#they’re both insane so I guess it’s a match made in Force heaven

[xxxcertifiednerdxxx]

So you’re telling me Jabba wasn’t even middle aged when he died? Cut Lawquane is actually the STEPFATHER of Suu’s kids?* VENTRESS AND QUINLAN VOS ACTUALLY FELL IN LOVE AND VOS FELL TO THE DARK SIDE AND VENTRESS DIED?!?!

*ok, Cut being a step-father actually makes sense, since the kids were born before the Clone Wars started. I guess I never really thought about that. Anyways.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

A will they, won’t they relationship with Seth Brundle would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous/Hope this is what you wanted!)

(I chose to do this outside of the plot but I wouldn’t be opposed to doing something similar during the plot <3)

- Seth was never an incredibly social person but seemingly out of nowhere, it became abundantly clear that he needed somebody in his life. An assistant; he’d reasoned with himself, somebody who could help him with his work while also ensuring he didn’t go insane staying cooped up inside his house all day. That was where you came into the picture. 

- You’d been working as an engineer/machinist when you first met him. Over the years, it became a habit of his to go to one specific company for his very important machinery and odd parts. You were a new hire of theirs, one he became anonymously and particularly fond of after seeing the level of care you put into your work. 

- It was during one of his routine pick ups that the two of you finally met face to face. It didn’t take him long to decide that you were the perfect person to employ; young, intelligent, precise, …pretty. After learning that you had a background in biology, he considered it a match made in heaven. 

- He asked if you’d like to see what he’d been building, planning to propose a partnership once he’d successfully amazed you with his invention. Since your shift was almost finished; and you were a tad bit curious, you took the bait and agreed to go with him. The rest is history.

- Seths never really had anyone to talk to about his work so it’s really a breath of fresh air when you come into his life. He can finally have a conversation with someone who’s on the same level as him and understands what he’s saying.

- The two of you can have deep, hour(s) long conversations with each other and not even realize it. Sometimes you’ll figure that you’ve only been talking for maybe an hour tops, then check the clock and find out you’ve actually been talking for three hours. Guess time ...flies when you’re having fun.

- Touching and staying close to each other’s sides any chance you get. You normally have to work in pretty close proximity so it isn’t all that hard to find an excuse.

- The two of you get to know each other very well, I mean, that’ll happen when you spend nearly all day and night with a person for days on end. But regardless, he can recite all your favorite things and uses it to his advantage.

- Sometimes, he’ll just surprise you with a treat or gift, usually something like buying you your favorite hot drink or dessert. He likes being able to make you smile and absolutely adores when you return the favor.

- Late night take out dinners after a long day of hard work. Some of your best memories have taken place on the floor of his apartment, cheap food container in hand and a smile on your face.

- Crashing at his place when you wind up working late into the night. Waking up and seeing you asleep on his couch/bed never fails to make his heart flutter and bring a smile to his face.

- Teasing and treating each other like you’re an old married couple. Every now and again you’ll bicker with each other and he swears you both sound just like his grandparents.

- The two of you have definitely been mistaken for a couple more than a few times. It never fails to make his heart race whenever someone says you look good together or calls you his girlfriend. He always tries to subtly look over at you to see your reaction, hoping that you don’t look bothered by the idea.

- He started calling you darling and honey jokingly; both because of your tendency to get mistaken for a couple and just to be a smartass, but then he just never stopped. It’s become a habit of his and one that he isn’t going to be able to break anytime soon, no matter how hard he tries.

- The amount of times he’s made you flustered with his compliments/praise; specifically after you spark an idea in him or make him realize something, is embarrasing. Oftentimes, he’ll kiss your cheek/forehead, laughing like he’s just gotten an adrenaline rush and calling you a genius.

- He’s definitely exclaimed that he loves you in these moments but you just think it’s strictly platonic, like how someone will say “god, I could just kiss you” when they’re overjoyed. If only you knew the truth.

- Whenever he gets something right/finally figures out what’s happening, he turns into an adorable fool. He giddily takes you by the arms and demands that the two of you celebrate, already moving towards the liquor cabinet as you try to calm your beating heart.

- Everytime you tell him that you believe in him or think he’s a good scientist, he has to stop himself from smashing his lips to yours.

- Theres a few times where he almost kisses you for real and you’re nearly sure he will. Once when you were both huddled around his computer, your faces inches apart (a fact you realize when you finally look at each other for the first time). He glances down at your lips and begins to lean in but stops himself, apologizing and stepping back with a shy smile.

- The second time is when you fix a major bug in his system, making everything work just the way it should. He’s grinning ear to ear as he calls you brilliant and a million other names, all but running over to where you stand. He hesitates for a moment; contemplating just doing what he’s dreamed of doing for so long, before he finally just pulls you into a tight hug. You never thought a hug would make you so dissapointed.

- Then there’s the times where he’s almost told you how he felt. There was definitely a few but one stands out to you even to this day. The two of you had been working together for a few months and he’d finally decided that he could completely trust you. He brought up the idea of adding your voice to his machine and couldn’t help but smile at how excited you got.

- You spent the next hour or so programming your voice into the system and once you were finished he very nearly told you that he loved you. Right at the last minute, he decided that he just couldn’t do it and instead told you that he was glad that the two of you met.

- He’s finally forced to confess his feelings to you about a year or so after you become partners. While you can’t deny that you love him, you also can’t wait around for forever so you agreed to go out on a date with an acquaintance of yours.

- When you tell Seth, he seems bothered by the idea but he plays it off like he just wanted your help in the lab. He very nearly says accepts when you offer to reschedule your date but ultimately decides that it’s not fair and tells you to have fun, giving you a forced smile as you promise to stop by afterwards in case he needs any help.

- When you return to his house later in the night, he asks you how it went, taking the time to tell you how nice you look all dressed up. You shyly admit that you weren’t really planning on seeing the man again which makes him visibly happier. It’s then that he finally tells you what you’ve been waiting to hear for so long.

“Y/n,” he starts abruptedly, turning around to face you “Theres something I’ve been meaning to tell you, something that I can’t hold back any longer. Y/n ... I am completely in love with you and have been since the moment I saw you.”

“Now if you dont like me back thats fine but I couldnt live with myself if I didnt at least try to tell you how I felt. It finally hit me that I could lose my chance forever if I don’t say anything and thats not a risk I’m willing to take. I never want to feel how I felt tonight ever again in my entire life. So ...what do you say?” He asked, his voice slowing to a nervous stop.

- It felt like a dream when you returned his affections. He’s so excited to be in a relationship, especially with you of all people. He’s surprised that you want to be with him but god is he glad.

- The two of you share your first kiss right then and there, slowly moving toward each other until you’re nearly chest to chest. You’re still gazing into each other’s eyes as his arms encircle your waist. You only close them once his lips press against yours, stealing your breath away.

- It’s safe to say that you spend all night wrapped up in each other’s arms, making up for lost time.

[serpienten]

embrasse-moi, mon chéri (i/vii)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A series of drabbles about kisses, a tumultuous relationship and two lovesick and battered superheroes with a traumatic past and a, hopefully, bright future.

This Chapter: First kisses are always exciting. With Bucky, though, it feels like flying.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: What can I say, this got a little out of hand. I haven’t written something worth publishing in a while so I’m actually really proud of how this turned out. I’d be insanely grateful if you could leave some feedback in form of a heart, reblog, comment or ask! I always love hearing other people’s thoughts on my writing.

SERIES MASTERLIST

She thinks she might be in love.

She’s never been in love before. It’s terrifyingly unfamiliar, what she’s feeling. Her heart flutters in her chest with every brush of his fingers against hers and the second the gentle touch is gone, it leaves a tingling behind that threatens to set her nerves afire. Every glance he shoots her way spreads a warmth throughout her, a blissful warmth that reaches every last part of her body from her earlobes to the tips of her toes. The feeling’s heady, dizzying, makes her lightheaded and doesn’t for one second fail to scare the crap out of her.

She’s never scared.

But it’s only their first real, actual date and she’s giddy like a foolish teenager who’s been asked out for the very first time. And foolishness or naiveté are completely unlike her.

She’s a top notch spy, only rivaled by Nat, purely suave, smooth, soft speech, and lethal red smiles. Deadly and seductive, she’s a mystery wrapped in tight, form fitting fabric, sharp wit, and charm. Heads turn whenever she saunters past, catching the eye of both women and men, gazes dropping to her tantalizingly swaying hips. She’d be lying if she says it doesn’t make her heart flutter with pride, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being wanted, desired. By whom never really matters. What matters is making her targets fall for her hook, line, sinker, get handed hearts and secrets. 

After tonight, though, she couldn’t care less about the prying eyes of strangers. The only eyes she wants to be looked at by are slate blue, twinkling jewels and absolutely intoxicating. The only person she wants to be looked at by is him. James. Bucky.

He’s shy at times, bashful, and seeing his cheeks redden or seeing him lower his head and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear makes her want to wrap him up in a blanket and give him tea. But when he isn’t, when he’s confident, cock-sure, cracking jokes and flirtatious as all hell, she longs to tear the blanket off of him and do other things. When he’s like that, and when she’s there, he likes to reach out and touch her. It’s usually an arm around her shoulder when they’re talking to Sam or Steve or Nat, or when she’s at the compound for movie nights, Bucky sits next to her, legs comfortably spread out, knee resting against her leg, and after a while, his head dropping to her shoulder. Sometimes, he even takes her hand in his, puts his large palm over hers and brushes his thumb over her knuckles.

And he’s always gentle.

There’s no moment in time when she doesn’t like Bucky, but she likes him the best when he’s happy. When he’s carefree. When Bucky’s free of all the demons that haunt him when he’s most vulnerable.

She loses a piece of herself everytime he holds her hand, looks at her like she’s the most precious thing on earth, treats her gently and respectfully and so goddamn softly she could cry right on the spot. Softness is something she’s hardly accustomed to, and even though she usually likes to be handled a little rougher, she basks in his gentle affections.

She’s a master at bringing people to their knees, but she’s putty in his hands, melted ice dripping down his fingers and all she can hope for is that he feels the same about her.

And it’s only their first goddamn date.

Just barely, she tightens her hold on his hand as they walk down the street, the orange glow of the streetlights illuminating their path. They’re shoulder to shoulder, fingers intertwined, talking quietly.

“-and then he put them into the fridge. Can you believe that?”

“You know, there are reasons why I don’t live in the compound, and this just made the list.”

A laugh bursts out of Bucky’s mouth and in an instant, she can’t help but grin up at him. He shakes his head, a fond smile still curling the corners of his lips upward after his laughter quietens down.

“Yeah, yeah. I get how Sam’s underwear in the fridge would cause a real loss of appetite in the morning. To be fair though, he’s never been that drunk.” Bucky starts to draw circles on the back of her hand while he speaks. “He swears it was a one-time thing and so far, he’s been true to his word.”

A short laugh bubbles up her throat. Goosebumps arise on her skin from the gentle stroke of his thumb and, barely able to surpress a shiver, she can’t resist trailing the fingers of her other hand up his suit jacket clad arm - fancier than usual, it’s a date after all - and lets it settle in the crook of his arm. She can be a little closer to him that way, feels his supersoldier warmth seep through the fabric of her jacket. 

She’s never even realized how cold she’s been before feeling him.

Bucky chances a long glance down at her. For a moment she thinks he might say something else, he even breathes in and opens his mouth a little as though he’s about to speak, but he ultimately decides against it. She wishes she could see what’s going on inside that beautiful head of his. He’s always hard to read though, even for her. 

Silence settles between them as they stroll ahead. It’s in no way uncomfortable, instead it envelopes them like a blanket, encapsulates them in their own little cozy, intimate bubble that feels more like home to her than anything ever has.

Her cheek nearly brushes his shoulder as she lowers her head, looking down at their intertwined fingers, heart still aflutter. The unfamiliar rhythm, the rapid thrumming in her chest had started the moment she’d set eyes on him for the first time and has only gotten stronger over time the closer her and Bucky got, the more he opened up to her and the more she trusted herself to come forward to him. And tonight the beating threatened to punch the breath out of her lungs.

She could’ve walked with him like this forever. Together, close, snuggled up against Bucky, not only warm on the outside but with a spark inside her that chases away every single bit of icy chill that has settled inside her over the years.

So, she’s understandably devastated when they arrive at her apartment building. Her arm drops from his but she doesn’t let go his hand, outright refuses to lose more contact then necessary. Bucky steps in front of her, chest to chest, a soft, tender smile pulling at his smooth, pink lips. She wonders what it would feel like to taste them, nip at them. Perhaps a little bit like heaven. Her teeth capture her bottom lip and bite down.

“Well,” she breathes, hair flying over her shoulder in a fluid motion as she throws a short glance behind her, “this is me.”

Bucky nods, something else joining his fond expression, flitting across his features and darkening his stunning blue orbs a bit. Something sadder.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says, volume of his voice matching hers.

“I had a great time tonight,” she admits. “Actually, I had an awesome time tonight. The best time in a really, really long time. Thank you.”

Bucky’s cheeks gain a rosy tinge and the grin that adorns his face is endearing, absolutely adorable. “Don’t thank me, doll. For you, I...” The grin softens a little and he shakes his head. “Anything for you.”

It’s her turn to blush, heart in her throat. “You really are precious, aren’t you?” She wants him to stay, imagines what it would feel like to fall asleep in his arms and wake up in the same place. Safe and loved. Appreciated and respected. She’s never in her life felt as high above in the clouds as tonight and she’s finally come to the conclusion that it’s all him. It’s all Bucky who’s making her heart, her head, her everything soar.

She doesn’t want to say goodbye yet.

The tip of Bucky’s tongue darts out to wet his lips and the movement draws her in.

Every passing second makes her realize that their time together is coming to an end for the day and, my god, she hates it.

She does not want to say goodbye yet.

Hopeful, she looks up at him, yearning for him to give her something to hold on to when he leaves to go back to the compound. Dissapointment washes over her when all he does is draw his lower lips between his teeth and clear his throat. He’s all up in his head again and she knows it.

Giving a small nod, she runs her hand up his chest and grabs onto his shoulder as she leans up and presses her lips to his cheek, neatly trimmed stubble scratching and tickling her mouth. Bucky draws in a shuddering breath when he feels her touch, grabbing her hand that’s still in his harder.

He smells otherwordly and she has to actually force herself to take a step back and not stand her forever, snug against the hard muscles of his upper body.

“Goodnight,” she susurrates. She turns, hand beginning to slip from his grip.

Time seems to catch up with Bucky too now, because he suddenly grips her hand tighter, more desperate and suddenly, she’s scarcely got time to be surprised, he pulls her back, arm looping around her waist. She can’t help but think how right he feels against her, fitting snugly, her missing puzzle piece. Nimble fingers grab the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling at him, pulling him down to rest her forehead against his.

“I don’t want this to be over yet,” she quickly says, faces only inches apart, breathing each other in. Bucky’s scent clouds her mind, the heady cologne, earthy, sandalwood, leather and smoke wrapping around her.

He shakes his head, hastily. “I’ll be damned if I let you go up there without givin’ you a proper send-off, darlin’. I ain’t gonna half ass this.” His voice is thick with emotion, conviction most of all and the Brooklyn drawl makes one of its rare appearances.

“Oh, darlin’,” she chuckles, rejoices when Bucky huffs out a tiny laugh, “I’m dying to see what that send-off looks like.”

Bucky gives her a nod, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tilts his head forward, bumping his nose softly against hers. “Good,” he rasps. Their mouths are close enough to be touching each other, close enough to taste and feel nothing but the two of them.

The tension, crackling electricity is getting stronger, harder to bear. She combats the urge to lean forward and press her lips against his, wanting to let Bucky make the first move. She’ll let him tread at his own pace, no matter how hard it is pulling on her nerves. She can’t resist whispering against his irresistable mouth, though. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky bites his lower lip harshly. “Goddamit, doll, you’re....” He trails off again with a shake of his head and finally, finally leans forward.

It’s the softest pressure against her mouth, sweetest of brushes and the most alluring of tastes and it lights her insides on fire. She’s burning, harboring a raging fire inside, searing hot and for a second she’s afraid that it’s singing him because she feels him suck in a sharp breath. The kiss is delicate and she curves into him, closer, until they’re on the brink of coalescing. He feels divine. She’s become weaker in the knees, certain that if he wasn’t holding her, she’d for sure be falling right now. Well, she’s falling anyway, but he’s somehow always there to catch her.

It’s over far too soon. She swallows down a whine that threatens to escape her throat but what she can’t help is following his lips as he pulls back a little to take a deep breath.

Bucky chuckles, tightening his hold on her and giving her lips a short peck. “Gotta let an old man breathe, doll.”

Fuck breathing, she wants to say. Fuck air, if I can feel those hands holding me and those lips kissing me I’ll gladly die right on the spot.

Instead, she cups his face between her hands, thumb tracing the outline of his lower lip. “I know you got a mission in the morning, but do you wanna come upstairs?” She captures his lips in another deep, sweet kiss. “I’ve got cookies,” she mumbles against his mouth.

He snickers into the kiss. “I’m usually not persuaded so easily but cookies? If they’re chocolate chip I might just faint.”

Smirking, she takes a small step back and waves towards the entrance to the apartment building. “You’re gonna have to come and see, aren’t you?”

Her heart feels lighter than air in her chest when he beams at her, slips his fingers through hers and pulls her inside.

Yeah. She’s definitely in trouble.

[blouisparadise]

As promised, here the continuing rec list of fics where Louis is called pet names. Part one can be found here, and when it’s out, part three will also be linked here. Happy reading!

1) Tie You Up and Make Me Scream | Explicit | 2166 words

AU where Harry teases Louis and it becomes a game until they cant handle it anymore and escape to have tent sex while the rest of the boys are in the other tents.

2) Feel The Need | Explicit | 4898 words

Louis and Harry attend Liam's Halloween party. Risky Business ensues.

3) Just Stop Your Crying (It’s A Sign Of The Times) | Explicit | 5864 words

My own imagining of the inspiration for Sign of the Times.  Featuring boys in love, even after all this time.

4) We’ll Stumble Through Heaven | Explicit | 6504 words

Louis likes to be a good boy for his alpha.

5) Raised on Rhythm and Blues | Explicit | 8034 words

“That look on your face makes me think you’re not cooking me spaghetti fast enough,” Louis announces as he walks back into the kitchen. Harry knows exactly where Zoe gets her habits from.

“Cooking for my two beautiful and insanely intelligent children, not for the weird bloke that sleeps in my bed and eats all my food,” Harry answers, tilting his head and wondering if he should add more sauce.

6) Forever, Uninterrupted | Explicit | 8578 words

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis' bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It's definitely not what he thinks.

7) Spice Up Your Life | Explicit | 9501 words

After a conversation with his Uni friends, Harry worries that his relationship with Louis has lost it's spark.

8) Infinitely All For Me | Explicit | 10630 words

The Alpha Louis' been betrothed to since he was 14 has finally come of age and Louis' been delivered to his home.

9) Keep Holding Me This Way | Explicit | 13747 words

An English grad student, a frat jock, and an unimpressed rich boy walk into a bar. No one walks out.

10) Let’s Take the World By Storm | Explicit | 14656 words

Harry lifts his head off Louis' chest to look at Louis' face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

“I don’t know, but our sex life feels a bit boring, ‘sall,” Louis says, completely avoiding eye contact.

“Boring.” Harry says flatly. He doesn’t say anything more, and Louis looks up to see that Harry seems to be mulling it over.

“Yeah, boring," Louis says, and keeps talking before Harry can pipe up. “I mean, think about it. We’ve been dating since X Factor, and now things are starting to drag a bit. We don’t even have the time for handjobs anymore, much less actual sex.”

11) The Seed Inside You, Baby, Do You Feel It Growin’ | Explicit | 14793 words

Louis really wants Harry to get him pregnant.

12) Oops, Baby, I Love You (In That Order) | Explicit | 25344 words

The minute Louis Tomlinson decides he don’t need no man to start a family, Harry Styles literally falls into his arms.

13) Another Day Gettin’ Into Trouble | Explicit | 25619 words

Harry’s drunk when the idea occurs to him. He’s also a pop star, so sometimes his drunk ideas turn into actual things instead of just ideas. The clone-a-willy kit is one of them.

In Harry’s defense, when he first thinks about it his intention is just to buy the kit and give it to Louis to make his own dildo with, because that’s what he wants anyway, right? To have a penis filling him up?

Then he realizes that it would be weird if Louis made a copy of his own dick to fuck himself with. It’d be super weird. Louis fucking himself? That’s a weird idea. Harry’s pretty sure Louis wouldn’t like that.

Clearly the only solution here is to use his own dick for the mold.

14) Force of Nature | Mature | 25672 words

Louis is a shy, young musician who doesn't want to go to Harvard.

Harry is a confident,  second year athlete who likes to have a good time.

When their paths cross while their families are vacationing at the same lake resort, what begins as a summer of fun becomes a defining journey that might just change everything.

15) Up To No Good | Explicit | 26525 words | Sequel 1 | Sequel 2

Harry doesn’t think of himself as a womanizer, not at all. Sure, he enjoys sex, enjoys how women feel underneath him, and by some people’s standards he has sex with quite a lot of people, but that’s no reason to tell him that he can’t have a female PA anymore.

It’s especially no excuse for giving him a male PA who’s possibly the most gorgeous boy in the world who won’t even let Harry look at him for too long.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

16) Always Come Back To You | Explicit | 28862 words

“I’ll do it,” Harry offers brightly. No one even blinks. “I’ll do it?”

Louis sighs irritably. “Shut up,” he orders, tossing a pillow in the general direction of Harry’s face. This is a terrible time for jokes, especially Harry’s lame, old people ones.

Not that it was an old people joke. Just that most of the time Harry’s jokes consist of knock-knocks or terrible puns. The type of jokes old people like, Louis’ pretty sure. His nan always finds them hilarious when Harry tells her one.

Harry bats the pillow out of the air without even blinking. “Be reasonable, Lou,” he says in his most reasonable voice.

Louis is perfectly reasonable, thank you very much, and he’s also frustrated and upset and tired and he really wants to punch something. Maybe he should have held on to that pillow a little longer.

“You’re not gonna fucking do it,” he snaps. “That’s the last thing I need.”

17) Blind From This Sweet, Sweet Craving | Explicit | 31170 words

"So, I guess we'll go?" Louis asks later, when Harry has calmed down and eaten his weight in Chinese food. He plays with this chopsticks, spearing another piece of chicken and pops it in his mouth. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. We could make it an adventure."

Harry observes him, watches him seated across from him on their old living room carpet, with a container of food on his lap. He's fidgeting, avoiding meeting Harry's gaze–he probably knows that Harry's mad at him for ruining the one chance they had to get out of this situation. And he's not wrong, Harry is definitely very mad. Harry wants to strangle him and castrate him and smack him upside the head.

But he's also Harry's best friend, and despite everything, despite all the fuck-ups and the plot twists and everything just not playing out the way it should, he'd still rather be stuck in this situation with Louis than any of the other boys. He's got Harry's back, and in a weird, abstract way, he knows they'll be able to get out of this situation, together.

Harry sighs. "We're going," he says resignedly, his shoulders slumping.

Oh well. There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

18) Cupid’s Chokehold | Explicit | 35326 words

Louis is a Cupid who tries to match up Niall and Harry. It doesn't work out as planned.

19) Mark My Word (We Gon’ Be Alright) | Explicit | 35524 words

"He’s always known that there would come a time when Harry would bond with some beautiful, quiet omega, and they would have lots of curly-haired pups and live happily ever after.

Knowing it and living it are two very different things, though. Watching the object of your affection desperately search for a mate and completely disregard you as an option is all sorts of painful, but it is what it is, and Louis is just going to have to learn to live with that."

20) Who Would’ve Thought | Explicit | 44275 words | Companion Fic

The idea doesn’t come to Louis until they’ve been at the bungalow for a couple of days. Harry has no idea that he’s going to pop a knot. He’s been living his life with the expectation that he’s going to be a beta, and Louis isn’t going to tell him otherwise.

Louis is an omega, though, and most omegas want to be filled up with a knot,  fucked the way their bodies are made to be fucked, and Louis is no different. In ten years he wants to have an alpha waiting for him at home who will hold him down and fuck him exactly the way Louis wants to be fucked without worrying that they’re going to expect him to stay at home, open a joint bank account, raise a litter of babies, cook and clean and, most importantly, be submissive. For that to happen Louis needs an entirely different kind of alpha.

And so the plan is born.

21) Tangled Up In You | Explicit | 45152 words

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

22) Nobody Does It Like You | Not Rated | 58820 words

Louis isn't looking for a home, but he finds one in Harry.

23) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 63000 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

24) Why Can’t It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

25) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding.

Harry and Louis choose the latter.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[keeroo92]

Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch25 (V x Reader)

Chapter 25 - To Mourn is to Have Loved

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June 15th, 8:32 am

It doesn’t take you long to put two and two together when you regain consciousness to the smell of nicotine and oil, the feeling of comfortable padding beneath your body a dead giveaway. You clench your jaw and seethe in silent frustration at your failure, already making the logical assumption that V must have gotten you away from the horse and its rider.

Back in Nico’s van again… did he seriously leave me behind again?

You open your bleary eyes to ask, fully expecting to find your mechanically inclined friend working on some contraption nearby, box of cereal on hand.

Instead, a young brunette in a spare change of Nico’s clothes greets you with a wary smile, her short hair bouncing slightly as she moves closer to you. Her eyes are extraordinary, one red and the other a bluish-green shade.

“Hey, how ya feeling?” the strange woman asks kindly. You stare at her blankly for a long moment of awkward silence before her question penetrates your stupefied mind.

“Uh, okay I guess. Who, sorry, but who are you?” you ask her uncomfortably and she makes a face as she responds.

“Oh yeah, my bad. I’m Lady, good to meet you! Nico said your name is Y/N, right?”

You sit up slowly, still slightly disconcerted at the presence of a new person, after so long not seeing a new face. “Yeah, that’s right. What’s going on? Wait, the Lady? As in, Dante’s friend who faced Urizen Lady?”

 Holy shit, she’s alive?

Lady’s oddly colored eyes darken at the mention of the demon king and she looks away as she mutters a quiet yes, biting her lip anxiously. You wince in guilt and sympathy at the obvious signs of trauma she displays before her face resets into a guarded smile.

“Sorry, that’s probably not a pleasant memory,” you apologize quickly. Lady’s eyes soften slightly, and the tenseness in her body eases just as Nico tromps into the van with a sigh, smelling like she just finished a cigarette outside.

“Any word ye- oh hey you’re awake!” she blurts with a wide-eyed grin, coming to sit next to you and wrap an arm over your shoulders affectionately.

“Before ya ask, V’s fine. He and Nero went back out together after he brought ya to me. They’re in the subway now,” she informs you carefully, and your shoulders tense as frustration pools low in your belly.

 I swear, if they’re gone for three days again he won’t have to worry about merging with Urizen! I’ll kill him myself!

A familiar sound stops your furious thoughts from spiraling any further as your old phone rings from the front seat. Nico gestures at you to do the honors and you pick it up silently, still upset at both of the two men who might be on the other side.

“Is Y/N awake yet?” V’s worried voice asks impatiently. You warm with the knowledge that his first concern is you, anger at being left behind fading to a low hum in the back of your mind as you answer him.

“I don’t know, is she?”

A relieved sigh greets you, followed by a low chuckle. “When she speaks, the voice of heaven I hear,” he purrs finally, making a shiver run down your back at his playful tone. You have to clear your throat before you respond.

“Where are you guys?”

“Oh, you’re going to love this, little fox… we’re in the subway exit by the opera house,” he replies, and you can hear the amusement in his voice easily. You grin enthusiastically and try not to squeal with excitement.

“We’ll be right there!” you tell him happily, and he rewards you with another dry chuckle before saying goodbye and disconnecting.

You turn to face Nico, a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk twisting your lips as you speak.

“How fast can you get us to the opera house subway station?”

Her face splits and she cracks her neck as she stands, already striding to the driver’s seat with a confident sparkle in her gaze. You join her up front in the passenger seat and strap in hurriedly, fully expecting Nico’s unfathomable driving style to make the precaution necessary. You look back to see Lady roll her entrancing eyes and brace herself on the couch as the van lurches into motion.

 For once, I’m grateful she’s such an insane driver!

Nico takes an access tunnel to get underground, the van speeding through the darkness rapidly. She seems to naturally know how to get where she’s going, not once stopping and looking around and no map anywhere in sight. To your amazement, it only takes her five minutes to reach the two men; with a final burst of speed the van smashes through a concrete wall and comes to rest in the low lighting of a subway tunnel with a screech of rubber.

“Help has arrived! Got any cash?” Nico shouts at V from the open window, but he ignores her and instead comes to your side to open the door for you with a smirk. You unbuckle your seatbelt and take his outstretched hand, wrapping your arms around him in a hug the moment your feet touch the ground.

 He smells so good…

You tilt your neck upwards to press your lips against his briefly, all too aware of your audience as Nico wolf whistles. You shoot a glare at her as you pull away from V but she only waggles her eyebrows in return with a suggestive grin.

“Get your things, little fox. Nero’s waiting for us above,” V murmurs quietly and you beam at the thought of traveling with both of your two favorite men, and possibly being able to see the opera house again. You dash inside the van and grab your weapons and backpack excitedly, barely noticing Lady and Nico in your rush. You rummage through your suitcase for a moment, adding a few choice items to the backpack before you hug Nico goodbye, waving at Lady as you rejoin V where he waits, reading silently.

“Ready!” you announce, and he calmly closes his book, exaggerating his slowness as he tucks it away in his vest, smirking at your eagerness. Impatient, you start walking backwards away from him teasingly, his emerald eyes sparkling in amusement as he catches up to you in a few of his lengthy strides. Together, you ascend into daylight, blinking like bats at the sudden change in brightness.

For a moment you aren’t sure where you are, the landscape so heavily mangled by the Qlipoth that you don’t recognize it. Chunks of rubble are strewn everywhere, the road split into several different levels from the numerous roots making their home beneath the pavement. You pan your gaze, noting the red double decker buses and gasp as you see the buildings in the distance.

The previously flat area now features multiple levels of elevation, several structures having been forced to new heights above their foundations by several stories. Through a gap in the devastation, you can see the main structure of the Qlipoth. The way it moves slightly, as if it’s taunting you, makes your blood boil in rage.

 We’re coming for you, Urizen! You’ll pay for what you’ve done.

Then you see the opera house and your rage vanishes inside a well of sadness.

The entirety of the front entryway is gone. The wall with the mural of La Boheme, the beautifully carved columns that framed it, the gilded arches that led to the balcony stairwells. Even the damn bathrooms are gone. Where once stood the most awe-inspiring façade you’d ever seen, only empty air remains. Your entire body sags, a mournful ache settling in your gut.

“It’s… it’s gone…” you whisper, disbelief staining your voice.

 I’ll never get to see an opera there…

“Not all of it, little fox. Look down,” V tells you gently, his words a tiny puff of air that rekindles the ember of hope in your heart.

The ember sparks a flame as your eyes drift downwards to see the performance hall mostly intact, the stage still holding set pieces from the most recent show. Decorative statues have fallen from their homes on the columns, their shining forms lying in the refuse near the lip of the stage. The balconies stand in silent judgement of the scene, their red hangings an echo of the heavy cloth that still drapes across the stage.

 At least there’s that much left.

“Would you like a closer look?” V asks you nearby. His hand finds yours, long fingers filling the gaps between your own perfectly. You give him a grateful squeeze as you take the first step downhill, following the path of the devastated roadway down as far as it will take you. Halfway down, Nero steps into view from behind a fallen column, a wry smirk adorning his features.

“Took you guys long enough… feeling alright, Y/N?” he asks you as you reach him, already pulling you into a one-armed hug. You nod against his firm shoulder before he releases you to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably, a light stain coloring his cheeks at the obvious display of his care for you.

“We should get moving,” V states simply. Nero nods and the three of you continue on down the road toward the opera house. To your surprise, there are lit torches on the stage, the flames licking in a ghostly shade of blue. The shade reminds you of the horse and rider and you shudder uncomfortably. The sets are beautiful, painted castles and towns made of plywood. You try to imagine what it must have looked like during a performance, the singers costumed in medieval style dress powerfully singing their arias to a full crowd, the masses dressed in their finest to match the elegance of the venue.

 They’ll rebuild it. They have to.

You climb onto the stage, Nero and V beside you as your curiosity drives you forward. Even if you do manage to see an opera someday, you doubt you’ll be able to sit this close let alone have the opportunity to explore backstage. Energy surges through you at the thought, a pleased flush staining your grinning cheeks.

 I wonder what kinds of props I’ll find? Or if there are any costumes in the back?

Five loud crashes crush your dreams of exploration as a quintet of demonic knights drops down from above, swords and shields held menacingly in front of their intimidating forms. You recognize them; these are the same type of demon that sliced your hip open all too recently. You take a few fearful steps back as Nero and V advance, your stomach dancing in a ballet of terror.

“Nice! Getting the band back together, huh?” Nero quips with a taunting smirk.

“What evil lurks… I must destroy!” V intones harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose and glaring intensely at the foes. You swallow nervously and draw your sword, mentally preparing yourself to fight as defensively as you can and stay out of the two men’s way, hoping you don't get hit again.

“I thought that was the plan all along,” Nero comments dryly, drawing his own sword.

A cacophonous rumble draws your attention behind you as the heavy golden frame of the stage crashes to the ground, more stone joining it as the entire stage starts to rumble under your feet. Your eyes widen and you catch your breath as the stage moves, the structure no longer held in place and sliding downhill at a speed to rival Nico’s driving. Adrenaline pulses through you, realizing you have nowhere to run now.

 This day just keeps getting better...

V flicks his wrist and a whirlwind of black announces Griffon and Shadow’s arrival as he drops into his battle stance, eyes glued on the demons as he circles the stage gracefully. Griffon dashes forward to land a heavy blow with his talons against the center demon. It stands slightly taller than its fellows, its cape a beautiful shade of violet. Shadow shoots ahead with numerous black spikes elongating from her body, reaching out to strike the same central demon.

Nero aims his pistol one handed, squeezing the trigger repeatedly and releasing a stream of bullets on the same tall demon. He lowers the gun once it’s empty, switching to his blade and surging forward with a cry, slashing powerfully against the demon’s waist. It staggers but recovers quickly and aims at the young warrior. Your heart clenches as the sword descends, remembering how painful it was to be slice by the brutal blade, but Nero artfully dodges to the side with a laugh. He hops lightly, landing briefly on top of the neighboring demon and slashes at it as he drops down behind it, his sword leaving a nasty trail in its wake.

You’re forced to redirect your attention as one of the shielded knights advances on you, its steps slow and measured and easy to counter. For a moment your fear paralyses you, the echo of the ache in your hip reemerging in a treacherous reminder of what happens when these demons land a blow. Gathering your senses, you back away carefully, looking for an opening in its stance to exploit but the shield is too large.

“V! Nero! Can you hit it from behind while it’s focused on me?” your panicked voice shouts out to your allies, not taking your eyes off the enemy before you for an instant. You see a flash of motion behind the demon, a sound like an aluminum can being crushed, and it starts dissolving into ash before your eyes to reveal Nero already sprinting to the next foe. You scan the stage, taking stock of the battle.

V is on the other side, intense emerald gaze locked on the lead demon as he directs Griffon and Shadow’s brutal attacks. Two of the lesser knights remain, Nero engaging one nearby and the other advancing on his unprotected back. A split second of terror and hesitation hits you before you tenaciously subdue the fear and run forward, blade extended as you attack the demon sneaking up on your friend.

Your blade strikes true, piercing its upper thigh through the armor, much to your surprise. You pull the blade back, eyes wide and fear-dilated as it turns to face you, and over its silver shoulder you spot Nero finish off the other knight and turn to help you with yours. His blade flashes out, hacking the demon’s armor apart forcefully. It staggers and you step forward with a vengeful grown to land a slash of your own on its arm, your blade somehow ripping through the metal once again. With a final shout, Nero hacks at its head and the armored creature dissolves into ash.

That just leaves the tall knight. It’s still focused on V, his summoned friends having thoroughly marked it with their unforgiving blows. Its armor is dented and scratched, riven in two in some places and dripping demon blood. Nero sprints forward, but you refrain. You know the two men can finish it off easily enough.

“Slice them,” V’s dark battle tone commands, and Shadow shifts into her familiar bladed form, the sharp edge splitting the demon’s armor even further. She lands just as Nero lunges forward, his flaming blade piercing right through the creature’s gut in a death blow.

“Guys! We gotta get OFF THIS THING NOW!” Griffon cries from above. Shadow vanishes, her portion of V’s tattoos darkening to mark her return as he dashes alongside you and Nero for the edge of the stage and leaps off. The three of you land more or less gracefully on the earthen ground and turn to watch as the stage falls into a pit of darkness, a chasm opened by the Qlipoth. You choke back a sob as the last remaining portion of your beloved opera house sinks into the depths, never to be seen again.

 NOW it’s gone… gone forever. Even if it is rebuilt it won’t be the same.

It strikes you then, how odd it is that you’re as upset by the loss of this historic building as you are by the loss of thousands of the lives of your fellow citizens. Maybe because you never bonded with anyone in the city, never cared enough to try. None of them mattered to you, not really. You were upset that they were dead, enraged by the situation, yet felt almost no personal grief for them. You cared when their lives were in your hands, but that wasn’t a personal connection; more a result of your soul-crushing guilt than evidence of your humanity.

The opera house had meant something to you, had stood as a symbol of hope in a hopeless world. A beacon of the arts when you needed it most, when every day was the same as the one before and you couldn’t see a path forward that actually resulted in happiness for you.

 And now it’s gone.

The tightness in your chest intensifies, tears threatening to spill from your quivering eyes as V comes to stand beside you. His hand finds yours, fingers twining together tenderly as he speaks.

“I’m sorry, little fox. I know it meant quite a lot to you,” he murmurs softly, and you let out a shuddering breath and squeeze his hand in gratitude for his understanding.

“It… it did. But it was only a building. There are more important things to worry about,” you remind him with a sad smile.

Nero comes over to stand on V’s other side, a rueful smirk twisting his lips. “Took us long enough to get here. What, tired already?” he teases you and V, making light of the tense expressions on your faces.

“I’ve just remembered something… This town was attacked once before,” V announces with surprise coloring his tone.

“Is that so?” Nero comments.

V steps forward, pulling you with him as he approaches a small green horse mounted on a metal coil; a child’s playground toy.

“I was here… I can still see it. In fact I was playing right here,” V adds, dropping your hand to reverently touch the green horse in memory. His eyes seem haunted as he looks around, searching for something. He uses his cane to point to a house in the distance.

“That was the house,” he continues, “This is where we part ways. You go ahead.”

You and Nero both stare at the lean poet in surprise, eyes wide at his declaration.

“You’re gonna miss all the fun,” Nero teases lightly. V takes your hand again and frowns slightly, his emerald gaze darkening.

“No, I must seek the devil sword Sparda,” he rumbles, and Nero stares at him in shock.

 What the hell is he talking about? And why does Nero look so… scared?

“What? Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, trust me,” the young warrior urges the poet, worried gaze flicking to yours for some support. You have no idea what’s going on and stay silent.

“You are not the only one who thinks so. But to win this fight, we’re going to need all the help we can get,” the poet assures him, turning to walk away with you following close behind. You shoot one last concerned look at Nero before you and V leave him behind,

The two of you walk in silence for a long time, navigating a labyrinth of wreckage and devastation. Your confusion swirls in your mind as you try fruitlessly to remember something, anything, you may have heard or read about this supposedly powerful sword. Nothing comes to mind and you sigh in frustration as you give up and ask V.

“So, what’s the deal with this sword?”

The tattooed poet hums softly in acknowledgement, choosing his words carefully as he steps over a hunk of stone in his path. “It’s a blade with a complicated history. Originally it was wielded by Sparda himself, and when he sealed the Underworld off he imbued the sword with his power to strengthen the seal. To this day, it holds that power. It is most effective in the hands of Sparda’s kin, though it requires great strength of body and mind. I have a theory that Nero is a descendant of Sparda, and he may be able to wield it against Urizen,” the poet explains patiently.

 Oh, ok then. It’s just a sword that has demonic power inside it. Totally normal.

 What even is my life anymore?

A few short steps later and the two of you emerge in the remains of a graveyard, some of the graves having been shifted so far by the Qlipoth’s growth as to now be at a ninety degree angle from the ground you stand upon. V pauses at the precipice of a steep cliff, twisting his wrist to summon Griffon in a maelstrom of black shards as his arm lightens considerably. The blue demon lands on a nearby plinth with a flutter.

“What’s up, Shakespeare? Little lady,” the avian caws out, his three pronged beak splitting in a reminder of his strange origins.

“We need you to get a closer look around, the devil sword Sparda is nearby and we must find it,” V instructs him, and he lifts off with a huff.

“More scout duty… alright, be right back,” Griffon complains as he flaps away. You wait with V at the edge, glancing quickly at the crevasse below with a shudder.

 Don’t fucking fall here.

Griffon returns quickly, clearly agitated by whatever he spotted.

“Did you find it?” V inquires quietly.

“Uh, well… I don’t know what I found, but… I think I saw some demon’s dancing?” Griffon replies uneasily.

“Dancing? Are you serious?” you question the bird, and he nods seriously back at you as V speaks.

“Well, then I guess we keep going. The devil sword Sparda is nearby,” he comments with a wry smirk. He reaches out to take your hand and steps forward, eager to continue your trek.

The way forward is difficult, requiring you to scramble up over massive slabs of rocks periodically. A few Empusa rudely try to stop you, but are dealt with disdainfully by V. You enter a wide courtyard to see a few Caina and you draw your sword with a feral grin. Before you have the chance to cut them down, a low rumble sounds somewhere behind you. V roughly shoves you aside and follows quickly with a short tumble to the side as an armored Behemoth comes barreling through, turning the Caina into roadkill as it passes through the courtyard.

It slams into a stone mausoleum, the structure crumbling as the creature turns to face you and V. Taking another look at the beast before you, you sheath your sword and pull out your chainsaw-bat, activating the mechanism instantly with a snarl. The Behemoth rushes at you, it’s movements so linear that you easily move out of its path and drag the spinning blades against the chains holding its armor in place. One of the sheets of metal falls to the ground as the chain breaks, revealing a section of flabby grey flesh to your vision.

A slough of lightning balls shoots straight into the exposed area and the creature growls angrily as it turns around, its grey flesh seared like a fine steak. You spot a few Caina and an Antenora scrabbling through their small portals as the Behemoth charges again, and you have no choice but to dodge directly into the attack range of one of the Caina. You bring the bat up as you streak past it, blocking its scythe attack hastily. Adrenaline surges through your body as you shift the bat into a one-handed grip and draw your sword, slashing it against the Caina as its only weapon is locked against yours. The Caina disintegrates and you turn your attention back to the Behemoth.

V has managed to get another chunk of armor off, and the second Caina is already gone. Only the Antenora and the Behemoth remain. The Antenora is closer to you and you drop the bat as you prepare to face it. It rages toward you, a berserker-esque charge if ever you’d seen one, and you dodge yet again. Its swinging arms manage to strike you as you move, throwing you off balance and forcing your body to the ground. Your forehead strikes a rock as you fall and blood runs in rivulets down one side of your face as you scramble to your feet, desperate to put some distance between yourself and the Antenora.

 Assess the damage.

Other than the stream of crimson tinting your vision, everything looks as it should. No dizziness and you’re still able to think normally.

 No concussion, then. Just a cut.

You wipe the blood away with an irritated growl and turn to ace the Antenora again. Just as you’re about to attack it, Shadow races over and shifts, several black tendrils reaching out from her body to deliver a series of blows to the demon. You move in and stab your sword through its chest and it disintegrates.

You glace back to the Behemoth to see V landing on the back of its neck, sinking his silver cane deep into its face as he croons to it.

“Resist all you want…”

He gives his cane a sharp twist, his body following the motion into a flawless pirouette as he looks it in the eye in its final moments.

“What a pitiful sight,” he snarls and the Behemoth turns to ash, blowing away in the soft breeze.

His emerald eyes find your in the next instant, lips twisting in concern at the amount of blood on your face as he strides over to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks worriedly.

“Yeah, just a small scratch. Head wounds always bleed a lot,” you assure him and he smirks, leaning down to kiss you briefly before you sit down to press some gauze to the wound, helping slow the bleeding enough that it actually clots. Once you have a respectable scab formed, you stand and take V's hand, setting off again.

V is unusually quiet as you descend into a dark cave, a lake of filthy water shining in the low light. It’s difficult to tell what the structures here were before the Qlipoth, their forms so abused and broken as to be unrecognizable. Griffon has to help in a few spots, but overall traversing it isn’t difficult.

“You’re awfully quiet, V. Thinking about mommy dearest?” Griffon pipes up suddenly.

 His mother? Griffon makes it sound like something important…

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But the past is… a bitter place for me,” V answers distractedly.

 Definitely something important.

“V, did something happen to your mother?” you ask him as gently as you can, but he still tenses. His expression is agonized as he turns to face you.

“She… she died many years ago. I saw it happen. She saved my brother but left me behind,” he tells you mournfully, a lost and hurt sheen on his piercing gaze. He bites his lower lip and you step forward to wrap him in your arms, hoping you can ease his pain even by a fraction even as your mind swirls at the implications.

“I’m so sorry, my poet… I had no idea. Is that why you hate Dante so much?” you prod carefully.

“It… it is a factor, yes. We didn’t get along well as children, too different but alike in our stubbornness. Eva, my mother… she tried to keep the peace, tried to treat us fairly. But even her kind heart couldn’t bridge the gap,” he answers slowly. You take his hand and lead him to a chunk of rubble to sit down for a moment.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, V?”

 Please tell me…

He tenses at the idea, going rigid as he wrestles internally with his own personal demons. He clenches his jaw and swallows heavily before meeting your sympathetic gaze.

“I… I’ll try,” he responds, his tattooed fingers clinging to you like a lifeline in a stormy sea. You sit in silence, waiting as he collects himself and prepares to speak about what must have been one of the worst days of his life.

[gayestnerdsinfiction]

Isaac and the Angel - Chapter 12

Read on AO3

“I made you something.”

“Since when do you give gifts?” Isaac mutters, shuffling groggily into the kitchen. He opens a cabinet and takes out a box of cereal. He looks inside. It’s completely empty. He swears under his breath. “Why did I put this back if there’s nothing in it?” he grumbles to himself.

“They’re not gifts,” the angel says. “They’re tools to keep you from getting killed.”

He sighs heavily, shoving the box into the recycling. This is not the way he envisioned his morning starting. “Can the freaky angel murder stuff wait until later? I just woke up.”

The angel scowls. “This is important.”

Isaac’s head lolls back and he groans. “Fine!” he snaps. “What did you make me?”

Leaning over the back of the sofa, the angel reaches for the items set somewhere out of view. He produces a long, angular spear and a small knife with a serrated edge. Both appear to be carved from bone.

Isaac’s jaw practically hits the floor. He is fully awake now. “No,” he blurts out, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“I can’t use that!” he exclaims, gawking at the spear. “Are you kidding me?”

“Of course you can,” the angel says simply. “It’s lightweight and long range, perfect for someone like you with no combat experience and limited upper body strength.”

“I-I have upper body strength,” Isaac splutters, his face flushing.

“I said limited.”

“Oh my God, that’s not the point!” He feels like he’s going to scream. What was the angel thinking? Is he expecting Isaac to actually be able to stab another living creature? He doesn’t even like killing spiders! “When you said you had ‘tools’ that would keep me from getting killed,” he begins, lowering his voice, “I thought you meant like… a fancy magic thing that would protect me. I didn’t think you were just going to give me weapons.”

“An angel could easily counteract any magic that I could come up with. They can’t stop themselves from feeling pain.” He shrugs. “Physical weapons are more practical. Besides, I can teach you how to use them.”

“But I don’t think I’m… comfortable using real weapons.”

The angel sets his jaw. “Look,” he says sternly, “you’ve already been attacked once. It won’t be the last time.” He sets the knife and spear down on Isaac’s kitchen table. “The others know you’re under my protection, so the first thing they’ll try to do in a fight is separate us. They are counting on you to be weak and helpless without me. I’m just trying to give you a fighting chance.”

Isaac says nothing. Deep down, he knows the angel is right. But the thought of potentially having to fight for his life is too much for him to handle at this stage in his life.

“I can’t force you to fight,” the angel says softly. “But I also can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep you alive. Think it over.”

____

“So let me get this straight,” Vivian says, turning the knife over in her hands. “Literal angels are coming down from Heaven with the sole purpose of killing you, so your guardian angel offers to teach you how to fight them with some cool ass weapons, and you said no?”

Isaac shakes his head. “I knew you wouldn’t get it.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t get why you would choose to be lame and vulnerable when you could just as easily choose to be a cool angel killer.” She holds the knife up to the lamp on Isaac’s bedside table. “Is this made out of bone? That’s so sick!”

Isaac snatches the knife away from her and tosses it aside. It skids into the wall on the other side of the room. “I’m not going to kill anyone. That would be insane.”

“Well, welcome to your new insane life!” Vivian gets up from the bed to retrieve the knife. “Face it, dude, shit is super weird right now so you’re going to have to step up and be weird too. You’re not gonna survive this crazy circumstance if you don’t use a crazy enough method to match.”

“I’m not going to survive this at all!” Isaac blurts out.

Vivian’s face falls. “Not with that attitude you won’t,” she says. It’s meant to be funny. But they both know this isn’t funny anymore.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Look, V,” he begins, “they’re angels. I can barely survive looking at one, much less fighting one. Even if I was good at fighting to begin with.”

“So your plan is to just let them kill you?”

When she puts it like that, it does sound kind of pathetic. “When you have people trying to hunt you down and kill you, then you get to have an opinion on how I’m handling this.”

Vivian shrugs, dropping the knife onto the bed beside Isaac. “I guess I’ll start writing my eulogy for your funeral.”

“Oh, you are not allowed to speak at my funeral.”

She rolls her eyes. “If you don’t want me to give a eulogy, don’t die.”

Isaac feels a pang of anxiety in his chest. “Easier said than done.”

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 6

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I started writing this chapter while writing chapter five and I was expecting to have fun with it, and I did, and it has a new OC in it. One that I’ve been talking about through this entire fic basically. One I’m terribly in love with and would start a fire for. So... I’m sorry if it seems like you have to keep up with all those OCs, but it really isn’t. It’s mostly just India, and this gal in this here chapter.

I apologize in advance. (Also Remy’s dad’s phone number starts with 212, which if anyone didn’t know is the Manhattan area code. Just pointing that out.)

As usual, thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries​ for the original thirty second long recording of them rambling about this idea, to @whatwashernameagain​ for Keep Him Safe and just for being pure and sweet as she is, and for @anony-phangirl​ , @asleepybisexual​ and @winglessnymph​ for dealing with my insanity and random bouts of ideas.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222​ , @ab-artist​ , @secretlyanxiouspersona​ , @your-username-is-unavailable​ , @virgilcrofters​ , @why-things-go-boom​ , @ilovemygaydad​ , @violetblossem​

(If you want to be tagged or removed, please let me know! Preferably via notes/reblogs, I have bad memory, but… you do you.)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter also discusses forms of child abuse and drug use.

—————

Emile was sent to the hospital the moment they explained the situation to the doctor on campus and was released from the ER a couple of days later. It was the very day Remy made the worst decision of his life. He missed some classes, Remy was glad to fill him up on those, and his mother had to fly in from Minnesota to look after him for the time he was there.

(Nathalie Picani was an incredibly nice woman, Remy decided within five seconds of meeting her. And he was yet to be proven wrong.)

But on the day Emile was released, Remy finally did it. He did the one thing he said he'd never do.

On that one fateful night in early November, Remy Harris agreed to babysit for Linda and Stephen Hollander. The victim? Remy. And also Leah.

"Would you please tell me who Leah is?" India asked him after a group meeting.

"Linda's daughter." Remy couldn't stop shaking. "She's six. Almost seven. And I don't want to babysit her."

"You're making a much bigger deal out of this than it really is and it's driving you crazy. It's a six year old. What's the worst that could possibly happen?"

But then, a couple hours later, Linda dropped the demon child off at Weld Hall - Remy wasn't a fan of her knowing where he stayed, thank you very much - and left. Well, then.

"You don't look like a Rebecca," the demon child muttered when she first saw Remy. And he was thankful. Both for the child having the sense to not imagine him as a Rebecca, and for the fact that it was nearing winter and he could start wearing baggier clothes, meaning he didn't have to bind.

(His back and boobs were going to thank him for it for the next six months, give or take.)

"Because it's not my name. My name is Remy, and Linda is just a bitch."

"A bitch is like my auntie when she doesn't listen to Mom, right…?"

What?!

"Auntie Steph wants to take me to see Lion King in New York on Christmas and Mom thinks that she shouldn't because I don't deserve to so she called her a bitch. Is that what you mean?" Less than a second later, "I dreamed last night that I was in a bouncy castle, and there was a clown, and I really don't like clowns, I think they're scary…"

She avoided eye contact. Much like two other figures in Remy's life. He didn't want to make wrong assumptions, but the thought was there.

"I saw a movie about real-real lions and you know that Simba is Nala's brother? Boy lions are really lazy, they don't hunt for themselves, the girl lions do it for them. Did you know that hyenas don't like boys? Like, at all? They have a really weird—"

"Look, kid, I'm sure all that is very interesting, but why do you know all this shit about hyenas?"

"My name is Leah Mae Hollander and I'm not a kid, I'm seven!"

"You'll be seven in two weeks."

"Girl hyenas have pen—"

"Yeah, I'm not gonna let you finish that! Let's do something other than talking."

He failed to notice her expression change when he said that.

——

Remy didn't have the heart to tell Leah that he already knew who George Michael is and that Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go was the song his dad used to wake him up all the time, which is why he doesn't like it, when a tiny gray bunny followed Katherine into the suite.

She swore she didn't steal him. And for once, he actually believed her.

"But it's a song about oh oh oh Remy that's a bunny I wanna cuddle the bunny can I please please cuddle the bunny?" He couldn't even answer before she dashed from the couch and grabbed the bunny a little too harshly. "Fluffy bunbun! You're so cute, little bunny!"

"Leah, someone needs this bunny right now. Would you mind putting him down so we could take him back?"

The look she gave him could kill a man.

"I found him. He's mine now."

"No, his name is Mycroft and he belongs to a very good friend of mine who is sick and needs him back." She tried using puppy eyes. Well… "You can come with me. But I'm taking the bunny back."

"Okay!"

Leah bounced all the way down the hall, and insisted on knocking on the door herself. It took several tries before Emile opened the door, still looking incredibly pale.

"I'm actually surprised you're doing this well," the nurse said while changing Emile's IV. "The lab suspected GHB, and—"

"Let's celebrate the small miracles instead of constantly pointing out facts that my son would rather forget."

"I can't hang out right now," Emile sighed. He sounded incredibly tired, almost… as if he's been crying. "I need to study for—"

"You, my good bitch, need to study for nothing. Get back in bed and I'll make you more tea."

"I'm not actually sick…"

"No, but it will help calm you down. And your mom would hate me if I didn't."

"Hello, I'm Leah!" Oh yeah. The demon child was here too. Emile looked down at her, forcing a smile. "I'm seven."

"You're not seven."

"Not yet but almost."

"Remy, please, she's clearly seven!" Leah's smile grew at that. "I'm Emile, I'm sixteen. Thank you so much for returning my bunny, Leah!"

"He's my bunny now."

For a second, Remy thought Emile was trying to imitate him. He never saw his adorable blond friend be evil... "How about he'll be ours, together?"

"...fine."

Leah bolted into the suite after the bunny, who was placed on the ground and started hopping towards his food. She was an interesting kid. A demon child, but still interesting.

Remy didn't know if he liked her or not.

"Thanks for coming to check on me, but I'm okay. You don't have to do anything. I'll be fine." Emile kissed Remy's cheek as he entered after Leah… and then didn't immediately leave. There was no way he was going to. "Remy, please!"

"No! You were—"

"I know what I was. I kept being reminded of what I was when I was in the hospital. Please stop reminding me."

"I was in the hospital two months ago," Leah started rambling again and broke whatever tension was between the boys. "Mom took Rachel to the park and I wanted to go too, because the park has the slides and the swings and there's a red slide that has rollers on it and it's funner because of the rollers and I really like it but every time I go there someone is already on it and nobody lets me slide on it so I really wanted to, so I took my rollerblades and I was on my way and then I tripped and it was very close to my home and it all hurt so our neighbor Matilda called Dad and when we went to the hospital he told me that I'm stupid and shouldn't do that ever again and when I tried to tell him that it was because I wanted to slide he called me stupid again and said the fuck word."

"And what happened then?" Emile asked softly, finally going to sit down and allowing Remy to make him tea. Well, sorta.

"I broke my arm. And it was very cool! I had a cast and everything, and nobody signed it, not even Mom or Dad, so I signed it for myself. And I did whatever I wanted!"

"What did you sign then?"

"It was a story about a group of princesses who went to fight a knight who was trying to kill their dragon friend."

Something didn't seem right to Remy. Other than absolutely not understanding a single word she said (that was a bit of an exaggeration, yes), something about the story didn't… make sense. And earlier when he cut her off, she looked incredibly offended.

Yeah… nothing matched up.

"Wait… Leah, let's work it through, okay?" She hummed in agreement. Remy was looking for mugs in the suite kitchenette. "You broke your arm rollerblading?"

"Yeah, I said that—"

"And Stephen called you stupid for breaking your arm rollerblading?"

"Yeah! I told you that!"

"And what did Linda say?"

"She said that I'm a stupid child for thinking I can rollerblade. But I can! I learned how to last year, and I'm practicing, and the park isn't that far, so I can!"

"Are you trying to analyze your sister?" Emile looked overly worried. "The tea bags are in that wooden box on the toaster oven."

"I'm not trying to analyze anything, but… something is weird." There were about ten different types of tea in there. Oh dear. Chamomile…? Emile likes chamomile, right?

"I saw Monsters, Inc. last week," Leah said out of the blue. "I saw it on my birthday and I stayed until the very-very end, and Mike Wazowski actually did a musical called put that thing back where it came from or so help me! And there's a song that's like, there's a child there's a child there's a human child, running ‘round the restaurant, this is really wild, what in heaven's name will become of us, we who are living in Monstropolis?"

"You saw that last week?" Emile sounded happy. "Remy, please no chamomile. It makes my stomach feel worse. Peppermint, please?"

"Alright."

"You saw Monsters, Inc.?"

"Yeah! I like Mike. He's fun."

Linda said that Leah was disruptive, annoying, a monster of a child. So far she… certainly talked a lot, but she wasn't disruptive, or annoying (well, maybe a little), and she didn't seem stupid at all. On their way over here she kept pointing at the suite numbers (not that many, but apparently she loved it) and asking Remy to read them to her, after which she'd declare whether or not they were multiples of three. And she couldn't stop talking about animals, some of which Remy didn't even know existed - she kept talking about betta fish for some reason, whatever those fish were, and how people killed their fish by putting more than one in the fish tank or putting cold water instead of warm (he was starting to think she just really liked betta fish). And those things meant she was… the opposite of stupid. No?

He was being redundant in his own head, it wasn't nice.

"Leah, I don't think you're stupid." Leah made a squeaky noise in response. "Linda and Stephen make no sense."

"But I can't do anything right…"

"Says who?"

"Remy Harris, you came here to make yourself useful, now where's my tea?" Emile laughed.

Once the tea was made, they sat down and watched Monsters, Inc. as per Leah's request.

Things were going to be okay today.

——

"How was babysitting the little rascal?"

"Dad… don't call her that."

"Changed your mind?"

"I don't know… I don't remember Linda berating me as much as she does Leah, and it sucks. I almost want to call social services and I only met that girl today!"

"Remy, kiddo, calm down. You'll get to see her again for thanksgiving and get a better picture of what's going on—"

"But I don't want to see them for thanksgiving and I'm worried for Leah! She's learning to play the piano, she can calculate stuff really quickly for a six year old, she remembers things with scary accuracy, it's almost inhuman… and she was called names by Linda and her husband for breaking her arm rollerblading. That's not—"

"How's Emile? Last time I called you said he was in the hospital."

"Yeah… he had a blood test. They found traces of GHB. He doesn't want to talk about it though."

"I know you probably don't want to hear this—"

"Don't tell me if I don't want to know about this…"

"When you were three, your mom used to go out a lot. She loved clubbing."

"She went out a lot my whole childhood, Dad. It's not news. She never really grew up since the eighties."

"She was seventeen when she had you, you can be a little bit—"

"Which means she's thirty-five, in a good enough position to raise children, and she chooses to call her daughter names for not fulfilling her expectations. Huh, kind of like how she treats me, isn't it?"

"...you'll be the death of me, child."

"I know. I'm already working on it. You can't see me but I'm winking at you."

"Remy, please don't make this harder than it is. Do you think I want her to want contact with you?"

"No, I don't. I don't want her to either. But it's not like I have any choice. You're making me do this!"

"You're being a brat."

"Thank you so much, I totally needed to hear that."

Remy hung up. Something was… not quite right. He just had to—

Incoming Call: 212-729-5555

"I don't want to talk to you right now."

"You said you didn't want to babysit Linda's kids, and now you're protecting her child like your life depends on it. Do you want to listen to what I have to say or not?"

"...sure. Whatever."

"When you were six, I had to leave you with your grandparents one night because your mom didn't come home from one of her parties. She almost died that night."

"And that has to do with what exactly?"

"That has to do with you being super worried about Emile. He's alive, isn't he? And he's doing alright. All you can do now is be there to support him."

"Well… yeah, you're right. I hate it when you're right."

"Now, about Leah. I know you don't trust your mom, I know you can't stand her, but it's no reason to call social services."

"Okay, I call her Linda to distance myself from her. She's not my mom. And the way Leah says she treats her is horrendous, and I would say it's abusive but I don't know the severity of it yet. So will you please just…"

"I think you need to take a day off, think about it, and we'll talk tomorrow."

"...fine. Good night, Dad. I'm going to go to sleep."

"Good. Good night, son. Sleep tight."