blushed as he introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you; my name is Nico di Angelo.” He replied.

The two shook hands.

“I’ve never seen you in this class before,” Nico stated.

“Oh, that’s because I transferred from Mrs. Dodd’s class,” Will replied. “I felt like she wasn’t really interested in teaching for the sake of teaching, but more so for the pay and the principal. I wish I could teach myself the material, but I found it really difficult, so I wanted to see if Mr. Geryon was any better.”

Nico nodded in understanding. “Unfortunately, Mr. Geryon cares even less about us than Mrs. Dodds...”

He hesitated on saying the next part, but he recalled what Percy said to him a few weeks prior.

If you don’t try, you’ll never know.

“I-” Will was turning his head to look at his notebook when Nico blurted. He whipped his head back around.

“I...if you want, I could try and help tutor you...my friends say my grades are pretty decent.” Nico murmured in embarrassment.

Will broke out into a grin. “Really? I would appreciate that so much, thank you-”

“Are you sure you want that freak to tutor you, handsome?” Some random girl called out from the back. Nico had forgotten that the minute he stepped into this room, he lost all sense of respect from his classmates.

“Yeah, he’ll probably take you to his dorm room and sacrifice you to his father,” another boy snickered.

Nico turned red and turned away from Will, lowering his head to his desk. The girl in the back bounced up to Will as if she had done nothing wrong as the teacher walked into the classroom.

“I could tutor you,” the same girl from before drawled, drawing a line on Will’s chest from his collarbones to his naval. “Trust me, I get better grades without even trying.”

“A false testament, Ms. Terry.” Mr. Geryon slammed his briefcase onto the teacher’s desk. “You had the lowest score on the last test out of everyone in your grade. So if you would please take your seat so that I can teach my lesson and be done with you all. The sooner, the better.”

Terry, or whoever she was, walked back to her seat rightfully mortified.

“I’d like to take you up on your offer,” Will whispered back. “How about tomorrow after school in the library? I can wait for you by the nonfiction section.”

Nico smiled. “Sure. We’ll start from the beginning.”

They turned around before Mr. Geryon singled them out for talking. The whole class, Will could barely focus on the lesson.

For one thing, he had an undeniably cute guy sitting next to him. For another, he had no idea what was going on in terms of material. He spent most of the time drawing tiny sketches of Nico, hiding his notebook from the other boy.

When the bell rung, Will packed all his pens away and threw his pencil case in his bag. But when he looked up, Nico had already disappeared.

——————————————————————————

Will walked through the hallway, telling a classmate about his crush.

“Jake, you don’t understand! He’s so cute!” Will gushed.

Jake laughed. “Don’t shoot those heart eyes at me, man. Who is he?”

“His name is Nico.” Will replied.

Jake paused. “Nico?” He asked incredulously. “Nico di Angelo?!”

“Yup.” Will said, popping the “p”. “Why do you say it like that?”

Jake grabbed Will’s arm and dragged him to a corner of the hall, looking from side to side to check that no one was listening. “Dude, he’s one of those freaks. He hangs out with Percy Jackson and Grover Underwood. They have weird, special abilities. I heard their eyes glow in the dark or some shit like that.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

“From Malcolm...he’s in Percy’s class and he saw him fight Drew Tanaka over Jason Grace. He literally lifted her in the air and then threw her back down.” 

“They call him the ghost king. Nico hangs with a dangerous crowd, man. I’d be extra careful if I were you.”

The bell rang and Jake ran from Will waving him goodbye. The blonde lifted his hand halfheartedly, mind still reeling from the information.

Special abilities? Like...

——————————————————————————

Will traipsed across the campus greens, mulling over what Jake told him. “He seemed more than normal to me,” he muttered to himself.

He walked past the principal’s grave and came across his favorite grove of trees. He often came to this part of campus because it was closer to the lake and the quietest space available around this time. WIll spent at least an hour or two here, doodling nature.

Today, however, as he happened upon his space he found none other than Nico di Angelo sitting cross-legged on one of the granite benches in the grove. He appeared as though he were meditating. His eyes were closed and he held his palms over his knees and sat with his back straight.

Will ducked behind a nearby tree before Nico could hear his footsteps. He set his backpack and sketchbook on the ground gently, peering at his classmate.

Nico opened his eyes. He stared out into the open air, nodding his head at something in the distance. 

“Maybe he’s listening to music?” Will thought but when he glanced at his ears there were no headphones present. 

Nico’s mouth moved as he gazed into the empty space seriously. He seemed as though he was actually talking to someone.

Will stared at him some more. He breathed in deeply and concentrated, allowing his blue eyes to glow brighter and brighter. 

“Woah,” he said softly in amazement.

Nico was shrouded in a cloud of darkness, but the gloom was not clinging to him in a way that was suffocating. No, it was the exact opposite. The cloud stood assuredly around him, accentuating his every move. At the top of Nico’s head lay a crown made of bones and jewels. The sparkling gems contrasted with the dull osseous matter wonderfully, standing out in the black mess that was Nico’s hair.

When Will looked into what was empty space before, he choked down a gasp.

Standing across from Nico were a number of spirits, all but one kneeling in his presence. The one standing is who Nico was currently having a conversation with.

Jake was right, Will thought in his momentary panic.

The ghost said something to Nico. He smiled at the air before tensing. His head whipped in Will’s direction just as the other pressed himself flat against the tree.

He stuffed his sketchbook into his bookbag, crawled through a space in the underbrush and ran off to the library.

Nico got off the granite bench, thanking the spirits before dismissing them. He approached the tree where he swore he saw someone just moments before. During further inspection, he couldn’t find anything and turned to go to class when a flash of white caught his eye.

It looked like a torn piece of paper, caught between the leaves of the underbrush. Nico gently untangled the branches and retrieved the paper.

The drawing held what looked like half of a flower, with the initials “W.S.” in script at the bottom of the page.

Nico smirked and folded the paper, tucking it into his pocket for tomorrow.

————————————————————————

The next day after classes, Will tentatively opened the door to the library.

Their sleepaway school’s library was quite large and homey. It contained red leather, plush seats resting by an unlit fireplace. The wooden tables and chairs adorned the bookcases, filled with old, religious books as well as more recent YA fiction.

Will spied Nico sitting at a table near the back of the library by a fireplace. It was adorned with fairy lights, a favored section for bookworms to cuddle up and get lost. There were bean bags on the floor, but Nico felt that it would be more appropriate to sit at a table for a study session.

“Hey,” Will whispered his greeting, cheeks immediately beginning to flush as he thought back to yesterday.

“Hey, how’s your day so far?” Nico replied. He had a black mechanical pencil behind his ear and the front of his hair tied back in a skull hair clip.

Will physically fought the urge to melt.

“It was okay, just filled with the normal mindless chatter from people around me.” He said as he sat. “How is yours?”

“Great, now that you’re here.” Nico grinned.

Will scoffed and pulled his books out his books. “Alright, Professor di Angelo. Don’t start flirting with your student now.”

Nico chuckled lowly. How does he get his voice that deep, Will panicked as he got out a pencil.

The two quietly chatted in their corner. Will thought the library would have been busier, but it seemed as though every time someone headed towards them, they would drift away with a misty look in their eyes.

He found that Nico was a pretty great teacher, and with the sharing of notes the two quickly caught up to that week’s material.

“I understand! Wow, I had no idea Professor Geryon’s material could actually make sense.” He gushed. “Thanks so much for tutoring me.”

Nico smiled, thankful his efforts proved successful. “Ah, it was nothing. We could stay study buddies, if you’d like...?”

“Like? I’d love.” Will replied.

Nico took in a deep breath. “I hope you won’t change your answer...”

Will’s brows furrowed in confusion before he saw Nico pull out a tiny slip of paper and handed it to him. His expression balked at the sight of his own signature.

“A hyacinthus, correct?” Nico said.

Will nodded wordlessly.

They sat in awkward silence as Nico heavily examined the table. “So...you saw me?” He asked.

“And you saw me...” Will confirmed.

Some more quiet.

“It’s a beautiful drawing-“

“I didn’t mean to disturb-“

The two blurted out sentences at the same time.

“No, sorry, you can go first.” Nico said.

“I usually draw in that grove because I find it inspirational and quiet...I didn’t mean to spy on you.”

Nico stared down at the table unmoving. “Did you see everything?” He whispered.

Will nodded.

Nico junped up from the table, stuffing books into his bag.

“Wait, where are you going-“

“I have to go.” Nico blurted. “I have a friend thing to go to-“

“Mr. Solace and Mr. di Angelo.” A low hissing voice appeared before the two.

The apparent shield that had been around them dissolved, and other students looked on as Mrs. Dodds approached the two, whispering and pointing.

“Oh my God, look at them.”

“Who would willingly hang out with that freak?”

Mrs. Dodds nodded at Nico, something like respect in her eyes. “I understand that the two of you are catching up on school material but there is no need to make such a ruckus. Two days’ detention, Mr. Solace.”

Will spluttered in indignation. “Mrs. Dodds-“

“It’s not his fault, Mrs. Dodds. I was the one trying to leave in such a hurry.” Nico muttered, staring at the floor. He tightened his grip on his bag strap.

“Then you can join him, Mr. di Angelo.”

Nico looked up, engaging in a glaring contest with the homeroom teacher. She eventually won out. Nico rolled his eyes and left the library.

Will sat alone at the library table, more confused than ever.

—————————————————————————

“So you jumped up and left?” Percy asked Nico, munching on a blue brownie.

When he’d heard his friend needed emotional support, the boy rushed over with brownies and ice cream. Nico sat on his half of the room, decorated with black, purple, and gold.

His roommate hadn’t returned from sports practice but promised to attend the comfort session as soon as possible.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said miserably. “He probably saw me talking to air, looking like an idiot. I couldn’t handle the rejection...so I left. Like an even bigger idiot.”

Percy mused quietly, wiping his hands on a napkin. The door to the room opened and Jason Grace stepped in, sweaty from practice.

He smiled at Percy and dropped his equipment on the floor next to his bed before draping himself over Nico. “Ah, the woes of teenage love.”

Nico groaned. “You reek, go take a shower.”

Jason grinned and winked. “You love it and you know it.”

Percy scoffed. “We really don’t. Hit the showers, Grace.”

The three made an unlikely group of friends but each knew that if they were having trouble with anything they could go to the other two for help.

Once Jason was showered, they laid on the floor with a Disney movie playing in the background.

“Now Mrs. Dodds gave us detention for tomorrow and Saturday.” The smaller raven grumbled.

“It’s not like you guys are going to be the only ones there.” Jason said, scarfing down all of Percy’s brownies. “Mrs. Dodds loves handing out detention slips like an old man handing out Hershey bars.”

“She won’t give anyone a chance to talk to each other, either. Keep your head down until you’re ready to talk to him, and just nap or do homework or something.” Percy added.

Nico nodded, more prepared to face the next two days with his friends’ advice.

—————————————————————————

It turned out that both Percy and Jason were wrong.

Mrs. Dodds had managed to not give detention to anyone else. Not only that, She placed Nico and Will directly next to each other, took their phones, and the proceeded to leave the room to “make a call” (read: eat her after school snack).

Nico shifted uncomfortably. He avoided Will’s gaze at all costs and focused on trying to finish the homework Mr. Geryon had assigned.

That is, until a piece of paper slid onto his desk.

When he glanced at Will, the blonde had his head buried in his sketchbook.

He unfolded the slip of paper.

It was a letter with a sketch of a chibi Will with closed teary eyes and prayer hands and an amazingly descriptive drawing of two blue eyes at the bottom.

They were bright. Almost impossibly bright, in a way Nico didn’t think could be reflected on paper.

The letter read:

Dear Nico,

I’m sorry if I upset you by watching you. I found you meditating and at peace, and honestly I was going to draw you. But then I saw you smile and start talking to the air. But it wasn’t the air, was it?

It’s okay. I don’t know who was there, but I can tell that it was probably someone important. It was pretty cool to see your crown in midair, to be honest.

I don’t find you weird or repulsive or any of the other insults that other kids keep throwing your way. They don’t know you, and they have no right to judge you just because of your abilities. From what I can tell, you’re a great person to be around.

So, if you would still like to accept the offer, I would love to still be your student, and maybe more in terms of friends, and someday maybe more than that?

Sincerely,

Will

P.S. You’re an awesome Ghost King.

——————————————————————————

Will sat with his heart pounding. Every second Nico spent reading the letter threw him deeper into the dark, twisting hole that was his anxiety.

Soon he heard snorting, then giggling.

It was the cutest sound Will had ever heard.

“So you...were like me...this whole time?” Nico said between laughs.

Will nodded. “I was curious...I normally don’t pull the eyes out in public but I felt that there was something special about you.”

Nico smiled. “I’ll take you up on your offer, Solace. You can keep being my student, and I’d be happy to be friends...and more.”

Will pumped his fists in the air in victory. “Yes!”

He faltered as Nico took his left hand. The raven pushed a ring onto Will’s finger, sterling silver and decorated with tiny purple and blue gems.

It was still warm from Nico’s hand.

He pulled Will’s hand towards his lips, softly kissing the back. “To us,” he said.

Will blushed furiously. “To us.” He returned.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

Keeping Secrets (Peter Parker x Male Reader)

Here’s my first writing thing. I was just suddenly inspired and so this blog happened.

Word count: like 2300?

Peter Parker was never popular. He was a nerd who hung out with his nerd friends, but he was the one who got picked on because the popular kids like Flash knew he wouldn't fight back. You knew about the bystander effect and you hated that you were the first one to ever break it in your school. The third time you heard Flash threaten Peter during class, you replied to him with some choice words that got you into detention. Luckily, you got to spend it with MJ and Peter.

You slipped a note to MJ.

What are you here for?

She glanced at it quickly and replied, passing it back to you.

Nothing. I just like to sketch people. And a room full of sad troublemakers is always my go-to. -MJ

You looked back up at her with a "what the hell" look, and she showed you her sketchbook, a profile of your face and Peter's. Your gaze softened when you looked at Peter's portrait, and it was all she needed to quickly draw a heart around your faces.

"MJ!" you whisper-yelled, turning to the teacher supervising the students.

He hadn't looked up from his book. Peter, however, lifted his head up from his arms to look at you. You turned around to face him and quickly slammed MJ's sketchbook face down as she snickered.

"Go back to your thoughts, nothing to see here," you whispered, giving him an awkward smile as you felt your face heating up.

He furrowed his eyebrows but put his head back down, and you turned to glare at MJ. She lifted the sketchbook again, grinning as she carefully ripped the page out and wrote a note next to it. Once she handed it to you, you read the written words.

For (Y/N)'s and Peter's first date: an afternoon in detention. You are both, by far, the most oblivious teenagers I have ever met. And you're bad at keeping secrets.

Her name was signed along the bottom right of the heart where the note was written. Still blushing, you folded it in half and slipped it into the back pocket of your school binder.

You were taking the train home when you suddenly remembered something.

Just about two weeks ago, MJ from the Academic Decathlon Team in Midtown High asked you, of all people, to join them. It was only because they needed one more person for it to be an official school field trip, even if it was an academic team. You agreed, figuring that it was something nice to do for a friend of yours and joined them.

You were just sitting in the back, occasionally calling out answers to questions (which you somehow knew the answers to despite sleeping in your math classes). Ned and Peter were whispering to each other in the seat across from you, and you leaned over.

"What's up?" you piped up from behind Peter.

Peter, jumpier than he usually was, turned to you, startled.

"Oh, just telling him... my aunt's secret... recipe for uh..." Peter trailed off, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Banana bread! Yeah, she puts a secret ingredient," Ned exclaimed, both of them giving you an awkward smile.

"Okay..."

Then, there was the fact that you and MJ were waiting on the ground as the rest of the team went up the elevator of the Washington Monument. You said that you were afraid of heights, a plausible fear, but really you just wanted to see if Peter turned up and to keep MJ company.

When Spider-Man popped up, MJ exclaimed, "My friends are up there!"

He tried to make his voice sound deeper as he shouted to both of you and started to climb up the tower.

"Hey, so they're your friends now?" you said to MJ to try and lighten the mood.

"... yeah, I guess. So are you," she replied, punching you in the arm and smirking.

You looked around, seeing a bag stuck to a tree by webs.

"Hey, just wait here a moment. I'm gonna call the police," you said, pulling out your phone and dialling 911.

She just nodded, looking up at the tower as you pat her shoulder in comfort. You called the number as you walked up to the tree.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I'm on the ground at the Washington Monument. There was an explosion at the top, and my school friends are up there. Spider-Man's here too but I think he'd appreciate some help."

"The one from the Internet? You do know that he can be arrested, right?"

"I'll take my chances. There are human lives in danger."

You hung up just as you pulled out a multi-tool from your bag. You used the knife to cut the web strands and wrenched the bag free from the tree. After you removed all the webbing, you wiped your knife on the tree bark and opened the bag. It was a schoolbag, with just a binder, a few books, and some clothing. You pulled out the binder, and the name "Peter Parker" was written neatly on the side of the binder.

What the hell is Spider-Man doing with Peter's bag? you thought to yourself.

You figured that it was meant for someone to find and get to Peter, so you closed it and held it by the handle as you went back to the monument to see what you missed.

At that moment, you were blanking. Your stop came up and you bolted out the open doors to exit the subway and walk home.

Peter couldn't be Spider-Man, right? Was it just a coincidence that Spider-Man was there when we were? Or maybe he has a hidden power of teleportation somewhere if he needs to. But Spider-Man's voice sounded like a high school student's. It was generally high for a male and he was pretty awkward and soft-spoken.

Just like Peter's voice.

You never saw Peter when Spider-Man was around, and Peter tended to not talk about some dangerous thing that happened around Queens, likely because he was in that dangerous event.

D.C. just determined his identity. When you returned his bag at his apartment, he looked really grateful and said something about it being the 6th one this month. Knowing him, he probably lost it a lot.

You figured that he would tell you when he felt comfortable, so you decided not to talk to him about it. With his and Ned's whispering on the bus, you assumed that he knew about it too. MJ was good at keeping secrets, and maybe she noticed how Peter's strange actions were matching up with this "Stark internship" of his.

To Michelle MJ Jones:

you talk to Peter recently?

MJ: why? wanna ask him on a date through your trustworthy friend?

Me: Shut up. You know how he's been disappearing a lot and being really busy after school?

MJ: oh, you figured it out too?

Me: MJ are you kidding me

MJ: Nah. Found out after DC.

Me: talk about this in school tomorrow?

MJ: cause talking about your friends behind their backs is always easier in person I'm kidding. I'll be available 6th period. The art room is empty and the teacher normally doesn't pay attention to the students

Me: see you then

She replied with a "see you" and you turned your phone off to continue walking home.

It was homecoming and you were standing with MJ and Ned. Neither were dancing, but both turned to the door when you spotted Peter. You and Ned waved, and MJ gave him the finger. You followed suit and turned to her as he began to approach his supposed date.

"Dude, he looks so good in that suit," you mumbled to MJ.

"Ned, gay boy here has a crush!" MJ laughed.

"Yeah, everyone knows. I hope Peter finds out soon, though," Ned replied.

You gaped at him, but you all watched as Peter walked away from Liz to leave through the doors he entered from. Ned excused himself and you looked at MJ, giving her an apologetic glance.

"Go on, lover boy. You know I'm just here for the food."

You smiled and gave her a quick hug before running after Peter. You peeked around the corner to see him lift an entire set of lockers with one hand to grab some hidden clothing and continue running. You were just a little bit in shock, but he bolted into the next hallway for the bathroom. You continued running to grab his tie from the floor and turned to see Ned, out of breath and looking at you.

"Did you- did you see peter?" he managed.

"Yeah, he grabbed his shit suit to change into. Come on, we have to go help him."

You patted his shoulder as you continued to run after Peter's now retreating form to the parking lot. Ned continued running, not even questioning how you found out. You watched a bit of a fight unfold, Peter getting beat up by some random dude. His web shooter got kicked away, and you grabbed it, looking at Ned.

"How does this work?"

He put it on your wrist and pointed it towards the attacker.

"Now do the Spider-Man hand thing and shoot it at him!"

You did just that and watched the guy get stuck onto a school bus, struggling to escape.

"Nice shot! Uh, Ned? (Y/N)?"

Peter, in his old and not really safe Spidey suit, turned to look at you both.

"Don't ask. Take it!"

You tossed it to him and he caught it flawlessly, putting it back on his wrist and giving you a nod. He told you both to track his phone. Ned tapped your shoulder and you both went to the school's computer room.

After the entire fight (and telling a teacher that you were finishing a project), you and Ned gave each other a high five, cheering each other and starting to get your stuff. You both agreed that you should come up with a cool handshake soon.

"So, Spider-Man, huh?" Ned laughed, putting his laptop under his arm.

"Peter, but yeah," you huffed, grabbing your own and punching his other shoulder. "I don't know if I want to ask anyway. I think I'd rather just keep it down forever. I don't even know if he likes guys."

"Well, after all this blows over, maybe you can talk to him."

"Maybe."

After he texted your friends' group chat saying that he was back from upstate with Tony Stark himself, you went straight to his apartment. He answered, smiling when he saw you.

"Hey, I just got back home," he said, letting you in and taking his bag off his shoulder. "What are you here for?"

"Just... want to chill. Your room?" you suggested.

"Yeah, let's go," he said, leading the way.

He paused in the doorway, and you moved to look past him. On a large brown paper bag, a note was written for Peter.

THIS BELONGS TO YOU -TS

Peter dropped his bag and took a few large steps to the bag, opening it.

"Oh my god. It's the suit!" Peter laughed, taking it out and showing you.

"He left it for you? That's awesome!"

You dropped your bag next to his and moved closer to inspect it. He looked up at you with a huge smile and started taking off his clothes.

"Well, at least ask me out first," you joked, moving out of his way.

He laughed but continued to take off the rest of his clothing, pulling on the suit and the mask and letting it tighten on his body.

"Oh my god, he's really letting me keep this?!"

Peter laughed in excitement as he looked down at it.

"Congratulations. You could almost be an Avenger now," you snickered.

"We never got to catch up. How did you even find out I was Spider-Man anyway?" he asked.

"Well, you were always disappearing when something happened. And you dropped out of all your after-school and extracurricular activities, which is really weird for someone as nerdy as you," you explained. "D.C. was what made me realise it. When you said you lost, like, 5 school bags in a month, I knew something was up. And then I followed you after you left the dance, and you lifted an entire set of school lockers up so..."

"I guess I'm not as good with keeping secrets as I thought," he chuckled.

"You're actually pretty good. It's easy to pretend you're an open book, but that makes it a good cover for you," you said, grinning at him.

"Wait, so, why did you come today? I mean, I'm sure you didn't know about this."

He gestured towards the bag.

"I just, uh... I wanted to ask you out? Maybe? Like a date? I really like you, and I've wanted to be with you for a while, so, yeah, a date."

You looked more at the spider on his chest than his face, but looked up when he started to take off his mask to reveal a large, endearing smile.

"I really like you too. I'd love to take you somewhere a little special for a first date, if you don't mind?"

"Yeah. I mean, normally it's the person who gets asked out is taken on a date but it's fine."

He took a step towards you as he started to lean in.

"Is this okay?"

You grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him closer, closing the distance between the two of you as you kissed. As you pulled away, he pecked your lips quickly, both of you laughing quietly. There was a moment of silence as you embraced each other.

"What the f-"

[sambarvadai]

#5: the curious art of crunchtime creativity (1/2): voila!

posted on 4 nov 2019 there’s something about exams, about the mindbending stress they induce, about the level of shutdown your brain goes into. for me, exam seasons have never been about exams themselves, but about everything else.

i find myself relishing being let off early from classes, because as soon as i go home i take a good, long nap. i like having free blocks, when teachers let us study whatever we want to, so we pull up chairs and quiz our friends, or follow around the teacher as they entertain hysterical, nonsensical, or the rare well-thought-out question. i enjoy filling up pages of paper with math workings – done in pencil, because pen refills are expensive.

but this post isn’t about what goes on in school. it’s about what i do when i’m supposed to be studying. in those moments, i find myself more creative than i’ve ever been.

this isn’t a recent trend. when i was twelve and gearing up for my first bout of national exams, i found an old grid notebook with yellowing pages. it was my mother’s notebook, judging by the handwriting, but evidently (and thankfully) it wasn’t a very important notebook. that became my sketchbook for the year. i carried it out everywhere, drawing anything and everything that caught my fancy – from the line of my classmate’s back, to the imposing national museum. i wrote notes in it from a philosophy book. in short, it was my diary, and i loved it very much. the best sketch i’ve ever done comes with a defiant postscript: ‘done on xx/xx/xxxx, oral day!’ that sketchbook retains my fondest memories. i still remember my art teacher saying: ‘you know, this is a really great portfolio. if i didn’t know better i’d think you were gearing for art uni,’ citing the numerous sketches, studies, and figure drawings i’d done.

since then, the activities have changed, but the drive has not. my most recent exams saw me making music on musescore (god bless musescore), composing a 100-bar-long song inspired by chinese music, among other pieces. it felt really, really good. while there was a slight tinge of guilt that i wasn’t studying, it was quickly overtaken by the sheer joy of writing music. some of the best pieces i’ve produced (imho) were written when i was supposed to be doing anything but that. it was during times of external pressure. it seems as if creative energy leaks happen right when critical/analytical energy levels run dangerously high, initating some sort of shutdown that makes the right brain go into its happy place. i don’t know what’s the science, but i’m very thankful for this science, even if it rears its head in the most inopportune times.

my friends express this too. one friend also discovered musescore after i repeatedly sent her my music, and composed an intriguing piece after messing around with it for an hour or so. another friend found herself doodling gorgeous, gorgeous things right during exam peak period. this blog, itself, was born three days before national exams (i’m seeing a recurring pattern here). who knows what’ll come out of the next national exams two years later? (hopefully, something a little less time-consuming, because those exams MATTER!!)

in conclusion, on some level, stress helps us create, and we should embrace that and let it out instead of beating ourselves over it when we inevitably succumb to drawing bodiless eyes on exam papers. let yourself relax. write that blog post. draw that perfect face. feel that sense of satisfaction that you’ve created something just for yourself. that’s the special part – you’re not doing this because someone else told you to or forced you to. creativity is like a relationship – if you have to force it out, something’s wrong. allow yourself to be comfortable with doing things for yourself, and feel good that you’ve created something at the end of it. even as i’m typing this with my national exam looming over my head, i feel content that i’m sharing a part of myself that gives me satisfaction. try it out.

part 2 coming soon!! in the meantime, all the best to whoever who has exams and is reading this!!

thanks for reading!! anbudan, noon xoxo

[scarlet-star-witch]

Never Enough (Jim Hopper/OC) - Part 3 (NSFW)

Summary: Devon and Jim find themselves in a whirlwind romance, the kind that swept the both of them off their feet. While things in Hawkins start to take a turn for the worst, Devon realizes she and her son are more involved in this small town conspiracy than she ever would have believed. At least she has the surly but loveable Chief on her side and in her arms.

Previous Part 

Devon looked up at the clock for what may have been the hundredth time that night. Jim had promised to come by and stay the night. He’d been working so hard at the station lately, she felt like she’d barely seen him in the past couple of weeks and they were finally able to get time together.

But, it was already past midnight and there hadn’t even been a call from him. She sighed and turned her attention back to the sketchbook in her hand, trying to focus on her next project instead of the man who drove her insane.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Jim had a habit of promising things and never delivering. The amount of sleepless nights she’d had waiting for him were already too many to count.

She would be angry if she wasn’t so worried. She knew it was unlikely anything dangerous would be happening in Hawkins, but she spent almost all of her life in Chicago. It was hard not to be worried when she was used to the violence of the big city.

Devon was finishing up the final touches on the sketch she’d been working on all night when she finally heard the sound of keys in the front door.

She looked up, keeping her expression neutral, though she couldn’t deny how relieved she was, as Hopper walked through her door.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry I’m late, I got held up at the station.”

Devon just nodded silently. She’d heard those words before. She’d heard them too many times in the last three months to really have a reaction to them anymore.

Jim immediately noticed her aloof reaction and he was on edge within seconds. They may have not been together long, but he could tell when she was in a mood. Especially when it was because of him.

“What happened?” She asked, keeping her eyes on her sketch in her lap, refusing to look up at him.

“Just a shit load of paperwork.”

“I was worried about you.” She admitted quietly.

Jim sighed, looking over at her with a smile. He took his hat off, kicking his shoes off quickly and made his way towards her to take a seat next to her on the couch.

“Baby, we’re in Hawkins. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen?”

“I dunno. You’re the Chief, you have the most responsibility. Anything could happen.” She shrugged.

Jim smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side, his face nuzzling in her mass of curls.

“You flatter me.” He mumbled against the skin of her neck. “But, really, what’s the worst that’s gonna happen to me? Some old lady’s gonna pull out a gun on the noisy teens across the street?”

“You never know!” Devon argued, making Jim laugh.

“You’ve spent too much time in Chicago.”

“I know, and you’re lucky we’re not in Chicago or I’d never let you leave the house.”

“You don’t think I could handle it?”

“I mean, you complain every time you have to do work here. I don’t think you’re cut out for the big city.” Devon teased with a smirk which grew as she heard Jim guffaw in disbelief.

“Those are some fightin’ words baby.” Hopper warned playfully, his eyes lighting up. Devon looked up at him with a quirked brow. She knew by the look in his eye what her teasing does to him. The smirk on his face was enough to tell her what he was thinking of.

Devon fought back a laugh, trying to focus on drawing instead of Jim’s hands that wandered over her waist.

“You know, you could’ve called.” She mumbled, trying her hardest to keep her focus on the conversation and not on his wandering hands, but he was making it very difficult.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He whispered against the sensitive skin of her neck, forcing her to hold back a shiver. “But, you know, duty calls.”

“I thought you hated this town, darling.” She teased.

Jim laughed and leaned forward, his lips pressing to her neck as he pushed her hair over her shoulder to open up more room for him to explore.

“This damn town is where I met you, how could I hate it?”

Devon laughed, her shoulder rising on instinct as he kissed her sweet spot. Damn him, he knew exactly what places made her weak.

“Jim Hopper, you’re too charming for your own good.” She moaned, her eyes falling closed.

“You complaining?”

“Only if you stop.” She whispered. Jim pulled back, at first a little shocked by her blunt words, before his devilish smirk matched her own. He leaned down, his lips crashing to hers fiercely. He knew she hated it when he was late, when she didn’t know where he was, and this was the best way to make it up to her.

He kept his lips pressed to hers as he took the sketch book from her hands and threw it down to the ground. She didn’t care, it allowed his hands to roam her body and she wasn’t about to start complaining.

His hands started at her hips and as they moved across her ass, she pushed her hips forward to grind against his, making him groan.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.” He huffed against her lips, unable to fully pull away from her, and growling lowly when she pulled away, looking down at him hungrily.

“You complaining?” She echoed his words, earning her a playfully dirty look.

Jim kissed her again, taking her breath away. She felt like a teenager with the way he leaned her back against the couch and continued to kiss her passionately. She hadn’t felt this rebellious in a long time.

“Jim,” She moaned, her hands dragging down his back and up to his front, her fingers trailing over the buttons of his uniform. He hummed in response, unwilling his lips to part from her dark skin. “Take me to bed.” She whispered and the sultry tone of her voice was almost enough to do him in.

“I got you, baby.” He whispered roughly and picked her up in her arms, reveling in the wide smile it earned him. He carried her down the hallway, making sure to be extra quiet as they passed Charlie’s room.

The last thing they needed was a curious one year old ruining the moment.

Hopper was quick to get rid of his clothes, Devon would have laughed at his eagerness if she wasn’t so eager herself. It had been weeks since she had alone time with him, she was aching for it. She hated how hard he worked himself and the sleepless nights he always had.

Sleepless nights were only ok if it meant them having fun, not doing hours of paperwork.

She took the initiative and pulled her shirt off, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling too widely as she noticed his lust filled gaze locked onto her. His eyes trailed over her face and down to her exposed chest, the fire in his eyes bringing heat to her cheeks as though she were a shy teenager.

She always felt like a goddess under his gaze. He never failed to make her feel beautiful with the look of awe in his eyes every time they were together this way.

She leaned up on her elbows, her hand snaking over his shoulders and through his hair to bring him back down to her to crash her lips to his. She didn’t want to waste any more time.

Jim had been very self conscious of his size and body shape when he met Devon, something she never understood, because it drove her wild. She loved that he towered over her, she loved when he draped himself over her. In a way, it made her feel so safe and secure.

And his bigger body shape was definitely no issue to her. He was big everywhere and she wasn’t complaining one bit.

Devon had to remember to be quiet so as to not wake her son as Jim first pushed himself inside of her. She bit her lip and pressed her forehead to his shoulder to muffle the moan that slipped out.

Jim was less inclined to think about reason and let loose a loud groan as he began to move his hips back and forth. Devon pulled back, giving him a warning look while smirking in satisfaction at his response. Just because they had to be quiet didn’t mean she didn’t like seeing what she did to him.

As Jim moved slowly, knowing they’d both be unable to hold back if he went any faster, his grip on Devon’s waist grew tighter. He leaned down, pressing his lips to her neck messily, biting and sucking at every inch he could find, reveling in the soft whimpers it earned him.

He moaned gruffly as she wrapped her legs around his waist, allowing him to thrust deeper. He quickened his pace involuntarily, his body reacting to her seemingly without control.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He whispered, his voice raspy and gruff, which sent a shiver down her spine.

Devon gripped onto his shoulders, her nails pressing into his skin. Her head fell back and a gasp escaped her parted lips as he thrusted harder, reaching a spot within her that left stars dancing in her vision.

“Jim, don’t stop!” She breathed out, sounding desperate. Hopper just grunted in response and moved faster, his hands trailing up from her waist to grip onto her back as it arched under his touch.

“So beautiful.” He told her, watching in fascination as her eyes closed and her cheeks flushed. He still had no idea what the hell she was doing with him and he was sure the whole town was wondering the same thing. But Jim wasn’t going to think anymore about it, he was just going to be thankful she settled for him.

“Faster.” Devon moaned in his ear, making his eyes roll to the back of his head at the sultry sound of her voice.

“Dev,” He warned gruffly, knowing if he went faster they’d get too loud.

“Please.”

It was the sound of her voice and the way she raised her hips to thrust against his that had his mind melting and his inhibitions out the window.

He groaned and pulled her closer to him, her breasts against his chest as he moved faster, now roughly pounding into her.

Devon cried out as she felt herself nearing her peak. Her grip on him got tighter, to the point where she knew he would have scratches down his back tomorrow that she’d need to apologize for. Jim was right there with her. He grunted at the feeling of her walls tightening around his length, leaving him breathless. He panted her name softly, sounding desperate for release.

The two of them were so in sync and so desperate for each other, they lost control at the exact same moment.

~~~~~

Jake Pierson threw the monitor across the room, a roar of anger leaving his lips. Watching her with him made him angrier than he thought it would.

Listening to Devon cry out for him and hearing the Chief say her name in pure pleasure as they both reached their peaks, it made his blood boil. He hated seeing that man hold her so tightly, making love to her the way he used to.

He didn’t think he cared about her this much, if he knew he would feel like this, he never would’ve let her get away.

His chest heaved and his hair was sticking up at odd angles from his trembling hands running through them every few minutes. Watching those two together sent him spiralling in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

“I knew I shouldn’t have put you on surveillance.” A calm voice spoke from behind him.

Jake turned on his heel, his anger swelling at the sight of Doctor Brenner with a smug expression on his face.

“What the hell do you want?” Jake spat, not fearing that this was his boss that he was talking to, the man that held all the power over the lab.

“It’s been months and we still don’t have the boy. Why do you think that is?”

“You said we need to be discreet, follow silently for a while to learn her schedule and pick the best opportunity to strike.”

“So no opportunities have come up? None at all in the last four months?” Brenner asked, almost sarcastically.

“It’s… complicated.” Jake said hesitantly, not willing to admit he had done something wrong. His ego was too big for that to happen.

“No, your emotions are complicated. You still have feelings for this girl. You see that boy as your child, not as the job.”

Jake hung his head, his hands clutching the table in front of him tightly, until his knuckles went white. “I don’t love her and I don’t love the kid. I know what I signed up for and I did it, she had the baby.”

“And yet we don’t. Because your ego is hurt over the fact that she left you before you could finish your job. That boy is number twelve, nothing more.”

“I’ll get him here.” Jake stressed, worried he’d actually kill Brenner from pure anger if he stayed and belittled him any longer.

“Don’t let that woman and the child get in your head.”

“I haven’t.”

“Then why is the monitor in pieces?” Brenner countered. “That woman was nothing more than a surrogate for the next stage of this experiment. Don’t tell me you actually feel something for them?”

“I don’t.” Jake said through gritted teeth. It was true, he didn’t love Devon, he didn’t love the baby she had, his baby - though he didn’t see it as his. He was merely the sperm donor, there were never supposed to be feelings involved, and there weren’t.

Jake just hated to lose and seeing Devon live her life with that boy at her side meant he was failing. There was a small part of him that was jealous, Devon was beautiful and if Jake could’ve kept her around he would’ve loved to - only if she could stay out of the way, which he highly doubted she would.

“I’ll get the kid, I promise. That fucking Chief is a mess, even if he is around, it’ll be easy to take him down. He won’t get in my way.”

“I know he won’t. Because you won’t be on this case anymore.”

“What?” Jake spat, turning on his heel and taking the few steps forward to get nose to nose with the doctor.

“You’ve proven you’re too close to this. I’ll send another out to scout for me.”

“You can’t just-”

“I can. We can’t waste anymore time.” Brenner spoke calmly and without another word, left the room and left Jake in the room alone, knowing he would let his anger out and destroy anything else he could get his hands on.

Brenner walked through the halls, keeping his head high. He made it to the door on the end and motioned for the guards in front to unlock it.

The dark room was illuminated by the lights in the hall. Brenner stepped in slowly, smiling down at the young girl who was huddled in the corner. He knelt in front of her, holding his hand out to her, which she hesitantly took.

“No more frowns, Eleven. You’ll have a friend soon enough.”

“Friend?” The girl whispered, her brows furrowing at the unfamiliar word.

“You’ll see.”

~~~~

“Hey, boys, I just have to run out for some supplies. You gonna be ok here by yourself?” Devon asked, leaning against the door frame of what used to be her clutter room, but was now the radio room that belonged solely to the group of pre-teen boys.

“We’ll be fine, Devon.” Will told her with a smile.

“Ok, I trust you. Don’t break anything. And don’t touch the wet paint.”

“We won’t, promise.” Dustin said, smiling his cheshire-like, toothless smile that always made Devon melt at how cute it was.

“Ok, I’ll be back soon.”

As soon as Devon left, the raucous cheering and yelling was back in full force. She shook her head, she had no idea where those boys got all their energy from. As she stepped outside onto the quiet main strip of town, she could’ve sworn her ears were ringing.

She walked to Joyce’s work, waving through the window as she passed to get to the door.

“Hey, are those boys giving you too much trouble?”

Devon laughed and shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Is Will acting on his best behaviour?”

“Always. You raised two angels. You’re gonna have to give me your secret.”

Joyce scoffed in amusement. “Like your little guy isn’t an angel.”

“He hasn’t been lately.” Devon called out as she roamed the aisles for what she was looking for. “He refused to let me give him a bath last night. He would only let Jim do it.” She sarcastically spoke his name as if he was some kind of god that must be worshipped. Charlie certainly saw him that way.

Joyce awed, as if it were the cutest thing she’d heard, making Devon scowl at her playfully as she approached the counter again.

“Yes, how sweet, I’ve been replaced.”

“It’s better than Charlie hating him.”

Devon nodded in agreement, remembering her boyfriend before Jim. Charlie would cry hysterically every time he was around. It was unbearable.

“How did Jim take it?” Joyce asked tentatively. Devon seemed like she was in a good mood so she doubted there had been a fight, but Joyce was still reluctant to bring it up in case she was just hiding her feelings well.

“He was really sweet.” Devon said, a soft smile on her face as she thought back to the night before. “I was worried he’d freeze up and get scared again, that we’d be having the same fight as before, but he was really good.”

Joyce smiled in relief, happy that the drama was over for those two.

“But he had this look in his eye.” Devon continued. “I could tell he was thinking about Sara. And I, I dunno, I just worry that it’ll be too much for him.”

“He said he could handle it.” Joyce reminded her, not wanting her thoughts to get in the way. Joyce knew how destructive that could be.

“I know, I just… I worry.”

Joyce nodded in understanding. She reached over and grabbed Devon’s hands in hers, squeezing comfortingly. She sighed heavily, her words weighing heavily in her mind as she debated whether or not to divulge everything she wanted to say.

She decided that Devon was too important to her and she was willing to give her advice, no matter how much it hit close to home.

“You know, when Lonnie was still around, I always got the feeling that there were a thousand and one things he would rather be doing.” She started, her face drawn tightly with suppressed emotions. Devon held her hands tighter, giving the only comfort she could offer.

“He wasn’t cut out to be a father and I could see it. You can tell who a good father is. It hurt when he left, it was overwhelming, but honestly, it was for the better. I’m so much happier without him and I know my boys are better off for it too.”

Devon smiled lightly. Joyce would always amaze her. She didn’t look like it, but the woman was a spitfire and strong and stubborn as can be.

“Jim can be an idiot sometimes, but he’s a smart guy and he’s far too stubborn to put himself in a situation he doesn’t want to be in.”

Devon nodded and smiled softly, looking at Joyce with thanks. She reached over the counter, wrapping her arms around the small woman who hugged her back just as tight. She cleared her throat from the emotion she felt welling inside her, blinking rapidly to stop her hormonal self from crying.

“Thanks, Joyce.”

“Of course.”

Devon pulled away, shaking her head and letting out a small laugh.

“We’re such moms, getting emotional at the drop of a hat.” Joyce laughed and nodded in agreement.

“At least we’ll be crying together.”

Devon smiled, giving her one last look of gratitude.

“Ok, I should go before those boys get the cops called on them for a noise complaint.”

“Welcome to my world.” Joyce chided her.

She quickly paid for her things and moved to the door, exhaling harshly. She didn’t expect to get so emotional on this errand run.

“Hey, Dev, can you tell Will to be home by 6?” Joyce called out to her before she left.

“You got it.”

Devon waved one last time and began making her way back to the studio. She was so thankful she had found a friend like Joyce. She would be totally lost without her. She had a few girlfriends back in Chicago, but none of them were moms and as soon as she became pregnant, they seemed to not understand her anymore and they had drifted apart quickly.

She would always owe so much to Joyce for everything she had done for her since coming to this town.

Devon was caught up in her thoughts, barely taking note of her surroundings, until something stood out to her, making her stop in her tracks.

The person walking behind her passed her, giving her a dirty look, which Devon didn’t even notice. Her eyes were wide and locked across the street on the white van that was parked just across the street from her studio.

She had been a little spooked after seeing it twice in one day at different locations, but now, seeing it where she worked after seeing it by her house and the restaurant she would go to, it was too many times to just be a coincidence.

The voice in the back of her head told her it was a red flag, that it wasn’t something to be ignored.

She averted her gaze from the van and quickly made her way to the studio, trying her hardest not to be too obvious and outright run.

She thought of those kids in there all by herself and her heart started to beat faster. What if something happened to them? What if someone hurt them? All because she had stepped out for five minutes.

She would never forgive herself.

Devon practically tore the door off its hinges as she stormed into the building, quickly making her way to the back room. She skidded into the room and let out a loud sigh of relief at the sight of the boys in the same position she’d left them in, yelling and playing just as they should be.

“Devon? Are you ok?” Will’s voice snapped her out of her daze. Her eyes fell on him, the only one that seemed to notice her, and she nodded, sending him a small smile.

“I’m fine. I just talked to your mom, she wants you home now.”

“Oh, ok.” Will frowned. Her words caught the others’ attention and they all pleaded with her to stay longer.

“Sorry boys, rules are rules.”

She felt bad as she saw them all dejectedly get their backpacks on and leave the room. She may have been paranoid over nothing but that voice in her head would not be going ignored. It had never steered her the wrong way and she wasn’t about to take any chances.

“I can drive you home, come on.” She offered, knowing there was no way she was letting them go in separate directions unsupervised.

~~~~

It took longer than expected, getting everyone home safe, but it was worth it. Her motherly instinct would not let those boys go alone when she knew something suspicious was going on.

She tried to tell herself to calm down, to think of it rationally, but every time she tried to think of an explanation, she couldn’t find one.

She had no idea why she seemed to see these white vans everywhere she went. There definitely wasn’t some colossal, town wide, plumbing crisis. She would’ve heard of it, or read it in the local papers. That kind of news would be hard hitting in a town as small as Hawkins.

It seemed like it was only her that saw them and it made her feel as though she was going insane.

Devon pulled into her driveway and as she got out of her car and turned to go to her neighbor’s house to pick up Charlie, she saw another white van down the street, turning down the street over.

Her heart dropped to her stomach and her face fell. Did it follow me?

“What the fuck?” She whispered. She felt certifiably crazy, she even closed her eyes and opened them again to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.

She quickly picked up her son, being a little too curt with the sweet old woman that watched him, and almost jogged into her house, locking every door and window she could find.

“Mama?” Charlie asked, on the verge of crying, as if he could sense her frantic mood.

“It’s ok sweetie.” She whispered, picking him up and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Mommy’s just had a long day. Why don’t you go watch your cartoons, ok?”

Charlie immediately lit up, nodding eagerly. She placed him on the couch and turned the TV on for him, knowing it would keep him distracted for hours.

Devon sighed shakily and made her way to the kitchen to the phone on the wall, she dialed the number she knew off by heart, her fingers tapping against her thigh nervously as it rang.

“Hawkins Police, this is Flo.”

“Hi, Flo, it’s Devon. Is Hopper there?”

“Hi, sweetheart. No, he’s off for the day. Probably on his way to see you right now.”

The teasing tone to Flo’s voice would usually have Devon giggling nervously and girlishly, but she was too wound up to really notice it this time.

“Ok, thanks, Flo. Have a good night.”

Devon barely heard her reply and hung up swiftly, biting her lip roughly. She moved to the front window, looking out the blinds, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The white van was nowhere in sight, which was a relief, but she still didn’t feel quite so comforted by that.

She closed her eyes, feeling her frustration rise. Jim better be getting here soon, she thought to herself.

Twenty minutes passed and there was still no sign of Jim. Devon paced across the kitchen, her thumb nail bitten down to nothing. It wouldn’t take him twenty minutes to get to her place from the station, so he had obviously gone home.

She called his place, tension rising as it rang and rang with no answer. She slammed the receiver down and cursed under her breath. Over the next hour she had tried to call him numerous times, even calling Benny’s with no luck.

Devon sat on the couch, her body stiff with fear and paranoia. She ran her fingers through Charlie’s curly hair as he sat on the floor in front of her, his eyes glued to the TV. She let out a shaking breath, leaning against the cushions behind her.

She knew she looked crazy and too paranoid for her own good. But she wouldn’t ignore that voice in her head that told her to be worried.

Jim, where the hell are you?

~~~~

Hope you all enjoyed this part! Season one will be starting soon, hope you’re excited ;)

Tags: @agirlinherhead

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged for the next parts!

[julia-highstorms]

The Girl With The Leopard Print Coat (Damien x OC (Ellie)) - NSFW

Summary: A sketchbook, punk music and a leopard print coat were everything that Damien Nazario remembered of that night.

Author’s note: this fanfic takes place in my “The Third Park” AU, before the events of PM, even before Damien met Allen and Nadia and Alana. This is a special part showing that Ellie was the first ‘Park cousin’ D actually met.

Copyright: Characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, only Ellie is mine. Damien is 100% human here and mine is a Male!MC named Allen. Santiago Cabrera’s, Ni Ni’s and all the gifs don’t belong to me.

Songs: 4ever by The Veronicas and Get You Alone by The Donnas are the songs that most inspired me to write this story, but I made a playlist with the songs that were playing during the rock show, songs that Ellie listened to as an emo-punk rocker girl (AKA what I listened to when I was a teenager and still listens to sometimes lol). The links for each song is in the fanfic!

Pairing: Damien x Ellie (OC)

Rating: +18 (drugs, sex and rock n’ roll)

Word count: 5260

Tagging my TTP readers: @christopher-powell @boneandfur @kennaxval @writtenbycandy @thequeenchoices @client327 @damienazariostan @never-ending-choices @walkerismychoice @laniquelovely @confessionsofabrokegirl @dangerous-capri15 @parkerattano @clarissafics @pilitella @hellomynameisdeviblaire @odetomars @cocomaxley @her-imperial-hangman-s @endlesswoods @miss-cordonia-deactivated201808 If you would like to be tagged, please, tell me!

The girl was wearing a band t-shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a leopard print coat, combat boots and a choker with spikes that matched her rocker style. She had a straight short black hair and, despite the bang partially covering her face, Damien Nazario could see that the stranger - she probably was around 20 - was pretty. Her curious dark eyes scanned the train car as she brought the sketchbook in her hands closer to her face.

From the spot where he was standing, Damien couldn’t see what she was doing, but using his investigative skills and basing on the way she kept glancing between the people in there and her sketchbook, the man guessed that she was drawing them. She already was doing it when he entered the car.

Then, her eyes locked on his. He gave her a small grin which she responded with a coyly smirk, her cheeks getting a shade pinker. Damien concluded that he was her next target as her hand expertly moved on her sketchbook.

Eleanor Zhou was a junior at Hartfeld University and one of her favorite hobbies was drawing strangers in trains. Especially when they were dashingly gorgeous like that one.

She had just finished sketching an old lady reading a book across her seat and was looking around, wondering who she should draw next, when her eyes locked on a standing figure a few feet from her.

He had his hair cut very short, clever brown eyes, a chiseled jawline, super kissable lips and his nose and dark eyebrows brought harmony to his handsome face.

Ellie felt a heartleap when she noticed that he was already staring at her - but not in a creepy way -, curiously. The attractive stranger - he was a few years older than her, in his mid-twenties - grinned slightly, as if he was allowing her to draw him and so she did. They exchanged a few more glances and smirks, until it was her stop. The girl quickly put her sketchbook and pencil in her backpack and hopped out of the train.

She saw him looking at her one last time as she walked down the platform of the Brooklyn Bridge subway station. The train and the gorgeous stranger were soon gone.

It was October’s last Saturday night and twenty-year-old Ellie was in New York City, her favorite city in the whole world (not that she had seen much of the world, but still). Her parents had let her go there to watch the show of her favorite and obscure femme punk band, Coagurot (they would never tour near Cedar Cove, her hometown, and they weren’t known enough to go to Hartfeld), only if one of her cousins agreed to go with her.

“Yes, Mom, I’m on my way to meet Nadia, and then we’re going to the bar where the band is going to play.” - she spoke through her phone. - “No, Allen won’t go with us because he’s out on a date... I don’t know when it will end, there are a lot of other bands playing tonight and I want to listen to them too.” - she heard her mother’s concerned voice from the other side. - “Yeah, I’ll text you when we get home, but you and Dad will probably be sleeping. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay and I’ll be back to Hartfeld tomorrow evening. Love you too, bye.”

She ended the call and let out a relieved sigh. Her mom always worried way too much. She was just going to watch a concert with her favorite cousin (and okay, Nadia Park wasn’t exactly the most responsible person in the world, but Ellie knew that that small cinnamon bun would fight anyone to protect themselves). If her mother knew about all those parties Ellie went to in Hartfeld and what happened there…

“Oh my God, you’re here!” - Nadia squealed as she pulled her cousin into a tight hug. - “Did you find your way easily? The subway map can be a little confusing!”

“Yeah, it was all good. Thanks for letting me sleep here today, by the way.” - Eleanor entered the small studio apartment. It was a mess like always, but at least the couch was free.

“Good! I’m sorry I didn’t meet you at the station, I was too busy looking for the perfect look!” - Ellie chuckled as she put her backpack down.

“You know we’re going to a punk rock concert, right? Not a fashion show.”

“I know!” - Nadia rolled her eyes and shoved her cousin playfully. - “But I have to look the part, you know! If they find out that my favorite band is Coldplay, I’ll be massacred there! So!” - she spinned on her toes. - “Do I look like a punk princess?”

“The tutu certainly gives you a princess look and the ripped pantyhose and combat boots are punk-ish. They’re beautiful, by the way, just like mine.”

“Girl, how can you wear them everyday?! They’re so heavy!”

“I guess we just get used to them.” - she shrugged. - “Besides, they’re way easier to walk around than high heels.”

“Hey, don’t you dare say anything about my heels! You got lucky that you’re tall!” - Ellie chuckled. Nadia was always the same. - “Anyway, when will the bands start playing?”

“They will start at 10 o’clock, but I guess Coagurot will play only around midnight.”

“Then we have enough time to gossip and grab something to eat before the show!” - Nadia said, applying a heavy makeup to her pretty face. - “So, any news?”

The bar was located in Manhattan and they ate hot dogs from a street food vendor on their way there. When the two girls arrived, a band was already playing.

“Oh my God, it’s Black Flag!” - Eleanor squealed excitedly, walking through the crowd to get closer to the small stage of the place, with Nadia following her close behind.

“The guitarist is cute!” - her cousin observed, making Ellie roll her eyes.

They enjoyed the rest of the show and more two bands played before Coagurot was finally announced.

“You used to love me but now your heart is cold as ice…” - the singer sang intensely, the crowd cheering wildly. Eleanor singed along, flipping her hair around as she rocked back and forth.

Even after Coagurot had finished their set and were substituted by another band, the two cousins continued dancing into the night, energized by the electric vibe of the place.

Damien Nazario asked for his fourth beer and another shot of Bacardi of that night. Maybe if he kept drinking, the alcohol would make all that noise more bearable. He was on his favorite dive bar, he liked to go there whenever he felt like celebrating - or just drinking, to be honest - and to listen to the people who performed there. They usually were jazz bands, but that night it was happening some kind of a music festival, with a lot of punk bands taking on the small stage.

Punk wasn’t really his scene; he liked the good old rock n’ roll better.

And he knew that he could just simply go home - it was past midnight already and he had to go work early on Monday -, but he saw a certain girl with a leopard print coat in the middle of that mosh pit.

And Damien firmly believed that coincidences didn’t happen; that it was some kind of sign. What were the odds of meeting her twice in the same night?  He should go talk to her when he had the chance.

...But she still was in the middle of the crowd, dancing alone and singing along to the song, so beautiful looking like she was having the time of her life. He watched her from the bar counter, sipping on his drink.

After he finished his beer, the man decided to go outside to smoke a cigarette. He was trying to quit it, but smoking always seemed to make the time pass faster, and the girl didn’t seem to be leaving the dance floor so soon.

After two hours of uninterrupted dancing and jumping, Eleanor Zhou’s legs and her dry throat were begging for a break. She looked around, searching for Nadia - who disappeared during the pit; she still wasn’t ready to be a part of it -, when she saw her cousin in one dark corner, making out with a long haired dude. Ellie chuckled to herself as she headed to the bar counter.

The girl asked for a bottle of water when she noticed a broad shouldered and not completely stranger figure walking towards the backdoor of the bar. After she got her drink, she followed him, heading outside, which turned out to be a smoking area.

The place smelled like nicotine, pot and piss, some people smoked in groups and there were couples with their tongues down each other’s throats, but Ellie didn’t care; her eyes were locked on the lone figure leaning against the building’s wall.

It was him. The guy from the train. That was a sign. It had to be. What were the odds of meeting him twice in the same night? She simply had to talk to him now. Besides, she was leaving NYC the next day. That was her only chance to talk to him.

Taking a deep breath, she walked towards him, her heart pounding inside her chest.

Of course Damien Nazario noticed the girl with the leopard print coat approaching him, but he just kept searching for his lighter, with a cigarette on his lips.

“Uh, hey.” - she greeted him with a coyly smile. He looked up to her face. She was even more beautiful closer, with her cheeks flushed due to all that dancing and jumping around. - “I guess I saw you at the train earlier.” - he finally got to light up his cigarette.

“And I saw you.” - he grinned back at her. - “How was the drawing?”

Her smile widened slightly. She felt happy that he remembered her. And he seemed easy to talk to.

“It turned out okay. If I had the sketchbook with me here I’d show you, but I left it at home. It’s a little hard sketching on a moving car, but you were great standing still. Thanks for that.”

“It was my pleasure. I’m Damien by the way. You?”

“Ellie.” - they shook each other’s hand. His hand was big and warm and hers was smaller and softer.

“So, Ellie… I was about to offer you a drink… but I guess you’re not old enough yet, based on your drink choice.” - he pointed to the bottle of water in her left hand. He liked the sound of her laugh.

“Well, I still can’t buy myself a drink, but if you’re really willing to do that, I won’t deny it.” - he chuckled softly. She was smooth.

“You really shouldn’t be telling me this.”

“Why, are you a cop?”

“Detective.” - he quickly showed her his NYPD badge. She seemed impressed but not intimidated by it. - “I’ve been promoted recently. This is why I’m here, actually. Celebrating on my favorite bar.”

“Oh yeah, you definitely seem to be on a celebrating mood. Drinking alone and smoking on the corner.” - she mocked him. His grin widened slightly too. She was bold and sarcastic; Damien definitely liked her.

“Well, I’d be happier if there wasn’t so much noise inside.”

“It’s not noise; it’s music.” - Ellie corrected him.

“All I can hear is a lot of yelling and no melody.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me you’re that kind of guy who considers only ‘classic rock music good’. This is such a turn off.”

“I’m not saying this… but I kind of agree with it.” - she rolled her eyes.

“And what do you consider ‘real music’, then, Mr. Detective? Which is your favorite band?”

“Dire Straits.”

“...Okay, they are good.” - she agreed with him, making Damien chuckle again. - “But that doesn’t mean that today’s music isn’t good too. They’re going to be tomorrow’s classic.”

He partially agreed with her.

“So you came here tonight for the show?” - she nodded at him, taking a sip of her water. He glanced at her rosy lips, wondering what was her taste. - “Which one?”

“Coagurot, a femme punk band from Texas. But they played like an hour ago and I’ve been enjoying the other bands too. Unlike someone.” - he decided to ignore her mockness.

“Hmm… and are you leaving any time soon?” - he saw a mischievous shine on her eyes.

“I don’t know.” - she shrugged. - “My cousin simply vanished after the mosh pit. I think she is making out with some random guy somewhere. What about you? Leaving soon?”

“I was planning on going home, but I guess I can stay a little longer.” - he scooped closer to her. Their lips were just a breath away, his thumb already brushing off the hair of her pretty face, when she suddenly pulled out, smirking mischievously.

“You know what? I guess you really should give another chance to my ‘noisy punk music’. What do you say?”

Damien knew she was playing with him. But he agreed to play her game anyway.

“Okay, sure. Why not?”

She smiled widely before shoving him back inside. He put out his halfway smoked cigarette.

“Hey! What are you doing?” - Ellie asked when Damien stopped walking suddenly.

“I told you that I would give another chance to punk music by listening to it, not by going in there.” - he pointed to the crowd jumping around like crazy right in front of the stage. The girl rolled her eyes.

“Hmm, are you scared of getting caught in the middle of a mosh pit, Mr. Detective?”

“No.” - he frowned and she knew that he clearly was lying. He was afraid of it.

“Okay, okay, we can listen from afar then.” - she said, leaning against the wall in the back of the bar, right next to him.

The listened to the edgy music in silence. Ellie bobbed her head following the rhythm of the song.

“Seriously, you have to confess that the beat is energising.”

“It certainly is… but how can someone dance to it? And by ‘dancing’ I mean using your body, not just your head.” - he kept criticising it. She rolled her eyes one more time before turning to face him.

“It’s simple; I believe we can dance to pretty much anything. All you need to do is move accordingly to the rhythm.” - and then she started throwing her head back and forth, her arms in the air, her hips swinging to the music in the right tempo. - “And feel the music.”

Damien watched the girl dancing in front of him, arousal building up inside him. He could have said that it was because of the alcohol, or because of that look in her eyes and her cheesy smile, or even the strangely sexy beat of the song that was playing, but the true was that he wanted her so fucking bad.

Without saying a single word, he suddenly pulled her in and Ellie felt herself pressed against his broad and firm chest, his arms already tight around her waist and the scent of cigarette mixed with the leather from his jacket and his perfume hitting her hard.

Her cheeks immediately got hotter and her heart beat faster, but she didn’t pulled out. In fact, she slowly looked up to his face, seeing his brown eyes darkened with lust searching for hers. She felt an exciting shiver running through her spine as he slowly leaned in and their mouths met.

To Ellie’s surprise, the kiss was incredibly gentle, but super hot at the same time. Damien’s lips lingered on hers, while his hands explored her body expertly, making her breath speed up. She deepened the kiss, throwing her arms around his shoulders, trying to get even more closer to him.

Suddenly, he changed their positions and Eleanor felt her back against the wall and Damien’s weight pressing her there, the warmth of his body enveloping her, his heart beating as fast as hers. Her head spinned and she felt so intoxicated by him as they tasted one another. It almost felt like the world had stopped around them.

She groaned softly when she felt his crotch hardening against her, and that was enough to make a heat pool between her legs too. Oh, she wanted him so bad.

They pulled apart when they needed some air, both feeling hot and bothered.

“Hey…” - Ellie murmured as Damien hid his face on her neck, softly sucking the smooth skin there, making her feel dizzier. She had no idea how long they’ve been making out, but she didn’t care.

“What?” - he asked, his thumb contouring the shape of her swollen, soft and delicious lips.

“What do you say we go somewhere a little more private?” - she proposed, a mischievous smirk already on her beautiful face.

The man grinned back.

“I’d like that. I want to get you alone and have you all on my own since we were in that train.” - he whispered in her ear, making her crave for him even more, if that was possible. He watched Eleanor biting her bottom lip seductively before guiding him through the people, her hand on his, their fingers intertwined.

As soon as they entered the restroom - they had no idea in which one they were, men’s or women’s, and if there were people around; they couldn’t care less - they stumbled together into the small stall, their mouths already tasting each other, their bodies eager for each other’s touch.

“Wait, wait.” - she whispered, stopping kissing Damien for a second. But it was really hard to keep her mind straight with his hands roaming all over her body like that. - “You have a condom, right?”

“Of course I have.” - he muttered back as he impatiently unfastened her tight skinny jeans.

“Well, it is always good to kno— oh…” - she moaned when his fingers found her sensitive core, underneath her clothes. She already was so wet and hot down there.

“Do you like this?” - he smirked, his forehead on hers, watching Ellie’s breath speeding up as he circled her clit. She nodded.

“Fuck me...” - she ordered before kissing him hard, in a way to contain her moans, fully aware that they shouldn’t make any sound. It all turned everything even more exciting.

Damien groaned when her cold hand found his stiff length, pumping it, her lips already on his neck, putting light and delirious kisses there. He felt himself getting dizzy.

When he couldn’t hold back anymore, he quickly fished a condom inside his wallet and put it on, while Eleanor took off her leopard print coat and hanged it on somewhere safe. She bought that coat with her own money from her internship and it wasn’t exactly cheap.

Suddenly, he turned her back to him, his hands already on the waistband of her jeans, sliding it down, along with her underwear, just enough for him to have access of her. Ellie hid her face on the stall wall, muffling a gasp when he slid inside her. Damien had to bit her neck to hold a moan as he filled her slowly, letting her and himself get used to the sensation of their bodies connecting. Fuck, she was so tight.

“Uh, fuck…” - she cursed when he started pressing forward and deeper insistently, his big hands gripping on the soft flesh of her hips. Again, it felt both tender and passionate. How could he do it? Make it feel almost gentle when they were fucking in a stall? That man was something else. - “This feels so good…”

“Shh, they’re going to hear us…” - he whispered on her ear, his hot breath against her skin. It felt so damn good inside her.

Arching her back, they moved together, gradually speeding up their pace, trying to contain their moans, their bodies tensing, craving for more. Ellie squirmed when one of his hands was back to that sensitive spot between her legs, bringing her close to the edge, until she felt like her whole body exploded in a million pieces. Damien let out a low curse, feeling her sex throbbing, her walls tightening around him, until he couldn’t handle it anymore and hit his own climax too.

“Holy shit…” - she murmured, feeling his weight pressing her against the stall wall and his arms still all around her, holding her tight.

After their breaths and heat gradually slowed down, he discarded the used condom away, they pulled up their jeans, sharing mischievous grins, and she put her coat back on. When they walked out of the stall, sharing another kiss, the restroom was empty, thankfully.

“Is that drink offer still up?” - Ellie asked him as they returned to the saloon, hand in hand.

“I won’t buy you anything alcoholic.” - Damien stated. She laughed but agreed that a soda was good enough.

As they waited for their drinks - a coke for her and another shot of rum for him -, the girl noticed that she had several texts and voicemails from her cousin.

“Where the fuck are you?! I couldn’t understand a single thing you were trying to say!” - Eleanor shouted on her phone, over the noise of the bar.

“Ellie! I am out… outside like in the back, you know?” - her cousin was talking in a slower pace. Fuck, was she drunk? Although Nadia was old enough to drink, she was such a lightweight. She could get drunk with a single beer.

“Yeah, I know, the smoking area. Are you alone?”

“No… I found this super nice dude… and his friends…” - she heard chuckles and giggles on the back.

“Alright, wait for me, I’m going there.” - Eleanor shoved the phone inside her pocket. - “I gotta go.” - she told the man standing next to her, who watched the whole exchange attentively.

“Already? Is everything okay?” - Damien asked.

“I guess. My cousin is drunk, and this means that this is my cue to go before she does something stupid.” - she put a light kiss on his cheek. - “Tonight was lovely, Mr. Detective.” - she whispered playfully on his ear before turning and walking away hurriedly.

“Ellie, wait!” - he put the money on the counter and tried to follow her, but a mosh pit started all of sudden and he almost got caught in the middle of it.

And then, the girl with the leopard print coat simply vanished in the crowd.

“Ellie!” - Nadia waved at her, surrounded by some guys. - “C’mere!” - Eleanor didn’t like the way they looked at both of them. She momentarily wished she had brought Damien with her, but she could handle them just fine.

“Nadia, it’s time to go. The last train leaves soon.” - she said, pulling her cousin closer. - “Did you smoke?” - she asked, smelling the distinctly sweet scent on her cousin’s breath.

“Hey, calm down, baby! Why the hurry?” - the long haired guy she saw earlier with Nadia said, circling them. Ellie glared at him, her hand gripping harder on Nadia’s forearm. - “Brad, give her some pot! It will make you feel all good and chill, baby!”

“No, thanks, Brad.” - she hissed, pulling her cousin out of the circle. All of the dudes seemed intimidated by her and let the girls go anyway. Thankfully all of them were too stoned to try anything. - “Did they do something to you? Did you smoke?” - Nadia giggled as she was being dragged back into the bar by her cousin.

“Juuuust a little… and, uh, it felt so amazing for a while, you know?! I felt like I could dance through the whole night…!”

“Oh my God, Nadia, you know you’re a lightweight and genuinely thought it was a good idea to smoke pot?!” - Ellie frowned disapprovingly.

She scanned the saloon, her eyes searching for a certain Mr. Detective, but he was nowhere to be seen. She mentally cursed herself; she forgot to give him her number. Maybe she would find him on Facebook or whatever later. Though he didn’t look like the type of guy who had any account on any social media. Hm, maybe on the NYPD website?

They walked out of the bar, back to the Manhattan streets.

“You worry way too much, Ellie, I feel great! Oh, do you have something to drink? My throat feels so dry!” - Nadia kept mumbling before taking a look around them, totally lost, not recognising the streets they walked through. - “Ugh, where are we going?”

“Home. If we‘re lucky, we’ll be able to take the last train.”

“Oh, okay.” - she turned to look at her cousin. - “I’ve had so much fun tonight, we should definitely do this again! And bring Allen with us next time!” - Ellie thought that it was a good idea; Allen had always been more sensible than Nadia and, if he had been there with them that night, they both would probably have been able to stop her from doing something stupid. Eleanor definitely was missing her other cousin that moment. - “Omg, he’ll be so mad when he find out how much fun we had!” - Nadia laughed hysterically for a quick second before turning to face her younger cousin. - “You had fun, right?”

“Oh, yeah.” - Ellie said as they entered the nearest subway station, unable to hide a mischievous smile as she remembered of a certain broad shouldered figure, the taste of his super kissable lips and his warmth and weight pressing her against a wall...

“Omg, I know this look! You have to tell me everything!!!”

“Later. First, let’s get you home.”

Although Damien and Ellie looked for each other after that night, both their lives turned upside down little after - he volunteered to take the case of Leon Rolph and met Alana; and around that same time, she lost her mother - and the memories of each other and that punk rock show and the bar’s restroom small stall were long forgotten from their minds.

8 years later…

Eleanor Zhou is in her bedroom, surrounded by a box filled with her memories of college times. She knows she should be helping the hired private investigator - with whom she has developed a casual relationship - in her living room, but she’s been feeling a little gloom lately with thoughts of her best friend, Lucy James, marrying that colossal misogynist asshole that is Robert Zucko. So, Ellie is looking through old pictures she took with Lucy when they were students at Hartfeld.

The woman puts the album back into the box and finds an old sketchbook. She flips the pages filled with drawings one by one - her favorite hobby back then was drawing strangers on public transport - until she stops short at a specific page, her jaw dropping open as she recognised the eyes that are staring at her.  And then, memories flow back to her mind. Memories of a small stall, punk music, kisses that tasted like nicotine and the hickey left on her neck that lasted for days.

“Holy fucking shit!” - she murmurs when she sees the handsome and (now) very known face. - “D!” - the woman jumps and sprints out of her bedroom.

Damien Nazario’s eyes scan thoughtfully Northbridge map, marking all the places where Robert Zucko seems to have a connection. The private detective was hired by Eleanor to investigate the shady pub owner and has been working on this case for a month now, but little progress has been made.

“D!” - he hears Ellie shouting, walking towards him, grinning from cheek to cheek.

“Have you found any dirt on Zucko? Any new clues?” - she stops by his side.

“Actually, no. But I found this!” - he grabs the sketchbook she extends to him.

Damien sees a portrait of himself, but years younger, with less facial hair and no dark circles under his eyes. But it definitely is him. And then, memories flow back to his mind. Memories of a small stall, noisy punk music, muffled moans and a leopard print coat.

He looks up to the woman with a wide smile on her lips standing next to him.

“Holy mother of god. You’re the girl in the rock show.” - Eleanor giggles excitedly.

“Seriously, what are the odds?! I can’t believe we actually met like, what, eight years ago?!” - she laughs as she plops down on his lap. Damien’s arms are automatically around her, although his attention still is on the sketchbook in front of them. - “I remember I kept cursing myself for a whole month for not giving you my number. I tried to locate you, but as I suspected, you didn’t have a single account on any social media! I even searched through the NYPD website, but when I found out that there were more than 50,000 employees, I gave up.” - he chuckles softly. - “To be honest, I kept waiting for you to find me somehow, since you were a detective. But you never found me and I assumed that NYPD had terrible detectives.” - he turns to look back at her.

“Hey, this isn’t fair. I’ve just had been promoted and everything I knew about you was a nickname. And how would I know that you weren’t from New York? Even detectives need more information than that.” - she laughs loudly, throwing her head backwards and her arms around his shoulders. - “And I searched for you. I looked for a punk girl and her sketchbook on every train I entered for a couple of months after that night, but I eventually gave up too. And then, I got obsessed with work.” - he frowns as he reminds of that time.

Just a few months after that brief encounter with Ellie, Damien Nazario met Alana Kusuma, and his life changed forever. And then he met Allen and Nadia and that thing with those Matches from Eros happened… that punk rock show just seemed to have happened a lifetime ago and the girl with the leopard print coat became a “whatsername”.

Eleanor notices the sudden shadow covering D’s face. Probably it has something to do with that ‘dark time’ he passed through before meeting her cousins, that Nadia had told her about.

Gently, she cups his handsome face and kisses him softly.

“Well, you found me now.” - she smirks at him. - “Seriously, I can’t believe you’re that Mr. Hot Detective guy. My mom was right, life is a crazy ride.” - he chuckles.

“Yeah, it is.” - he agrees, taking the sketchbook again and admiring his portrait one more time. Ellie snuggles closer to his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder. - “I always wondered how that drawing turned out in the end.”

“And do you like it?” - he looks back at her, a wide grin on his lips.

“A lot, yeah.” - Damien says, before leaning in and kissing her sweetly, his lips lingering on hers. And Eleanor Zhou gets the same sensation she had all those years ago when he kissed her for the first time. How it felt both tender and passionate at the same time.

“...Maybe I should make another portrait of you…” - she murmurs, feeling his big and warm hands dangerously exploring her thighs, beneath her skirt, making her heart beat slightly faster. - “Later…”

“Yeah, later. What do you say we reminisce on what we did on that stall?” - Ellie can’t hold back a laugh.

“Hell no, that thing was too small and dirty! God, the things we do when we’re young and reckless.” - Damien chuckles as she turns to face him, still sitting on his lap. - “Here is good enough.” - she grins cheesily at him, already unbuttoning his shirt. He smirks back at her.

“I guess we can take a quick break from work.”