#this arc has me gripped so tightly already

[silencingspellsongs]

Early Access 9/29

Vincent Solaire and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night.

ok but oh my god this summit is going to be JUICYYYYYY. is this seriously just like... william testing vincent to see if he can take over as leader of the clan or are there more nefarious things afoot? 👀 i'm so excited to see what erik has planned for this arc!! the inevitable drama from so many different avenues... mmm i am eating it all up eagerly yum yum yummy

and that perfectly placed phone call right at the end MWAH chefs kiss. i could feel it coming and yet it still sent me into hysterics like "could things really get any worse?" yeah, porter's home 😳🤪

[ariasakka]

Enji in bed 18+ MDNI

How would Enji be in bed? Post+pre atonement arc. Here’s what I think.

I think how he would be sexually before and after his “atonement arc” would contrast each other quite a bit.

Reader notes:

2k words. Not an experienced writer just have lots of creative thoughts I must get out of my overfilled brain.

Warning. My pre atonement Enji headcannon is rough and aggressive obviously so please do not read this if it will upset you. Post atonement I actually think he’d be quite sweet. Feel free to just skip to the post atonement arc Enji part if you prefer.

You can find all my Enji stories under the hashtag EnjiAria

During marrige-pre atonement:

Kinks. He most definitely probably has breeding kink and is rough. Definitely also has a “daddy”or “yes sir” name calling kink. He probably likes degrading his partner a bit in bed as well. Has a dacryphilia kink. Power imbalance kink. During his younger years/before his marriage becomes estranged he likes degrading.

Enji never liked to show his anger outside of his own home. He would often come home with pent up anger from his hero work and needed someone to take it out on. He usually liked relieving his stress sexually with Rei. Enji likes to start out being rough, then make you cum, then end with roughness again. He’ll start out fucking her roughly, not letting her have time to adjust to his length or girth, hearing her scream as he thrusted too fast and too deep for her. Pressing down on her back (if she was on her stomach) or hips (if she was on her back) to hold her in place. Watching tears form as she desperately tried to take him. He basked in her pain. He was also very experienced and always knew how to make a woman finish. Though it is no lie he does like quite a bit of pain and aggression he will never finish a session without making his partner cum. If they don’t cum he’ll get angry and threaten punishment such as relentless face fucking or anal. After he can tell she’s submitted to him by letting him roughy have his way with their hole he’ll reward his partner with an orgasm. He’s good with his fingers. He’ll still pound into his partner roughly but use his fingers to trace circles over your clit to make you cum. He doesn’t go gently, he works at a rough pace with pressure. He loves overstimulating his woman. He wants you to cum fast. As you cum he likes to grab your throat and make you tell him who your pussy belongs to, who your body belongs to, who owns you. Once you’ve finished he picks back up his pace. Balls deep slapping against you relentlessly. He’ll continue this pace, slap your ass and pull your hair until he finishes. As he fills you up he’ll tell you how perfect you are to breed. Once he finishes he’ll leave you there on the bed and go about his day with less stress now.

His dirty talk pre atonement era:

“You look so good carrying my children, it shows me who you belong to. You belong to me.”

“Take it, I’m going to keep giving you babies over and over again until your body breaks.”

“Crying already? You say you can’t take it but you always end up cumming so hard from this. You’re so filthy. You love it when I show you who you belong to don’t you.”

“That’s it, take it. Rip that cunt open on my cock. Let me breed you.”

“You’re such a worthless whore the least you can do is give me this.”

“I always love breaking you in.”

“Shh stop screaming it’ll only make daddy go harder.”

“If you don’t cum on me right now I’ll fuck your other hole and I’m not talking about your throat sweetheart.”

“You should thank me for getting you pregnant”

Outside of the sex he still liked intimidating his wife. Making sure she knew where she stood. Gripping her arm tightly when she displeased him. Not allowing her to leave the house or wear certain clothing. Watching her obey him out of fear turned him on. It always made him hard and she knew it. She could see it. (Later in life he definitely regrets enjoying that.)

Though he was not a good person in his younger years I don’t see him cheating at all oddly. I think he would be loyal and use his wife for sex only. He seems old fashioned I don’t think he would use toys for himself or for his partner. At most he might like tying her hands or her mouth with his work tie. He would also probably forbid his wife from touching herself sexually, wanting himself to be the only one to give her pleasure or pain. He wanted this for a few reasons, he was possessive and insecure she wasn’t allowed to think of anything but him. He also wanted her to always be able to get wet easily whenever he needed to relieve stress, get off, or breed her, he feared if she pleasured herself on her own she wouldn’t be able to take him as easily. If he ever found out she touched herself he punished her by bending her over his knee and spanking until she was in tears. Then making her get on her knees to apologize profusely before ordering her to suck him dry.

Hear me out…I’m so sorry but I feel like he’s obsessed with receiving rimming. Especially when he’s too exhausted to do too much to you. He would love just laying back gripping his fingers in your hair guiding your tongue over his ass while his legs are spread open. Or closing his thighs berrying your face in him causing you to go deeper into his ass.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Post atonement era Enji:

First off he most definitely immediately got divorced. He felt immense regret for how he treated his wife and wants her free from him. He still holds love for her. He was never in love with her but he wants her to be happy he can’t move on and grow if they are still together either he fears it would make him revert back to his old ways. He built a new home for Rei and his kids to live in. He has as little contact with them as possible for their own sakes. He does his best to continue his growth in every way he can..including sexual.

Outside of marriage after the divorce Enji is gentle, sweet, no breeding kink but still very dominate.

Kinks. Praising, overstimulation.

Dacryphilia kink. (From pleasure not pain)

Caretaking/caregiving. Daddy kink.(not age play just likes taking care of you. By daddy kink I mean the name calling again not age play.)

His type. To me he doesn’t have a spesific type but prefers women smaller than him, tan skin, small or average chest, long hair. Being smaller than him Isn’t hard bc he’s big so almost everyone is smaller than him. If not that exact description he at the very least just prefers women with long soft hair. I could see him taking a liking to both submissive and dominate women but would prefer someone who’s a submissive bottom. Though he doesn’t like being as aggressive in the bedroom anymore he prefers to be the one doing all the work, the one pleasing his woman.

He does not want you to do anything to him. Sucking his dick, rimming, trying to make him come if you’re already finished. He wants everything to be about you. If you want to suck his dick or more you’ll have to beg him. He’ll allow it but only if he can see that you’re getting just as much or more enjoyment out of it than him.

He has deep regrets for how rough he was with Rei’s body. As a way to atone for that in his mind he wants to treat his current partner gently. He’s insecure he doesn’t know his own strength in bed, he’s not used to being gentle. Has to have you watching him at all times especially when he’s eating you out he needs to see your face to make sure he’s going a good enough of a job. He needs your approval constantly weather that be through words, moans of pleasure, or your eyes, anything to let him know he’s giving you nothing but pleasure. He would grow to be quite the pleasure dom in his old age. He needs you to cum constantly. He will always make you cum first. He LOVES overstimulating you, making you cum over and over again until you tell him it’s too much. He feels as though he doesn’t deserve to cum after everything he’s done. He would much rather make you cum, it’s enough to satisfy him mentally. Physically that’s a different story. But I do see him liking not finishing. It makes him feel like he’s edging himself and being good for not cuming because it should all be about you anyways.

I see him being with someone quite inexperienced who often can’t handle him going very long or deep so he’ll often not finish. He doesn’t want to finish by himself as he feels like it’s disrespectful to you so he’ll constantly edge himself for days from watching you feel pleasure until he’s finally at his breaking point and can finish as fast as you. He’ll still always make you cum first though.

After his divorce he immediately got a vasectomy he’s too scared of ever having kids again. He still loves filling you with his cum. He’s never used condoms and doesn’t like them. If you want kids he’ll decline but he will roleplay breeding you if you want.

Though he wants to be more gentle now he’s still slightly kinky. He still loves name calling “yes sir” “daddy”. He enjoys making you cry out of pleasure from cumming too much or out of pleasure from him being the first one to make you squirt. He loves light choking, gentle slaps, but nothing that will actually ever hurt you. He’s always constantly looking at your face to make sure you smirk or bite your lip after each slap to assure him that he didn’t go too rough. Dispite his fear that he’ll be too rough he’s actually is a lot more gentle with his partner than he realizes. His touches are so soft and gentle they wouldn’t so much as break an egg yolk. But because his partner is inexperienced they prefer this gentle edge to him. Being with someone inexperienced in my opinion would be a good fit. They wouldn’t push his limits by asking him to go rougher or trying kinkier things. He always fears loosing control and reverting back to his old self. Being with someone who needs him to always be slow and soft will keep him in place and help further his progress.

If his partner was a top he would allow you to have your way with him sometimes but ultimately at the end he would be right back on top of you fucking you on your back. I see him trying to be a bottom to please you but at the end of the day failing because being a top-dom is just in his nature.

Dirty talk post atonement:

“That’s it come on my fingers sweetheart I need to taste you after.”

“You taste so sweet. I can’t get enough. Think I can make you cum a 3rd time baby?”

“Shh let me do everything don’t you think about doing anything for me. Watching you cum is all I need I promise.”

“You feel so good wrapped around my cock sweetheart you’re spoiling daddy with this cunt.”

“Let me fill you up you deserve it after cumming so good for me sweetie.”

“Shh don’t worry daddy won’t go all the way in, I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll go easy. Gentle. I promise.”

“Look at me, keep your eyes on me or I’ll stop licking your pussy.”

“Tsk tsk sweetheart look at me if you want me to keep thrusting. I need to see it in your eyes that I’m doing good.”

“Is it too much? Tell me when you’ve had enough and I’ll stop.”

“Is this okay? Yeah sweetheart…right there? Like that?”

He would ask you not to touch yourself without him. He wouldn’t forbid it. He just wants you to come to him to feel pleasure. He would feel like he’s not doing enough if you feel like you have to use other methods to finish instead of waiting to use his body.

He’s old fashioned so he wouldn’t prefer using toys. Definitely not on himself. He wants you to be able to get you off with his body. Cock, fingers, tongue, nose tracing up and down your clit, anything. He would feel like he’s inadequate if he has to resort to toys to get you off. On the other hand if you wanted him to use toys on you or you using toys on him he wouldn’t decline. He’s wrapped around your finger he would basically do anything you asked no matter what it was.

Outside the bedroom. Preferred to be the provider. Enji loves to spoil you. He doesn’t want you to worry about anything, he has more money than he’s able to spend he would want to spend on you asking you to quit work and just do whatever you want. He wants to see you happy as much as he can. To be honest he does always tend to prefer a domestic relationship him being the provider and you being the homemaker but if he meets someone career oriented he will support them working. Just seeing you happy will turn him on mentally.

I don’t see him getting married again. If he got into another relationship he wouldn’t be expecting it or feel deserving of it. I think his next partner would be serious and life long (unless they ended it I couldn’t see him being the one to break it off) but at the end of the day he would be too worried getting married would make you feel trapped. Ending up being with him for the sake of ease instead of want. He wants you to constantly choose him everyday and not be forced to stay. It’ll reassure him that he’s still making progress.

[toska-writes]

“Where the stars can shine”

Summary: the fighting never stops, and it never will so it’s in everyone’s best interest to find the calm moments when you can.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x padawan!reader (OF COURSE THIS IS PLATONIC)

Warning: none just so much fluff!

Word count: 1261 (not proof read but what did you expect)

Notes: IM WATCHING THE NEW BAD BATCH SEASON AFTER THIS! So this is my way of manifesting everyone being alright to end the show 🥲

The war never ended, nor would it for anyone who has endured it and its intensity.

One fight always rolled into another and nothing could be done to stop it. The only way to get through it was to find the little cracks in all the bad. The place where the sun could shine and the flowers could grow.

Or in this case, the stars could twinkle.

"This is already too high for me." Wrecker stated loudly hauling himself up the side of the Marauder.

Crosshair, who was currently under Wreck scoffed to himself before clambering up the side like it was nothing. "You never seem to have that problem when we're in the air." He quipped.

"Well I'm inside then." He whined finally being assisted by Hunter who had the small hands of Omega making sure he didn't fall.

You could only laugh at the scene, leaning back on Echo you could feel him laugh too.

"Who do you think's falling off first?" You ask with a smile that was masked by the moonlight.

"The real question is," Echo leaned forward, surprised a little bit that the top of the marauders could fit 5 fully grown clones plus omega and the Jedi padawan. "Who's going to be pushed off first."

You looked back towards him and in an instant you spoke the same word together. "Tech."

Speaking of the devil, Tech's voice rang out as you looked over to where he had an arm pointing something out beyond the horizon.

"-and if you look there you'll be able to see Endor"

Omega's eyes lit up brighter than they have been in the past few days, nothing seemed to be going right for that bad batch no matter how much they tried.

"Have you guys been there?" Omegas eyes scanned the rest of her family that sat gazing with her. The sky on this backwater planet was surprisingly clear, clearer than you thought it would be.

"Eh once or twice." Hunter shrugged it off with a smile as all that Omega could do was gawk up at her big brother.

"Thats an understatement." Crosshair added quietly from beside you. With a nudge to your shoulder he added. "That meat-head over there blew up more than half the forest and got us kicked out. For life."

"Hey!" Wrecker let go of his strong grip of the Marauder with one hand to wave it at the sniper.

Omega giggled giving you a glance as you could help but laugh at the exchange. "Have you?"

You could only smile at the found memories the question brought you. Landing with your Master on a planet you've never even heard of at that time. The trees the towered over you and the abundant shades of green that you didn't even know existed. The faint sound of your master laughing as you stared up from the base of the tall trees fathomed by the hight.

"Yeah I went once I think during the Clone Wars. It was beautiful there." You spoke, the smiles spread from Omegas face to Hunters as he watched you retell the fond memories.

"Well I also did kinda crash into a tree there but other than that the rest was beautiful." Echo hide his laugh behind you as you told the more embarrassing part of the trip.

"I think I did hear about that one." The ex arc trooper spoke out. You shoved him back slightly as your gaze returned to the stars above.

"Now if you all turn your gazes eastward you can spot the Orion constellation which should also mean the Canis Major is pretty close." Tech pointed upward now, his own eyes locked tightly on the stars.

"That one has the brightest star in the whole galaxy right?" Omega filled in, whether Tech wanted to continue himself or not he could only beam down at the girl, who clearly heard this from him before.'

You smiled also recounting when Tech probably told the group for the first time.

The bounty hunters came from nowhere that day, Omega gripped on the back of Echo's armor plate  with tears streaking down her face clearly scared.

Tech stood above you the, a data pad scanned over you as Hunter tried to apply some pressure to a wound you sustained on your side. Wrecker and Cross stood around the group, the sniper's gaze fixed on the darken horizon beyond.

Panicked breath sounded out and flown into the barren night, as much as you didn't want to scare Omega more you really could help it. You were scared yourself.

"Do you see that over there." Tech took your free arm in his hand and pointed up to the looming sky with it. "That really bright star?"

You were pulled back from your thoughts with the slightest nudge from Crosshair who spared you a glance, nobody else seemed to notice his movements

"I want to go to all of those planets one day." The words were light from Omega, a smile still evident in her voice.

"You'll definitely need to learn to fly then." You added shooting a look at Tech who finally spared a glance at someone else and was immersed in taking pictures of the different planets and constellations.

"If you can find another ship." Tech said mater-o-factly with a finger in the air.

"Aweeee Tech." Omega did the only thing she could think of, huge tooka eyes found Tech and with the pout of her bottom lip you could almost see the moment Tech cracked.

"More contemplation will be needed for that"

Though Omega wasn't disappointed for long as Crosshair whispered to her. "That's practically a yes."

Hunter laughed now shoving Crosshair back into a lying down position. He noted that his brother looked quite different without his armor, but it was a sight he could get used to.

Opening his mouth Tech was about to defend himself before a snore racked through the air. 

"Put someone else to sleep too Techy." Crosshair jabbed a finger at wrecker who still seemed to gripped the ship tightly.

You couldn't blame him though, and is wasn't just because of Tech talking, but you did insist the stars and planets were best to see in the late night. A yawn stifled through you, Echo wasn't the warmest person but the arms that wrapped around you from the clone seemed to do it.

"It's not even that late." Omega protested but her heavy eyelids seemed to contradict her own words.

"No no, we all can't fall asleep up here or it's going to be a pain getting down." Omega curled up into Hunters chest as he spoke. He slowly started to get up.

"One of us should get Wreck." Your own eyelids battled against you as you fought to sit up.

"On it." Crosshair was the last person who you thought would offer but as his leg extended you watched Wrecker rolled over the side.

His startled yell was masked by the thud of him hitting the soft grass below. 

"See it wasn't even that far." The skipper shrugged pushing himself over the edge and landing gracefully with even using the side to get down.

You chuckled as you rolled your eyes at the brothers were up to their old antics.

The chill air was a good contrast to the heated days that came before, so much fighting it seemed that it would never end.

Moments like these would always be cherished, and surprisingly Tech wasn't the one to get pushed off the Marauder.

_____________________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[hermesserpent-stuff]

tw: temp. character death.

wrote a little bit ahead for caged spade. logan shows up and remy has a bad time

Remy winces as Creed shoves him into a cabinet and snaps his teeth. He cannot hear him as Creed says something.  The blaring alarms keep Remy's ears ringing, blocking out all other sounds.  Worry smashes with rage like angry waves on the ocean in a storm, all leaking from creeds side of the mental link. He tries to get out and is shoved harshly back with a flash of  teeth. He bangs his head harshly, making the world spin. He silently nods as the world blurs under red flashing lights that mess with his vision so horridly. Remy curls into a ball. Creed starts to close the door and is tackled to the side when it is just a crack.

Remy tries to move forwards to help fight against the short black-haired man who has tackled Creed.

Then …

The link goes dead.

Not like a light turning off, or like an eye closing.

No.

Like a car screeching to a stop, with plums of smoke flying out behind. 

Like a volcano that has sputtered out. 

Creed is gone.

Creed is gone!

Dead!!

All those emotions that had been right there, lapping at Remy through the link and helping keep him sane are gone. Horridly gone. 

He screams.

He blows up the cabinet and kneels in the rubble gasping loudly. Fushia arcs around him and he grabs onto something, anything, to charge. He grabs a chair and flings it at his feral’s killer whose eyes are wide. His shields are gone. Hatred, fear, and sorrow smashing through him and out, a flood no longer held back by a dam. He sees the short black-haired man shake with the power of Remy’s emotions

Good. Let this man who decided to kill Creed feel the impact of his decision. The man struggles to his feet and slowly steps forwards shaking violently. The man steps over Creed’s body, which is just lying there. Like his cats had laid there after trusting him so and then he had killed them. 

Oh God.

“Kid, I need you to breathe-”

Remy snarls as tears mix into his blurry vision, scooping up shrapnel. He stands up and fights, cutting off the man's words with huge explosions. Each bit of shrapnel is so much more charged than he normally would let it be, his fingers stinging with burns. He shrieks and roars, running out of shrapnel. He begins flinging everything he hand get his hands on. 

Chairs, pens, paper. 

Everything

The stranger cuts through every thing and is coming closer!! Panic swells and Remy shoves out his emotions seeking out any remaining shields and breaking them violently. The man grips his head and Gambit throws him back with a huge explosion. His hands burn. Gambit can feel his eyes burning with light. He howls and surges forward, punching, kicking, lighting up the short stranger’s clothing. 

He sobs between screams. The man tries to grab him, but Gambit is quicker and angrier. 

Then he is grabbed from behind, turned, and pinned down. Teeth nip his neck and he stills at the familiar weight and feeling of teeth. He blinks.

Creed?

Gambir gasps and sobs.

“Mo-mon- minou?”

“Yeah, it's me, kitten.”

Remy sobs and throws his arms around Creed, hugging him tightly and yanking his empath powers in just focus on Creed. Remy runs his fingers over Creed grabbing and holding him. He lets his empathy wrap around Creed, the link snapping back into place easily and completely letting Remy mentally feel that Creed is there. 

He whimpers and grips tight.

“You died! You died… oh God you died inside my head and heart and-”

“I know. I know. I'm sorry. It doesn't stick on me, Kitten. It is already all healed up.”

Creed reassures, drawing him to his chest. Remy senses curiosity and anger coming closer and tenses violently; it must be the stranger. 

He is going to kill Creed again!!

“Back the f*ck up you connard! You not gonna kill him again.”

He snarls as he turns his head and flashes his teeth. Creed growls and steps back, curling around Remy tightly. 

“Runt. Back off. You're not gettin’ another lucky shot.”

Creed growls.

“Drop the kit Creed.”

“No.”

“Back off tataille! Imma blow out your eyes if’n you don't back off!”

Remy reaches into Creed’s coat, pulling out the deck of cards hidden there and lighting them up. Desperation and terror wrack his voice. The man stills and then Remy flings the card anyways. It hits square between his eyes. 

“Run. Please run.”

Remy begs Creed and the feral is suddenly bolting. The whole facility is now in chaos with mutants and guards everywhere. There is screaming, alarms, powers, and flashing lights around every turn.

[totothewolff]

Season of Love (10/?) [New chapter]

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

The Sebaffäre Arc Chapter 10: Finding Our Grip.

Japan

The sun slips through the cherry blossom trees, their soft pink petals floating gently in the spring air over the streets of Shibuya as you, Sebastian, Mick, and Millie walk, soaking in the vibrant energy surrounding you.

Laughter spreads as you explore the bustling district known for its trendy stores, eclectic street style, and, of course, the undeniable Kawaii culture for which Millie lives.

“I saw on Instagram a new pop-up cafe with capybara-themed everything! We have to go!” Millie exclaims, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Sebastian chuckles while pulling her a little closer, wrapping a relaxed arm around her neck, their height difference being noticeable. “If it has cute animals and desserts, just take me there,” he jokes.

Mick, is already scouting for the ultimate kawaii stuff for Millie. “Look! They have those giant plush toys over there!” He points toward a shop filled with oversized snack plushies.

Your heart fills with joy as this hangout feels more like a family trip.

-

“Millie, this one is so you!” you point out, holding up a pink dress adorned with frills and one little cat paw. Millie squeals in delight as she slips it on, twirling in front of the mirror, you are now inside an all-pink extremely chic fashion store.

After some bags of apparel are added to your purchases, you head toward the Capybara café.

As soon as you step inside, you are greeted by the most adorably fluffy residents lounging around.

"I'M GOING TO EXPLODE" Millie squeals out.

-

After some iced Taros, fruit cakes, and playful interaction with the capybaras, you notice something shiny in the corner, a photo booth. “Oh, we have to try it!” you ask the group, eyes sparkling with glee.

Inside, you each squeeze tightly together, giggles erupting as you try to fit in. “Okay, everyone! Let’s do a silly one!” Mick suggests, posing with a goofy expression. You all follow suit, Sebastian squishes his cheeks together, Millie tosses her head back, and you cross your eyes, with the camera flashing in a series of snaps. When Millie suggests doing one series more but "with free poses" Seb doesn't let go of the opportunity to place one kiss on your cheek.

As the pictures print out, you can't help but think about how wonderful it would be to have these moments with a family of your own.

“Check this out!” Sebastian says, pulling the first picture from the stack. The photo reflects the perfect blend of laughter, silliness, and an undeniable bond, the four of you together.

“Let’s each take one copy and place them on our dressing room's mirror” Mick suggests and everyone agrees.

-

You three had the most fun time that day, so much it passed by at an alarming speed, and soon Seb offered to take you back, leaving you at the door of your hotel room, with just one shy and sweet goodbye kiss on the palm of your hand.

And that's all, he tries for.

He doesn't want to rush things, he feels luck is on its side this weekend.

He is just waiting for that special momment.

-

It's race day and Matthew and you navigate to your team's place on the grid - by the front - among the big bustling, and packed Suzuka track, it's kinda hard to walk around, this time they overdid the number of people allowed in there.

You two take your time to reach the place where the cars sit still but are soon ready to roar to life as the orchestra prepares for the national anthem, adding an air of ceremonial anticipation.

Just as Matthew turns a corner, you stumble into Toto with Susie, also hand in hand. The moment freezes as you lock eyes, both of you caught off guard.

"Ah, Toto! Nice to see you! Ready to eat our dust once more?" Matt opens the conversation, stopping in front of them.

You bite your lip, half-wincing. Matthew playfully jabs to push Toto’s buttons. The Austrian raises an eyebrow, letting out a short laugh, though you can tell the jab stings, he remains grinning, his charm on full display as he answers, "Well if it isn’t the power couple of the F1! Dust? I’m here for the victory champagne, my friend."

Susie appears momentarily oblivious to the smoldering tension. She smiles wide, all enthusiasm as she greets you. "It’s a perfect clear night for a race, air is good, isn’t it? I can’t wait to see how it all unfolds!"

You can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy as you watch her holding him, effortlessly radiant, completely unaware of the awkward undercurrents swirling around you all.

Her joy in the moment only amplifies the tension, and you battle with the frustrating realization that you wish you could enjoy it as innocently.

Forcing a smile, you answer her. "Yes! Perfect!"

This is the closest Toto and you have been for a while. Your heart races, and you feel a blend of excitement and guilt as memories of your passionate encounters fill you back.

You can feel the weight of his eyes on you.

Matthew interrupts your stares. "Good for you, Toto, victory champagne tastes extra sweet when it's been a while without you tasting it" his smile is big and bright, and Matt snaps back all innocent looking, his hand fondling your hip tenderly but visibly. "Isn’t that right, sweetheart?" he places a soft and sensual kiss on your lips.

Toto shifts and clears his throat, visibly tense, and with that, Susie’s curiosity peaks. She shifts her gaze between the two of you, eyebrows furrowing slightly before forcing herself to smile brightly again and with genuine confusion, she asks, "Are you boys always this competitive?"

You gulp, unsure whether to laugh out of nervousness or shrink. Matthew chuckles, clearly enjoying his mind games, while Toto plays it off with a casual shrug.

"Oh, it’s just a bit of friendly rivalry! Susie, it's not like something else was going on" Matt emphasizes the last words. Much to both your dislike.

Fuck, he knows. HOW?!

Is he surveilling you? Oh, you gotta have a word, well, no, let's better not.

Then orchestra starts to play and you all glance at the stage, feeling the tension ebb with the music. The national anthem begins, and with it, your interaction reaches an end.

-

Neither Williams nor Mercedes gets to sip that champagne. Seb finally makes it to the highest of the podium, and you cheer your lungs out for him along with George and Millie standing next to him.

The miracle happened, lucky bastard indeed!

In the middle of that celebration, Seb turns mischievously your way, shaking that bottle most menacingly, before you can even react you are soaked, and everyone around you runs away as the rivers of champagne fall in.

Seb jumps down the podium stage and reaches you, among pats, hands, and shoulder shakes, loud cheers following him along.

He screams into your ear, and yet you can barely hear him, the crowd and music so loud. "Maybe this sounds absurd, and perhaps is the worst moment, but I can't deny what I feel for you. If you give me a chance, could I take you out on a date?"

"WHAT!?" This takes you by surprise.

Seb looks at your reaction a bit embarrassed now, the red of his uniform blending up with his face, and expecting a massive rejection on his way.

"So you don't mind that I'm married?! You don't care about my past and all that's going on around me!? Are you serious?!" you look utterly shocked.

"No, I don't! I like you the way you are," he says, earnestly.

FUCK.

"But what about the press!? If they found out... WAIT, and your reputation!? Seeing us together could be damaging for your career..."

"Oh no problem about that, we won't hide"

"WHAT?!" your face is a poem.

"I'm never hiding... ever again. I'm going to love you freely and fuck the world" he smiles brightly, drops coming down his hair and big eyelashes.

"But... If you regret it?! And by then the damage is done, you need to think..."

"I don't care, honestly, but do you?" he captures your hands, which were going all over, like an Italian man illustrating something but on steroids, and caresses them.

"Well... I'm done with the hiding too"

"So we could... You know... try it?" his eyes spark, and he looks at you as the most precious being walking on earth.

He is crazy, this is crazy, you are crazy, but for some reason, you nod in agreement.

-

Mathew did not make that long travel to Japan just to join you at the GP, he wanted to give you the long-awaited news that finally you got Lenkov to go on trial in between happy tears, both hugging real tight.

-

Seb becomes your companion for this entire arduous and bitter process.

He even helps you practice your testimony acting as if he were the lawyer and judge questioning you.

That man has watched too much TV and movies.

"Where's my Emmy?" he asks you, papers in hand, dropping himself on the couch next to you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

You chuckle.

-

Seb begs you to let him join you in person at the Lenkov's trial which will be held in a courthouse in Zurich, Switzerland.

He wants to be there for you when you have to face the man of your nightmares for the first time since you were a kid. You know that moment would take a toll on you.

But you say no, due to his protection and safe-being, you don't want to expose him.

-

You look astounded when you spot him among the court audience, feeling a bit mad at him at first but soon he becomes your rock during those three challenging nights.

Especially when he holds you in his warm embrace as you crash down in your hotel room, surveilled by security, after exchanging words and holding your own with Lenkov after years.

-

Going out on dates with Seb feels almost organic, natural, easy, and relaxed, there's no intimacy yet, not even a kiss, just tenderness all over, some cuddles, and nights spent together talking.

He is giving you the time you need, allowing you the space to heal, and it's exactly what you needed, who you needed, to pull you out of that void.

With Seb, there are no doubts, no secrets, just honesty and love.

The intrusive thoughts of Toto start to fade away, he slowly transforms into a distant memory.

-

Qatar

Nowadays, everywhere you go Sebastian is there by your side, at trips, galas, in corridors, at meetings, during breaks, at lunch and people are taking note of it.

Especially during the fancy party the Qatari organized due to their GP's anniversary.

You walked inside that luxurious open venue under the skylight, arm-in-arm with Seb, the two looking so comfortable with the lack of personal space between you.

As the party progresses, he, ever the charming gentleman with his warm smile, turns your way. His blond hair is tousled just enough to give him an air of carefree elegance; he looks radiant in his tailor suit while leaning closer.

“Shall we?” he asks you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. It is a simple invitation that sends a cascade of feelings coursing through you.

With a playful pull, he leads you toward the empty dance floor, you walk shyly at first. Almost instinctively, people turn to see. You can feel their eyes on you, curiosity brewing as if you were an unexpected plot twist in a story.

As the live orchestra starts a new song, the smooth voice of the singer pours from the speakers, wrapping the room in a sweet, melodious embrace. “Sway,” begins, the gentle beat inviting you two to move closer.

Vettel pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist, his touch igniting heat. “Just focus on me,” he murmurs noticing your nervousness, his breath brushing your skin.

With a confidence that is uniquely his, he guides you into a gentle sway, your bodies moving in harmony with the sultry rhythm. You could feel the mix of surprise and judgment hovering at the tables, specifically the Ferrari and Mercedes ones.

Even from a distance, you caught sight of Toto's furrowed brow, eyebrows almost meeting in disapproval; Lewis watching with his arms crossed, shooting glances that said it all.

"Y/N" Seb sweetly calls your name, asking for your attention back. You look into his eyes, those deep pools of sincerity that are becoming so difficult to resist. Suddenly, your worries melt with each passing note, every sway bringing you closer to a reality where you can love freely.

His steady embrace encourages you to lean into him further, to bury yourself in his warmth, placing your head on his chest, and your entire group of friends gasp in complete disbelief.

"WHAT THA FUCK?!" Lando lets out, almost spilling his drink. "WHY?!"

Oscar and Samantha laugh at his reaction but are as surprised as him.

-

By the end of that night, you feel lighter as if finally you were liberated from constraints that had once shackled your heart. Maybe you were reaching several closures as a person.

-

USA

"Howdy partners!? PHEW! PHEW!" Charles greets Sam and you wearing the world's most insane cowboy outfit, barrell fake gun and all.

"You look like a cow with those spotted leather chaps!" words burst out of your mouth as an instant reaction, not even a hi first.

"Where did you leave Bob SquarePants?" Samantha asks him, howling with laughs. "It's giving Patrick Starr"

"PERFECT!" Charles seems way too cheerful about that.

It turns out Leclerc is dressed like this for a sponsor's charity event made in collaboration with Nickelodeon.

Families with kids are everywhere on the grounds and installations were created on the circuit's fields for the special event, Carlos is the first of the gang to join you there, still healing from his accident.

No one dared to ask you about your thing with Toto, even when something was clearly going on between you two, although not as clearly as it is with you and Seb, Toto was notifiable only if you paid attention.

But this time around it was impossible to ignore the elephant in the room, especially when the elephant was holding hands with you in public right now.

"So are you two..?" Mick asks with half a smile already forming on his lips.

"Yes." comes in unison from you.

They don't need to know more. They don't ask more.

-

After eating a delicious grilled burger, you observe the parents interact with kids, Everywhere you look around there are families and you wonder what that would be like.

Sam seems to read your mind and reaches you to hold your left hand, and then you feel Millie holding your right one, also getting a sense of what is going on, now you are in the middle of a Dobrev sandwich.

Then Normani holds Millie's hand, and finally, Seb joins in, adding "I don't know what is happening, but I just wanted to hold hands with you girls." he smiles big and bright, closing his eyes and taking in the sun rays feeling them on his skin.

-

It's George's birthday. And it goes the most awkward possible that can go.

Just by start, he is so freaked out about getting old, that much so he doesn't want to throw a party at all and refuses the group's many texts and invitations to go out.

So you guys being... YOU GUYS.

Plan a small gathering for him at the hotel bar, just a Casa Blanca-inspired night, something simple, not too over the top but old-timey and fun enough as his style is.

You all show up in your best tuxedos and gowns.

Hanging around in the same small space, with Seb by your side and Susie by Toto's feels awkward as fuck at first, but as the night progresses you come up with good terms at completely ignoring each other.

Even if you try to black it out, you are utterly aware of the "Wait isn't she married?! And those two know no shame!" vibes coming from people.

When you reach closer to greet Bono, hanging with Lewis as usual, you move to embrace Hamilton and he pulls you away, making your jaw drop and your heart sink. For the rest of the night, you seem keen to address it with him, you want to know how to fix it and understand fully what's going on.

But he doesn't allow you the chance.

-

For much that a visibly hopeless Niki tries to bring you, Lewis, and Toto closer, creating dumb excuses for you to interact.

Nothing succeeds.

Until Sam calls for a few rounds of "Cards against humanity" almost by the end of the party when it's just "the OGs" remaining as she and Charles love to refer.

And Toto drops a "Slap me____" card and you can't resist it for your life.

Answering "Like one of your headphones", making him and everyone laugh like idiots and steal away the points for you.

He bumps you playfully with his shoulder, smiling brightly.

For the first time in a while, it feels like it used to be.

Maybe the two of you could become friends?

Yeah, puff, who are you kidding!?

-

Mexico

During the Mexican Grand Prix, it was almost Halloween and Day of the Dead.

So you texted in advance on the group chat, weeks before, that you all should show up wearing costumes. Hey, dressing up is always fun!

So you arrive at the paddock, excited to see what the others pulled.

Your meeting spot is the usual, behind the medical wing, near the ambulances' entry, where you all have more privacy.

You get there along with Mick and Michael (who showed up in versions of their Williams uniform but like they were basketball and baseball players).

You went dressed as Niki - red cap hat, silver headphones on, plaid oversized shirt with an exaggerated size access badge hanging from your neck - rocking those denim dad's jeans, and a ridiculous and enormous flip phone along with like four walkie-talkies attached to your black belt.

"Goodness! HA, HA" George tells you, smiling big at you when you reach him; he was the first to get there, with Angela and Roscoe.

"Pow!" You throw him a pose, "Pow!" a turn, and another pose, "Pow pow!" you point to your orthopedic sneakers, it was all in the details.

"Wait till he sees you. He will love it, Oh, I need my Merc shirt in this version" George greets you while grabbing the fabric on Schumi's shirt. "This is so cool, mate!" They get caught in a conversation about Jordan, Kobe, and the old guard and prime of players while Mick and you play with Roscoe (who hates his costume and keeps taking it off, God knows how Angela was able to get him into his tootsie roll candy suit).

Lewis is not around there until a couple of minutes later, acting still cold at you, he just waves a hand your way and that's it. When George approaches him smiling and stands by his side it's when you fully appreciate their outfits; George is the fish, and Lewis the chips.

"Niki has a better ass!" Sam tells you, looking you all up and from all angles and slapping your left asscheek, she arrives dressed as Ocon's FIA time penalty charts, many large cardboard signs attached over a form-fitted black dress. Enough penalties to cover her to the knees.

And Millie arrives after with what turns out to be your favorite costume of the day as "Lewis lost-projected to the skies all worn-out tire from the Miami GP" It has you all rolling on the floor and gagging.

"Oh, It's so fucking good!" Sebastian tells the group looking like a cute Toad, and Millie pats his cute puffy mushroom head hat. "You can punch it and still I will not feel a thing. That's how puffy it is" he says, and four immediate slaps come on Sebastian's way. Big mistake.

After him comes Charles dressed as "Charles Brown", with an oversized t-shirt and shorts, but instead of a yellow one, it's a Ferrari's red zig-zag stripe one along with a tiny horse plushie popping out of his shorts pocket. His version of Snoopy.

You hear a sexy "Sum sum" to your left and turn around to be greeted by a Lando leaning sexyly on the wall in his censored naked Sim outfit.

"Argh! It's so genius!" Millie lets out.

Last but not least, Checo shows up dressed as a Catrin, which impresses you with how artistic and cool it is, with Carlos by his side wearing a Transformer version of his car. Everyone squeezes in the selfie before Angela takes a proper group photo. You feel ready to break the internet that day!

Smiles, chats, and laughter fill the place as usual when you are all together. But you are missing one, a very important one for you.

Where on earth was Toto? He is in the group. The idea of him in a silly outfit got you curious and eager for days.

Around 20 minutes later, Carlos notices a cameraman in the distance, then photographers start to snap pictures and get closer. You all try to ignore them and get them to go away.

You succeed but then, 10 minutes later, an FIA steward calls you to their offices.

You returned after a while, and now the group was forced to hang inside the W hospitality, since the fans and press found them, demanding photos and selfies, Michael saved everyone inviting them in, so you all are having nonalcoholic drinks, and food there.

"Guys the FIA wants us to get rid of our outfits, and change for quote on quote proper clothes, costumes are not allowed, apparently, "Makes us look unserious and cartoonish," they told me" You go and imitate a boring middle age man voice, "and it goes against the FIA dressing code, I had no idea there was a dressing code" you rub your chin, like thinking.

"Well, it's not like we are planning to race in these!" Checo adds as a reply to the absurdity. "Besides, it's super early! Of course, we will change, but not now. Well, I'm not. I don't know you guys?"

A lot of me neither are heard.

"What do they plan to do? If we don't comply, I mean. Penalize us all? It's stupid!" Sebastian comments, getting visibly annoyed at them, but in his usual calm and soft voice, resting his elbow on Checo's shoulder, he was on his feet, and Checo was sitting on the high stool, enjoying french fries.

-

Penalties for everyone. That's what they indeed did.

-

"Weirdly, Christian was the team principal who took it better when he got the notice" you gossip with Charles.

He even told me: "You should have let me know! I lost my opportunity to show up as Ginger Spice!" he joked with you when you both crossed paths on your way to the garages.

Your relationship with him is weird but good. He's a little shit and so annoying regarding work and his schemings, but he's an enjoyable person offside tracks. One day, you ended up sharing breakfast by chance, and he turned out to be different from what you expected, you spoke about life and so on. 

But with Toto, the news of getting a penalty on their way due to your dummy ideas went bizarre pretty fast, you recall.

"What happened to your costume? Did the dog eat it?" you tease Toto, looking at his plain Mercedes uniform that night in Mexico.

"I'm a team principal. I thought it wouldn't be a good look, and judging by the fine resolution, it wasn't," he answers you deadpan, arms crossed, both leaning relaxed against a wall near their motorhome.

"So, you do care about how you are perceived?"

"Not precisely, but I take my job, and my position here seriously."

Your eyebrows go up. "Thanks, man. I'm a joke, then"

He didn't mean it that way. But, hey, at least now you two are talking, instead of ignoring each other existence.

"Just because one has a little bit of fun while doing its work doesn't mean it's not professional" you defend your point.

"Shit, then, I should have shown up dressed as Roger Federer as I planned" he winks at you and enters his garage, ending the conversation right there.

Bringing you back to the present, Charles replies: "That's why I don't get them. Why do they create those stupid meetings promoting sportsmanship and building relationships to burn all bridges? It's absurd, no?" The three of you are in pajamas and getting facials since it was the end of the day.

"Toto was pissed. He truly hated you a bit." Sam informs you, in her insides even though she is happy you are with Seb, there's still in her this doubt about where you are truly regarding Torger. She thousands of times would prefer he was with you instead of back with Susie.

"Oh, that man takes his job too seriously! Could be bad for his health!" you hint no more.

"Not just him, you won't believe what Mattia warned us?! He pulled me and Sebastian to the side after a team brief, by the way, he hates Seb even more now that he's with you, and told us that we needed to get our mind straight, that you don't win championships by being the friendliest on the grid, and that we should stay aware of those so-called friends' real intentions" Charles spills the tea as the violet light of the mask on his face goes off.

"Imagine what would do to him if he found out you two live together?!" Sam starts to laugh maniacly.

"They are getting so paranoid! And that's Christian's job, and he was so chill" You roll your eyes, as the esthetician turns off your mask and pulls it away.

"Well, Millie and Lewis got added seconds, which is an advantage for his team and Max. So... I get why he be chill with it"

"Of course, he is going to be chill!" Charles agrees.

"I don't know guys, I'm not with you on this one! I think he meant it."

"It's just that we know him more." They both nod.

"Years, yeah, years," Sam states.

"I'm going to be more careful from now on, to avoid you guys' trouble, I'm still so sorry." you sound a bit sad.

-

You apologize for the hundred times on the group chat and you receive lots of "fuck them" replies.

"You do you. I don't care what the FIA says, you are the glue, I don't remember a near time when everyone was interacting like we are now and it's all because of you, you are the glue." Carlos expresses.

Those words warm your heart.

-

Before the race starts you tap Vettel's helmet tenderly, it's Morse code for the word love. He is inside his car already in formation.

Toto watches from a distance,��but he turns away immediately as he gets caught by your eyes.

Yes. This could have been us if you had chosen me.

Lewis' car is right behind Seb's. He watches the full scene unfold before his eyes. You tried again to address things but he gave you no chance, he seemed so disappointed with you somehow.

-

After the race is over a furious Lewis intercepts Sebastian at the parking lot gates, as Vettel is close to his bike.

"You are a cheater, now?" takes him by surprise.

"It's not like that," Seb replies calmer, closing the gap. Lewis is wearing a gorgeous LV email leaning on an SUV.

"For real..." he rolls his eyes, angry, and shakes his head, hands entering the front pockets of his denim-pattered luxurious jacket.

"Lewis," says almost whispers, tender.

"You know I always held you so high." Hamilton bites his lips, not wanting to scream or cry.

"You trust me?"

"I don't know..." this seems to visibly hurt Seb, "If I do that anymore." he finishes saying.

"Why?" Sebastian sounds wounded.

"I don't comprehend who this is." Lewis gestures to him. "Who is this version of you? My Sebastian is a kind person and would never deceive anyone or hurt."

"Lewis, I am still that same person."

"Listen, don't mind me, you do you." Lewis moves his feet on the parking lot gravel, softly, he keeps his composure well.

"Lewis, it's not my place to tell you." Seb sounds hopeless.

"To tell me what?" Lewis for the first time, looks him straight in the eyes.

"The whole picture. Why don't you talk to her?"

"You are who I care about" his answer is fucking honest, "I just wanted to remind you that it never ends well, that you get burned when you play with fire, and that's all." Lewis shrugs his nose, sniffing a bit, the night air is as cold as this conversation.

"She cares so much about you, as well as I do, you know I love you. And I know you do, too."

"Well, as a person who got deeply hurt, almost annihilated, by a serial cheater, I don't feel like having business with someone of the same kind."

Sebastian knows Lewis means well. It is just his trauma and not understanding the whole picture talking.

"The truth always comes out," Seb reassures him. It is a phrase both faced in their lives.

Lewis always reacts weirdly when Sebastian has a new partner boy or girl. It was the same for him when Lewis introduced Miles to him. He just needs time.

"But, I hear you loud and clear," Vettel adds.

Lewis nods and gets inside the black-tinted car.

To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

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[ayanominitrash]

ease (Gojo x reader)

Navigating the in-betweens of you and Satoru - not quite lovers, not quite friends

♡

Satoru tries to ignore the ache in his heart at the way your hands clutches at the front of his uniform. 

He tries to focus, instead, on the way the back of his legs burn as he peddaled his way down the bustling streets with you seated behind him. The sun was dying down low on the horizon ahead, bathing the small town into hues of pinks, purples and oranges.

This was the first time after a long time he’s been this close to you. 

After two weeks, to be exact. 

He's seen you uncomfortable around him for two weeks. No bike rides with him home for two weeks. All of your friends and his spare him worried glances and for two weeks.

Satoru thinks they probably pity him.

They probably pity him with how he’s trying but failing to mend his friendship with you, after he’s told you he liked you - loved you. More than in the way you thought he did. He laid his heart out to you, only for you to hurriedly excuse yourself that night, two weeks ago.

But he doesn’t care if people pity him.

He’d do anything to make you feel at ease around him again.

Even if it meant the two of you staying as friends. Even if the very thoughtof it brings a burning lump stuck in his throught, a prickling sensation at the back of his eyes. He’d go through it all if it meant you two can be friends again.

Tonight, he wants to tell you just that.

Satoru, although it surprised him, didn’t want to ruin the chance to give you a ride home by asking you why. Questions like - what made you finally approach him after just giving him nothing but radio silence?

He finally stops on your street, planting his feet on the ground and rising from his seat, waiting for you to get down. 

You don’t.

Instead, you wrap your arms around him tightly, burying your face into the arc of his shoulder blade. He freezes. 

“I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Satoru smiles, and starts to relax in your hold.

“No, I’m sorry.” He starts. “It was selfish of me to. . . ruin our friendship like that.”

He feels you lift your head up from his back.

“. . . I just, didn’t know what to tell you. . .I didn’t even know. . . you. . .”

“It’s okay,” As you continue to lean against him, Satoru places a hand on yours. “I get it. I just want everything to be okay again. So please, you can forget about what I said. Please? I just want us to be friends. I promise I’ll be okay.”

You hold him tighter, “But that’s. . .not what I want.”

He feels his heart drop at your words. Satoru thought his heart had already shattered and break these past few weeks from the stinging pain of your rejection, but now, after hearing he’d done too much damage for you to refuse being his friend again, it has his heart painfully writhe in the hollow caverns of his chest. 

"Is this something we can't talk through?" Satoru asks, pulling his hand back from you. “Is it really so horrible that I like you?"

You paused. Then, “No, Satoru, that’s not what I’m saying. . .”

He scrunches his brows together in confusion as he looks over his shoulder to take a peak at you.

He almost topples over his bike with what he saw, if you weren’t still hugging him.

You were looking up at him with wide-glassy eyes, a blush across your cheeks, and your mouth tightly pressed in a line.

He had to look away, or else his new found heart beat might jump out of his chest.

“W-what’s - what’s with that look for? What are you saying? Hah. You’re making me nervous.”

You bury you face back on his back again. He can feel the warmth emanating from your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Satoru! I didn’t mean to - b-but the next thing I knew, it was two weeks and I-I still couldn’t bring myself to - t-to, to talk to y-you!”

Satoru chuckles. “Easy, anymore tighter and you’ll suffocate me.” 

He keeps your hands in place, indicating that he doesn't want you to release your grip even after you’ve  loosen your embrace around him.

The two of you stay like that for a bit.

He sees how some of the people passing by are giving the two of you odd looks, but he doesn’t care. 

Satoru would stay like this, if it meant that it’ll help you feel at ease. At ease with him. 

“I’m sorry.” You say again, after a few beats of silence.

“It’s okay.”

“. . .I love you.”

He tightens his hands around you. “Do you mean it? You’re not just trying to say that. . .for the sake of things? Right?”

For the first time in two weeks, he hears you chuckle.

“Who do you think I am?” You smile against his shoulder.

Then a kiss on his cheek. 

A gasp slips past Satoru’s lips and he swears the side of his face is on fire, the same way his resurrected heart is burning right now. 

He leans his head back, resting it on top of yours.

“I love you too.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

//

i wrote this instead of studying and doing schoolwork; help, i was trying to write a longer version of this but stopped in the middle [idk why it was so hard to write!] but let me know if anyone wants to see that and if it has enough of response, 'll try my best to complete it - or like, lol just let it die in my drafts like my others fics brrrt//kms // no what im not thirsty for some author and reader interaction here what - did u see that sukuna cover, how we were robbed of yorozu? (he slayed tho i <3 him)

[strawberrystepmom]

i love you more than being seventeen

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

word count: 2.7k

about: all that kento can think about at the end is you and you and you.

contents: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, JJK SHIBUYA ARC SPOILERS. mutual pining over the course of many years, angst, no happy ending i’m sorry :( but the story itself has a few cute moments

notes: this is a repost from my old blog. title is from evening sun by the strokes! i still love this fic so much and it’s one of my favorite things i’ve ever written BUT there have been edits made and the ending is a little different. same impact, just more concise. thanks for reading!!!!

divider is thanks to @/cafekitsune

When Nanami's consciousness begins to fade, darkness enveloping the edges of his vision, one of the things he can recall most clearly is you.

You're 15, it's your first day of high school. You're the only person in your class, just like him. He's graduating this year and has already mentally checked out, doing just enough to get through, but he can see how anxious you look. The sleeves of your uniform are a bit too long, he wonders if it's on purpose like his are and your backpack is clearly brand new and covered in pins you probably picked out just for your first day. 

A breeze picks up and blows the hem of your pleated skirt, exposing the skin just above your knee and he looks away immediately although you certainly can’t tell he’s even looking at you. Assessing you, the better term perhaps.

“Can you help me?”

A sweet and uncertain voice asks him. It belongs to you and he’s surprised that you asked him. It doesn’t take a very intelligent person to take one look at a 17-year-old Kento and see that he isn’t necessarily the approachable type. He isn’t unkind but his face is just as solemn as it will be when he grows up, mouth always set in a firm line. 

“Sorry, you’re probably busy,” you mumble and he shakes his head, hiking the strap of his bag back up over his shoulder. “It’s alright. First day?” You nod, your uncertainty obvious in every one of your movements as you grip the straps of your backpack tightly. 

“Someone was supposed to meet me here otherwise I wouldn’t be bothering you,” you explain as the two of you walk toward the sweeping entrance to the school itself. Your eyes widen as you take in the pillars and stairs, the greenery and flowers - it’s grand to say the least. Part of Nanami is amused watching you take it all in but he focuses on the task at hand. “It’s alright, like I said,” he starts and clears his throat. “Do you know who you’re supposed to be meeting?”

Your brow furrows, as if you’re thinking really hard, and you scrunch your nose.

“Gojo?”

Nanami rolls his eyes at the mere sound of the name. Of course he’s late and left you standing outside of the school, confused and alone. He knows that Gojo is technically his sensei now and he should respect him but he finds him just distasteful enough that it serves better to ignore him than to feed into his nonsense.

“Yeah, he does that,” Nanami shoots back cooly as he walks beside you up the steps. The zippers on your backpack jingle and he’s shot back into reality, ringing in his ears loud enough to quiet the sound of pumping blood. 

He swears you can hear you call his name through the chaos, the footsteps and the screeching, but he closes his eyes. Tightly. Tries to concentrate on the source of the sound before realizing it’s in his own head, the cinematic reel in his head playing on a strange loop of fragmented pieces of his life spent wishing for you.

You.

The two of you are thigh to thigh inside of a photo booth, music playing through the little speaker underneath the tiny screen where you can see your two faces. 

Kento isn’t sure how you roped him into this, an evening away from the school and in the city something you probably both needed, but it feels correct and inappropriate at the same time. The last few months have given him tiny glimpses into your life through the shared area of the student dorms. 

He knows that you leave your shoes wherever you carry them after you take them off with a disgruntled whine. He dutifully places them next to your door when he sees them, the soles touching and the toes of each shoe pointed toward the wall.

He knows that you stay up too late watching television when you should be studying, the fighting noises of shonen anime coming from beneath the door of your room or the common room while you giggle or gasp along. He always wraps you in a blanket his grandmother made him when you fall asleep on the couch, drool crusting over on the corner of your lips.

He would do these things for no one else and he believes that strange dedication he feels to your comfort has led him here, long legs jutting out in front of him a nearly too small photo booth. Your bare thigh is pressed against the side of his jeans and he finds it hard to breathe with the sweet smell of your floral shampoo filling the entire left side of this enclosed space.

Fight or flight begins to kick in as the situation overwhelms him but you place a comforting hand on his forearm and smile easily, reminding him that the countdown is about to begin and to smile. He doesn’t smile but the corner of his mouth quirks in a way that you find adorable enough to giggle at, your big smile filling the screen as the flash snaps the first of four photos.

“Another! Make a funny face this time,” you order and Kento nods, lifting the other side of his lips in what one could almost call a smile while you stick out your tongue and hold two of your fingers up in bunny ears behind his head.

You like him. Even Gojo has noticed it, calling you out during your last mission with him.

“So…Nanami?” He asked with a little sideways grin and you groaned in frustration and stomped away. Satoru knew it then. 

The shutter clicks and the flash explodes and you withdraw your fingers from behind Kento’s blonde head, feeling compelled to barely touch the top of it with your pointer finger. His hair is soft, brushed in front of his face, and you think you’ll remember the electric zap you feel like your heart forever as you gather your hands back in your lap.

Nanami assesses you carefully and shifts closer to you and you feel heat rise into your cheeks. The tips of your ears are warm and dangerously close to the side of his face and you look down just in time for the camera to click and to capture the top of your head and the side of his face. 

You laugh, shaking your head as the two of you compose yourselves long enough for the final photo and you gasp a little when Kento hovers his face just inches from yours. Your soft cheek nearly touches his cheekbone and you fist the fabric of your skirt to keep from freaking out as you grin. 

Giddiness rises inside of you, the proximity to the older boy sending your mind reeling with possibilities. You even notice both corners of Kento’s mouth have risen in a sort of smile as the final camera shutter sounds and the two of you file out of the booth and you reach to grasp the strip of photos, easily tearing it in half.

“Why did you do that?” 

Nanami asks, brow furrowed as he watches you look over the sets of photos contained in each of the pieces of the strip. You hold the one with the last two photos out toward him, the top photo showing him staring at the top of your head and the bottom his attempt at a smile. 

“Half for me and half for you,” you respond easily. 

He wishes all of this came that easily for him. These feelings, these moments, this tender sense of compassion he feels just for you. 

As the memory leaves, he’s reminded that the same strip of photos lives in the wallet in his left back pocket. Buried beneath business cards and bandages, a talisman to bring him back to you even when the two of you were separated after he graduated and left the school.

He hates thinking of those times, those years where he left you behind, but he’s too weak to will those memories away for better ones. The waves of his consciousness drift to another piece of his life, those lost years. His graduation. The ignored text messages.

“Happy birthday, Nanami-san! Miss you and hope to see you soon. Have a great day.”

He opened the message on his 22nd birthday and left it on read, just as he had with the message on his 21st, his 20th, his 19th. You’ve wondered several times if he changed his number and didn't let anyone know.

You’re 19, a year past your own graduation and you are working as a full time sorcerer. You aren’t particularly challenged in your role but you find it fulfilling in its own strange way. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you sigh as you scroll through the messaging thread and an indescribable wistfulness falls over you.

You’d go back and do it all differently if you could. Beg him to stay, encourage him in the work of a sorcerer, but that would make you selfish. Keeping him here would have been for you and not for him and there’s nothing saying you had the power to convince him anyway. 

Locking your phone, you drop it on the table and walk to the fridge where your half of the photo strip sits on the fridge all of these years later. It’s tucked beneath a magnet that holds up a copy of the graduation invitation you sent Kento last year. You texted him, asking if he’d like to come and perhaps you should have taken the hint back then. 

He doesn’t want to be friends anymore.

The realization hits you at once and you open the fridge, plucking out leftovers, and shut it with an unenthusiastic slam. Padding back toward your living room, you pick up your phone and unlock the device. The screen still shows your text message thread with Nanami and against your better judgment, you type. Thumbs moving thunderously, you continue typing until you feel satisfied you have laid it out for him and your finger hovers over the message. Pressing down, you try to highlight the text to erase it but instead you slip and hit the send button.

“Fuck!” You shout loud enough you’re certain that your neighbor will file another noise complaint and you feel more horrified reading over your words the second time.

Kento’s phone pings from where it sits on his desk, another late night in front of the computer keeping him from doing anything enjoyable on his special day. He doesn’t bother to check the sender, knowing it’s probably something asinine from a client or a coworker, but his eyes widen as he sees the preview of the paragraph sent with your name attached.

“It’s okay if you hate us now but it would be nice to know that you’re alright,” his eyes scan each word carefully and he isn’t surprised by their bite but he feels guilty. Raw and bubbling deep in his gut, feelings he contained through college and far beyond surfacing in ways he didn’t expect. “I was your friend. I still want to be and hopefully someday you will let me.” 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looks over the honest appraisal of his character (“you’re a good person and that will always be true”), the tough love approach you tested halfway through (“I don’t want to do this job any more than you did and here I am”), and finally the thing you wanted to erase the most before you sent it.

“I’ll always love you even if you’ve never had it in you to do the same for me.”

He wonders for a moment if you mean that. Do you love him? Did you feel it back then the same way he did? The syrupy light feeling in your limbs, the heaviness in your head every time the two of you would study or eat or spend time together.

Setting his phone back down, he wonders for a moment how much sending that message cost you considering the length and if he should respond. Was this your goodbye? A way of finally freeing him from your mind? 

Before he has time to truly think about it, his desk phone rings despite the time of day and he answers it with a sigh.

You look down at your screen and once again see a delivered notification with no sign of any other life on the other side.

“Kento!”

He’s glad you’ve dropped the formalities even if the timing is bad, his fatigued body stumbling in your direction. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air and blurry vision still shows him your face, gasping as you run to meet him from halfway across the train station that feels cavernous.

The last time he heard you shout his name was when he arrived back at the gate of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College, an employee ID card clipped to his slacks and his cursed tool snug in the harness strapped across his broad back. It’s new and familiar all at the same time and he hates thinking of the smug look on Gojo’s face when he called him to ask to come back.

“I wonder why,” Satoru teased from the other end of the phone. 

Nanami only sighed from the other end, the two of them continuing their quick back and forth and scheduling a time where they could meet with the administration at the school. Their conversation is quick and polite but the final words out of his old friend's mouth are what remind him of the first domino that fell and led him back to these stone steps. “She’ll be glad to see you again.”

You’re standing across the courtyard and he’s surprised to see you for the first time in 6 years. You look the same as you did on that first day in a lot of ways. A pleated skirt, breeze lifting the hem just slightly away from your bare thighs. He doesn’t bother to look away this time, the peek of skin enough to send heat up his neck.

“Kento!” You shout again, hopping and running in his direction. He shakes his head as your heavy boots smack against the pavement and before he can blink, you’re in front of him with a grin. “Holy shit!” 

Ever humble, he nods in your direction and tips his chin toward the ground to hide a burgeoning smile. He looks the same but different, just like you. The sides of his hair are shorter than you’ve ever seen them, the longer top slicked away from his face. He’s handsome - he always has been and you try to ignore the little fluttering feeling inside of your chest and in your stomach. 

“Welcome back,” your final choice on what to say as you clap your palm against his shoulder and he smiles at the familiar feeling. He never thought he’d experience it again. 

“Hey,” he says and you look up at him. The sunlight frames your face in a way he wants to memorize forever, emblazoned in a metaphorical heart shaped locket in his mind. He wants to look at you every day. He hates that he let pride keep him from doing that. Exhaling, he says the words he has wanted to since you were 15 and he was 17.

“I love you.”

The sound of your heavy boots across cement and tile are what he chooses to focus on as you continue your mad dash in his direction, his lips mumbling those three words over and over. He knows you can’t save him and he has come to terms with that reality but he wants to see you standing in front of him one last time. To see a breeze blow the edge of that skirt up just enough he can picture where he’d put his hands on your thighs if he ever had the chance. 

Before you can make it the distance, so close to him you can read his lips, his words change. You think you know what he was saying before his stumbling continued but that patchwork curse steps in front of him and blocks him from your view. 

“You’ve got it from here.”

He points in the direction of Yuuji Itadori who is on the opposite side of you and you turn your head to look at the pink haired young man for a single moment, confused.

You gasp when you turn back toward Kento and he’s gone.

He’s gone.

[sanjisprincesswifey]

it's been a long, long time ⋆ sanji x reader

summary: a certain song reminds sanji how much he missed you

♡: post whole cake island sanji (sort of spoilers for this arc). female reader. 700+ words. sfw. spotify link.

a crack of thunder has sanji’s eyes fluttering open, immediately scanning the room he had been sleeping in. relieved, his heart calms when he sees luffy, chopper, and brook all asleep in their bunks.

he cradles his pillow underneath his head, bringing the blanket to his face in a child-like manner. since returning from whole cake, it was not the first night he had been easily startled awake and left in the dark by himself. not even luffy’s snore (that was just as violent as his appetite) could provide the cook any comfort in alleviating his feeling of loneliness.

after tossing and turning for ten more minutes, the drowsiness vanishes with each painfully slow second that passes. too many uncomfortable sleeping positions are attempted until sanji decides that sleep was no longer an option.

the gentle raindrops catch in his blond hair as he scoots along to the kitchen, confused when he noticed the dim light creeping from underneath the door.

he’s compelled to knock before he enters, pushing the door when he hears shuffling coming from the other side.

“sanji?” you say, stepping towards him cautiously after having identified his unusually disheveled state. he neither moves or responds to you as you take his hand and shut the door behind him. “are you okay?” you hopelessly ask.

you already knew that he wasn’t.

a few raindrops fall from his wet hair as he shakes his head no. he leans into your body as you guide him to a chair at the counter, whimpering when you pull away.

“can i finish the dishes? i’ll bring you with me to the crow’s nest when i’m done,” you offer, brushing his bangs back from his face.

both of his curly brows soften, and the corners of his lips rise slightly, signaling that was a yes.

you kiss the spiral of eyebrow before returning to your incomplete chore.

sanji hadn’t noticed the radio transponder snail that had been on, now playing soft jazz for both of your enjoyment.

with his head in his hand, he leans against the counter happily watching as you took on the role he had always provided you. usually, it was you who sat in this seat, waiting for him to be done with the dishes so you could accompany the other for the night watch shift. now that he thinks about it, this is the first time this scenario had occurred since coming back.

a tear rolls down his face from the combined romance of such a bittersweet moment and the guilt from the events that transpired for you to get to this point.

the beginning few notes of a song begin to play as both your head shoot up and glance over to the radio.

neither of you speak as you dry your hands and without missing a beat, sanji stands up and walks over to you, collapsing into your awaiting arms. his head leans on your shoulder while his arms wrap tightly around your waist. your grip is much looser when you wrap your arms around his neck, running a hand through his hair.

sanji hums lightly to the music the two of you sway back and forth, light sniffles following as his body shakes ever so slightly.

you can feel his whole body relax when you whisper the lyrics along with him. his trembling hands hold you so fearfully, but you understood why and didn’t mind the pressure anyway.

“i was so scared,” he admits. his whole body is like jelly in your hands, completely dependent on you as his sobs become less and less silenced. “it was so dark there,” he cries, “i…i thought i lost you.”

you nod your head, your chest aching at each remorseful word. despite how much you had told him, sanji wouldn’t stop blaming himself. you knew he’d react this way, it was just the type of guy he was. you would always come first to him, even when he was forced to relive the pain and trauma his childhood had brought upon him.

unfortunately, you understood there wasn’t much you could do for him at this point besides love him, which wasn’t a difficult task to accomplish.

you run your hands through his hair, coddling him as the song hits the chorus. “haven’t felt like this, my dear, since can’t remember when,” you whisper, which begins to calm his panicked sobs.

you place a kiss on his head, “don’t worry,” you coo, as he picks his head up to look into your eyes. “i’ve got you now, my dear,” you hum as you cradle his face in between your hands, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on his lips.

like, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

[elthadriel]

Hi elth!!!!!! 💜 + fox/echo/fives 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Have a scene from a fic I will eventually write were Echo and Fives are working with the Rebellion and bump into Fox also working with the Rebellion. Then everyone is so cool and normal about it all!

Three of the lights across the ceiling are broken, leaving grey voids across the room. Fox sits next to one, right under one of the working lights, but the shadow creeping up on his right. His blaster is in pieces on the table in front of him, laid out as neat as any picture in a training manual as Fox meticulously cleans each piece.

Echo isn’t with him.

Fives clears his throat. Fox picks up the barrel of the blaster, examining it for any dirt or damage.

“Have you seen—”

“He went out,” Fox says, not looking up. Fox’s tone doesn’t leave room for follow up questions.

“Did he say where he was going?” Fives asks. They should be laying low until they hear back from the rebellion, but the city is big enough that one man wandering won’t attract attention. But it’s unlike Echo to leave after a fight. He likes to stay; make everyone soak in it.

Fox’s nostrils flair. It took two weeks, but Fives has finally managed to make him angry. It doesn’t feel as satisfying as he’d imagined that it would.

Fox places down the barrel of his blaster, and meets Fives’ eye. He’s in scruffy, unassuming civvies, with hair and stubble grown long past regulation. He looks every bit the marshal commander he used to be.

“Leave me out of your aiwhashit,” he warns.

Fives scoffs. Fox has been involved since he shot him, haunting them for almost a decade.

“How much did you hear,” he says. It will have been better if he heard none of it, but the safehouse is small and they’d been loud. Fives had been loud. Echo had been cold and quiet. It might be better if Fox didn’t hear, but maybe Fives doesn’t want things to be better.

“Enough,” Fox says. “I shouldn’t have brought you on this assignment.”

Fox is still acting like his rank means something, like his scores on Kamino can possibly still matter.

Fives steps across the around, around the table, towering over Fox. Fox doesn’t blink, doesn’t lean away. He’s not scared of Fives. Fives thinks he could change that. He shouldn’t want to see what it would take to change that.

“Why did you?” Fives says. He already knows. Fox has burned every relationship he’s ever built and this one’s already burnt. The pair to the blaster he’s cleaning is still on Fox’s belt, half hidden by his coat. Fives could pull it out before Fox could stop him. It used to be the sort of thing he thought he’d want to do.

“I incorrectly believed that you wouldn’t have been made  ARCs if you weren’t capable of being professionals.”

Fives kisses him. It’s closed lips, stubble scratching against his lips and then Fox jerks backwards, shoving Fives in the same action. Fives doesn’t go far, but Fox’s hand stays on his chest holding him at arm's length.

The light over them flickers but struggles on.

“I said don’t involve me in this,” Fox says, and the warning is thicker this time, more threatening.

“It’s a little late for that.” He and Echo should have ignored him back on the base. They should have taken one look at him and left him to his lonely little existence instead of trying to pick a fight.

Fox lunges up out of the chair and Fives doesn't step back fast enough. Fox’s hands grab the front of his jacket, but he barely needs to pull, standing closing almost all the distance. This time Fox’s tongue is in Fives’ mouth, their noses bumping teeth clicking. Fox’s grip on him is unyielding, but Fives grabs Fox anyway, holding him just as tightly. Fox doesn’t get exclusive power over keeping them together.

Fox pants into Fives’ mouth. His blaster bumps up against Fives’ hip. Fives takes a handful of his too long hair. If Fox walked him back to the couch Fives has no doubt they’d fuck on it. If he pulled Fox with him, Fox would go.

They break apart in some mutual moment. Fox’s expression is as closed up as ever, giving away almost nothing.

“Don’t tell Echo,” Fives says, guilt settling the moment the words are out of his mouth.

Fox sneers, an unpleasant reminder of how easy he is to dislike. “He doesn’t like sharing?”

Echo isn’t Fox. Sharing has never been the problem.

“He doesn’t like you,” Fives says. Fives isn’t sure he likes Fox either.

“Why does he hate me more than you do?” Fox’s face sours immediately, the question a moment of weakness.

There’s a lot of answers that Fox won’t like and a couple he probably would. Echo wasn’t on Umbara. He doesn’t understand that the image of Fox with his gun up feels a lot like Rex standing stoic while a firing squad stared Fives down. Echo will never agree to understand that.

“I’m fed up of letting you have that space in my life,” Fives says, unsure if that’s an answer Fox will like or not.

Fox lets out a rush of air that gives away nothing.

“Don’t tell Echo,” Fives repeats.

Fox sits back down, collecting a piece of his blaster, picking up exactly where he left off.

“Leave me out of this,” Fox repeats.

As if it’s that easy.

[satorubrain]

Can we get a part 2 of Changes pretty please 🥺

Amelioration

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader.

Tags: Fluff!!!

Synopsis: GOJO'S REDEMPTION ARC!!! No matter what happens Satoru is NOT going to give up. He's going to prove to you that he's changed FOR better this time.

A/N: the final part of the series changes!!

Part 1. Changes

Part 2. Impinge

6 months.

It's been six months since Satoru made Mina disappear. Six months of ceaseless trying. Only he knows how many efforts he has put in. Taking every mission near Kyoto just so he could cross paths with, even a glimpse of you at the Kyoto High would give him enough strength to keep going.

Coming up with reasons to see you- arranging tournaments, joint trips, missions of two schools just so he could see you have fun with your kids. The tournaments which used to happen once a year now happen every month.

It was one of the tournaments he had prepared under the pretense of helping the students get stronger. Everyone knew the real reason though. It was pretty to figure out- instead of participating, Satoru was busy completing your smallest wishes. Oh you're thirsty? Do you need water? Juice? Any other drinks? He has prepared everything. Hungry? Okay your favorite food is already on your way. You've been standing in the sun for far too long? He's your personal butler holding an umbrella for you, maintaining a distance. At this point you feel bad for him.

You think he's going to start jumping as you bring him to one of the empty rooms, so you can finally let him talk.

Closing the door behind you before locking it with one hand while the other is held by Satoru a little tightly, fearing you might leave him again if he loosens his grip on you. Hugging you tightly the moment you turn around to face him. His body is slightly trembling as he lets out a shaky breath.

"Please... Just give me a moment" he requests for your permission to let him hold you close in his embrace as he recollects his thoughts. Relaxing his entangled arms around you, enough till he's on his knees, looking up at your bewildered expression with his arms holding you close to him by your waist.

"Gojo..." you exhale gently, still unwilling to fully give into his wishes. At least not until he comes clean.

"Seven months. It's been seven months since I last held you. It's been seven months since I started trying to correct my mistakes. Finding proof against Mina, making her friend confess to her so I can catch her redhanded and well, the next six months were spent trying to win you back and ask for your forgiveness" he chuckles nervously "so do you think I've succeeded?" He looks at you, his eyes pleading, eyebrows slightly raised giving you an anxious yet soft smile.

You softly cup his cheeks, tracing his cheekbone with your thumb "I believe you've already proved sufficiently but" you exhale pausing for a moment "I think it'll be difficult to date me now, I'm quite terrified Satoru, I might push you away at times, I might not trust you enough..." you confess. You can notice his face contour into one of the expressions of hurt, realizing he's the one who has caused you such immense pain. And that's why he'll make sure you'll heal. He will stay with you through all the thick and thin.

"It is alright. I've made mistakes, so I must make up for it. No matter how much you push me away, I'll come back to you. If you don't trust me enough, I'll try to win your trust even harder. No matter what punishments you give me, I will gladly accept them all if it means you are standing along my side. So, do you think I can get another chance to prove to you that I'll only be yours? I promise I'll always live up to my words" He pours his heart and soul into this confession, begging for a miracle that you'll finally accept him.

You answer by leaning down softly connecting your lips with his, smiling into it as Satoru returns the kiss with fervour with a hand cupping your cheek and pulling you even closer, tear drops wetting the fingertips. Oh how you both longed for each other.

"Well then, from now on you'll only be mine. Never forget that." You breathe against his lips, grinning.

"Only yours." He swears.

AND THE CHANGES SERIES IS DONE!!!!! Feeling giddy over it hehe

[REQUESTS ARE OPEN]

[MASTERLIST]

[hannahmanderr]

A fight with Spectra leaves both Fenton and Phantom hurting in more ways than one.

They'll make it up to each other. They always do. (Pitch Pearl)

Rated: Teen

For @scarletsaphire and @duchi-nesten

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

“Wow, Spectra.” Phantom grunted as he dodged a swipe from the shadow ghost. “I never would’ve pegged you for the swimming type. Last time I took a shadow like you for a dip, they got the one way ticket to the Amity sewer system.”

Spectra tutted. “A girl’s allowed to have fun every now and then, Danny!” 

“And by fun, you mean trying to stage a little ‘accident’ for the first gym class of the morning?”

“See, you get it! A little tampering here and there is all it takes to give a couple of kids a shocker of a morning wake-up call!” She dissolved into a dark mist as Phantom made a dive for her, reforming after he passed through her harmlessly.

But he’d been expecting that. He doubled over backwards, arching his back into the flip, and snapped into a quick roll to make another pass at her.

Apparently, she had been expecting that too. She bared her claws and swung them in a wide arc, forcing him to twist out of the way to try to avoid them. The claws thankfully missed his chest, but she managed to snag his arm and rip four jagged cuts into his arm, almost like mini versions of the gash she’d managed to give him earlier.

“Gah!” Phantom clapped a hand to the torn jumpsuit. “Jeez, have you ever heard of nail clippers?”

Spectra grinned wickedly and made another lunge for him. “Ha! I’ve spent hours making sure my manicure is… on point.”

He barely had time to pull his hand away and throw up a green shield, deflecting her blow. Ectoplasm dripped from his glove to the tile and left tiny little glowing pinpricks on the dark floor. Kind of like stars.

Focus. Not the time to be thinking about that.

“Hey, the puns are my thing, alright? At least let me have that.” Flames of cold green energy burst to life around his hand, and he shot off a quick succession of blasts, hoping at least one would hit. 

He’d have taken the time to aim if he hadn’t already gotten his head smashed into the wall twice during this fight. Either that, or his slightly fuzzy vision indicated he was having a sudden need of contact lenses, but the throbbing at the back of his skull seemed to say otherwise. 

So maybe he had a tiny little baby concussion. No big deal. 

Only one of the blasts hit true, but it did little to deter Spectra. She snarled and called up her own purple ecto-energy. “And why should I let you?”A flick of her wrist warped the energy into a lasso. “You already have so much, don’t you?”

The lasso came flying at him. He darted to the left only to be met by the wall of bleachers, sitting halfway folded up. Figured. The janitor must’ve gotten lazy after the swim meet earlier.

Either way, it added a tally to his growing count of blows to the head today. He gripped his head tightly and tried to funnel ice energy into his hands to try and numb the pain a little, maybe even help put a block to any swelling, but all it did was open a window for the lasso to close around his ankle. A yelp escaped his throat as Spectra yanked him towards her.

“I mean think about it! You’ve got the powers, the looks, the personality…” Each word was punctuated by a sharp tug on the rope. “What more does a boy need, hmm?” She paused in fake contemplation. “Oh, wait! I might know!”

“Not! Listening!” He pulled fruitlessly at his leg to try and free it before giving up and shooting at the rope with an ecto-blast. His energy wasn’t quite strong enough to break hers. Of course it wasn’t. Just his luck. When had her energy gotten so strong anyway?

“How about a family who loves him? I don’t think you have one of those now, do you?”

“I said I’m not listening!” he shouted, though the weight of her parasitic words settling into his chest seemed to indicate otherwise. 

Ice. Surely ice would work. Phantom barely needed a thought to call it into his hands and coat the energy rope with a thick layer. He snapped it like a toothpick and immediately whirled around to fire off two blasts of ice as soon as his leg was free. They both missed, instead catching some of the swimmer’s blocks along the edge of the pool.

“Poor little Danny,” she cooed condescendingly, apparently unfazed by his escape. She shot off a couple of blasts of her own before disappearing in a whirl of shadow

Before he could figure out where she’d gone, she dug her claws into his shoulders. A whimper of pain squeezed past his lips as the fabric of his suit tore again, exposing his bare skin to her razor sharp claws.

“Maybe I should feel sorry for you after all! You’ve got the adoration of all these humans, yet you’ll never truly fit in with them. Of course, you could just stick to the Ghost Zone, but you’ve managed to turn everyone there against you! Well now, that really is a sticky predicament! Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let you have your precious puns after all.”

The toxicity in her words began to make him dizzy and lethargic, especially now that she had a physical hold on him. Her claws dug deeper and deeper into his shoulders. Why were her words getting to him this easy? It’s not like he didn’t know how to handle himself around her.

He shook his head and jerked half-heartedly, but that only succeeded in cutting himself open on her claws even more. Her venom wasn’t physical, sure, but it didn’t stop it from hurting as it penetrated him down to his very core.

“Stop it,” he panted, “I’m… you can’t get to me like that.”

Except she absolutely could, and she knew it just as well as he did.

“I want to help you, Danny, I really do.” She leaned her head down close enough that he could feel her lips graze his ear. He recoiled from the touch. “All you have to do is let me. I can take it all away, you just have to let me get in you to take it out. So simple… and then you won’t feel a thing. I promise.”

His struggles weakened as the words drove themselves into his core. 

She was right. It would be so much easier, wouldn’t it? To just give in?

No.

Just a little moment of selfishness. That’s all it would take. No more pain. No more heartbreak.

Fight it.

The town wouldn’t be completely unprotected. Valerie could handle it. And who knew? Maybe the ghosts wouldn’t attack it so much without him.

Fight it!

And if the ghosts quit attacking, then that would just solve the problem. A win-win. Everyone wouldn’t have to deal with the ghosts, and he wouldn’t have to deal with everything.

Fight it, Phantom!

The familiar voice echoed in his ears, trying to be heard over the static of Spectra’s spell. 

If he focused, it was as though he could hear it right beside him. 

A single ray of light, breaking through the heavy gloom of his own desolation and guilt.

Phantom!

So close…

Something jostled his shoulders.

“Godda- oh my God, please don’t…”

Strange. That voice really did sound close.

“I swear, Phantom, if you don’t snap out of it in the next ten seconds, I’ll… I’ll… oh, damn it…” 

Slowly, Phantom peeled his eyes open. When had he closed them?

His core throbbed painfully. Like someone had taken a dagger to it. A dagger made of misery-inducing lies, anyway.

“Oh my God, finally!” Warm hands moved from their position on either side of his head to clasp onto his shoulders. “Don’t you dare do that again, you - you… Oh my God…”

“Wha…?” He groaned and brought a hand up to his head, ignoring the sting of his wounds rubbing up against the hands. As his vision cleared, a dark head of hair and bright blue eyes came into focus. Off to the side, he could see a shadowy, glowing heap lying a few yards away, smoke drifting up from it. 

He struggled to sit up. “Jeez, Fenton, did you really shoot her?”

“Wow, okay, you don’t have to sound so surprised. What was I supposed to do, just stand there and let her waste you?”

“You… you shouldn’t be here.” If the pool could stop spinning at a million miles an hour, that would be nice. “I had it handled.”

Fenton scoffed, though his breath still shook. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. Being pinned down by a literal soul-sucking she-demon is definitely what most people would consider having it ‘handled’.”

Phantom took the opportunity to take gauge of his surroundings. He had no clue when he’d ended up on the floor of the pool room, but the soreness in his back definitely gave him the impression that he’d been dropped. Fenton must have dragged him here to prop him up against the bleachers. Ice still covered the swimmer’s blocks and some of the walls were singed from wayward ecto-blasts.

And then there, squatting in front of him, red-faced and panting for breath, was Fenton. He kept his arms placed on either side of Phantom’s head and leaned in oh so close, close enough that his warm breath tickled Phantom’s nose and chin and made him swallow thickly.

It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to push past that train of thought. Not the time for that. “I was just, you know… letting her think she had the upper hand.”

Fenton rolled his eyes. A little more of the tension relaxed from his shoulders. “Keep telling yourself that, ghost boy. Whatever floats your boat. But let it be known that today, I had to save your sorry butt for once.”

“I refuse to feed your fantasies about being my knight in shining armor any more than I already have.”

That made Fenton fall back onto his bottom with a thud and the red blush creep up to the tips of his ears. “Well maybe if you quit running into things alone for once, I wouldn't ha-”

A flash of movement caught Phantom’s eye.

It was the only warning he got. There was not a second to spare to alert Fenton; he simply threw his body into the human’s and tackled him to the ground. 

“Ow! What the fu-”

Spectra went whizzing over their heads, missing the top of Phantom’s head by inches.

It was a scramble of limbs as the two boys struggled to untangle themselves from one another. Phantom barely managed to pull his bleeding arm in to miss a blast of purple ectoplasm. Still with half-blurred vision, he threw out his good hand, and a shield cascaded over the two of them.

“Why didn’t you get her in the Thermos, you idiot?” Phantom demanded as he crawled over to where Fenton laid. 

Fenton rolled onto his back with a groan. “Excuse me for wanting to make sure you weren’t stuck in whatever the hell funk she was trying to put you into!”

Spectra’s energy slammed into the shield like a brick wall, nearly sending Phantom toppling again. His core still panged with the ache of the aftereffects of Spectra’s influence, and it fluttered weakly in his chest. A second strong blast struck him right down to the core and shattered the shield.

Fenton cursed again and began to search blindly for his weapon as Phantom took to the air again, ignoring the way his core and arm and shoulders throbbed. He fired off a quick succession of blasts himself and made a beeline for the shadow demon.

Much to his dismay (but not his surprise), she twirled around the attacks, and they sailed right by her as she cackled in delight. “Aw, looks like I really caught you boys off your game tonight!”

“I’m working with a concussion here,” Phantom growled, “cut me some slack.” He made a lunge for her as she still had her focus turned on Fenton, but this time he pulled up and out of the dive at the last second and allowed his tail to reform into legs. His foot connected with the underside of her jaw, sending her crashing into the ceiling.

“You have a concussion?” Fenton shouted from the ground. He’d found the blaster and was attempting to shove the cartridge back into it. “And you’re still at this?”

“Not to sound repetitive, but excuse me for making sure she doesn’t electrify the pool to kill a couple kids in the morning!”

Fenton glanced up to where Spectra was pressed against the ceiling, rubbing the spot where Phantom had kicked her. “Really? Electrifying the pool? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” she said. She zipped downwards, but to Phantom’s surprise, she diverted away from the two of them and made a mad dash for the live wires she’d been tampering with, lying towards one corner of the pool.

He wasn’t sure what she was up to, but he chased after her anyway. “I’m getting real tired of this game, you know!” he said as his core gave another painful pang. He didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold out. Her spell had really done a number on him this time.

Fenton finally managed to fit the cartridge back into his blaster, and he wasted no time raising it to take aim at Spectra. He fired one, two, three back-to-back shots, and Phantom prayed to the Ancients that the human’s aim would hold truer than his own.

Two of the blasts clipped her tail, but it was enough to make her falter and hiss. Phantom plowed into her at full speed and tackled her into the floor.

“Now how does that feel?” he asked with an impish grin.

“It’ll feel better when I’m pounding your skull in with an anvil,” she said with a snarl. “But don’t worry, I’m just warming up.”

It was his turn to falter (had she really just punned at him again?), and though he tried to recover quickly, it was long enough time for Spectra to take back the advantage. Too late, he realized the floor around them had begun to steam and the shadowy flesh (mist? Goo? It was kind of hard to tell with shadow ghosts) grew burning hot under his hands. It surprised him enough to cause him to yelp and push himself off of her, his core instinctively generating more of his cold energy to counteract the effects.

She took advantage of the opportunity to fly off again, Fenton’s blaster shots following right behind. Phantom shook his head - big mistake apparently, what with the state of his head at the moment - and took off after her again as well. Tag was really starting to wear him out.

This time, she managed to reach the wires before he reached her, and she wasted no time dragging them into the water. “Ah ha! See? Even with two of you around, I still get what I want!”

“You do realize we’ll just take them out once we get you back inside the Zone, right?” Fenton asked. He squeezed the trigger of his blaster again, but this time, only a few sad sparks puttered out the end.

“Oh my God, do not tell me you brought a dead gun to a fight!” Phantom shouted. He swiped at the wires, trying to pick them up off of the floor, but Spectra, in her madness, grabbed at him furiously in an attempt to get him to stop. Her claws dug deep across the backs of his shoulder blades as he tried to evade her.

That was definitely enough to elicit a curse out of the young ghost. Reflex caused him to try and put a hand up to the injury, but he couldn’t twist his arms or his torso right to reach it well enough.

Spectra didn’t waste any time before lobbing an enormous ball of her ecto-energy at him, and in his distraction, he didn’t notice it until it was too late. Once again, he was sent sprawling into the general direction of the bleachers.

“Phantom!” The shout came from Fenton’s general direction, but his head was swimming too much to be able to see him properly. With a groan, he pressed his hands to his temples again, trying to feed as much cold energy into them as possible. Anything to stop the throbbing and the spinning at this point.

A strangled sort of yelp snapped him out of it, and he looked up to see Spectra charging at Fenton, who’d begun to try and swing the strap of the Thermos off of his shoulder to use it. Phantom didn’t even have the chance to react before she swiped a hand up Fenton’s chest, raking into his skin and leaving four glistening red stripes, visible underneath the ribbons of his t-shirt.

Fenton’s cry of pain stabbed Phantom right in the core, and as he staggered to his feet to rush to his aid, Spectra fastened her hand around the collar of Fenton’s shirt and pulled him up into the air. She dragged him like a rag doll, only stopping to hover some 15 feet above the surface of the pool, near the ceiling.

Ecto-energy was already pooling in his hands in spite of the ache in his core and head, but she waggled a finger from her free hand at him. “Ah, ah, ah! I wouldn’t shoot if I were you! You wouldn’t want me to lose my grip on your little human now, would you?”

“Don’t listen to her!” Fenton shouted, struggling in her grasp even as Phantom froze in place, remembering the wires still live and still dangling in the water of the pool.

His mind raced, working desperately against the agony of his rapidly accumulating head injuries. He could just try and fly right at her, but she’d still probably drop Fenton, and he didn’t think he could bank fast enough to try and catch him before he hit the water. Maybe he could try and freeze the pool over, but again, she’d drop him the minute he made a move, and with his core sputtering like it was, he didn’t know if he could get a thick enough layer on fast enough to keep Fenton from crashing through and plummeting into the water anyway.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands behind his back. Show her he wasn’t about to try anything funny. He couldn’t think straight enough to do much else. “You… you win, just - just put him down, safely, alright?”

“Are you nuts?” Fenton screeched. “What the hell are you thinking? She’ll just drop me anyway!”

“You know, Danny, he does have a point,” she said, stroking her chin. “After all, your misery is just delectable. Why not sweeten it a little more by making sure your precious boy toy has a little accident of his own?”

The tips of Phantom’s ears burned cold. Any other day, he would’ve shot back with some clever quip that no, Fenton was not his “boy toy,” but the threat to Fenton like that…

“Please…” he whispered. He knew how pathetic he must’ve looked. If anyone else in the Zone saw him they’d have a field day. Probably end up on the cover of that stupid underground tabloid allegedly run by Kitty. “I won’t - I’ll… I’ll do whatev-”

“Just take the damn shot, Phantom!” Fenton yelled. His shirt began to tear even more where Spectra had her grip on it.

“Yes, Danny, take the shot,” Spectra purred. “There’s really no way out of this, you know. Either way, I get what I want. At least if you shoot me, you can say you went down swinging instead of lying down and taking it like a worthless dog.”

The words bit into his ears and embedded themselves in his core. No, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t, but as much as he fought, he couldn’t deny that she had a point… If his head would just stop spinning he’d think his way through this, he’d come up with an idea to save Fenton, but he could barely focus on keeping his lunch in his stomach.

On the edge of a full-out panic attack, he didn’t even think as he looked up and found Fenton’s fierce blue eyes. Their gazes met, and even from the distance…

Phantom wasn’t quite sure how it happened, or even why it happened. Maybe it was a spontaneous ghost power. Maybe he was just imagining it. Maybe he still remembered how his soul once twined together with Fenton’s, before they split, and maybe even after they split, a little piece of each of their souls stayed with the other and bound them closer than they had ever been, even when they had been one person.

Whatever it was, he didn’t know, but the moment he met Fenton’s eyes, he could see. 

Fenton trusted him. With every fiber of his being and every beat of his wholly human heart, he trusted him.

Do it.

So he did.

In one motion, he brought his hands back out in front of him and shot a single beam of ecto-energy at Spectra. Without waiting to see if it hit or how long it took her to drop Fenton, he darted forward, flying out over the electrified pool.

He caught a glimpse of Fenton’s free fall just ahead of him, and he poured on the speed. Just…

… a little…

… closer…

Phantom grunted and faltered as Fenton landed in his outstretched arms, nearly dragging them both into the pool. He kept his forward movement and held onto the human for dear life (quite literally, apparently) as Fenton fumbled with the strap of the Thermos.

Above them, Spectra screamed furiously. Phantom could feel the intense heat of her anger flare bright and start speeding towards the two of them. 

But Fenton was already on it. He twisted in Phantom’s arms and aimed the Thermos at her, and in a matter of seconds, she had been secured inside.

It was only after Spectra had been caught and they were safely above dry ground that Phantom slowed his flight. Only then did he notice just how fast his core was vibrating and the adrenaline pulsing through his body that he could only attribute to his ghostliness. The whole thing had taken mere seconds, but to him, each second had felt like an eternity.

Fenton had one arm wrapped in a death grip around his shoulders and the other folding the Thermos in between their stomachs. In this position, Phantom could feel the flutter of Fenton’s heart and just how shallow his breaths were. Black hair brushed against his jaw, but he couldn’t be bothered to move it out of the way.

He just wanted to hold him tight to him and never let him go.

Fenton turned his head to look up at Phantom, the hairs tickling his skin as they dragged across his chin. That smarmy little jerk had the gall to grin up at him, still breathless, and say, “Thanks for letting me drop by on such short notice.”

Phantom groaned and shook his head, which just made Fenton burst out laughing.

He flew them over to where the wires had been put into the pool. Carefully, making sure to mind the human still clinging to him, he grabbed them at the dry bits and lifted them out of the water. A little bit of intangibility made sure they were free and clear of any dripping.

“I, uh, don’t suppose you know how we turn these off?” he asked. Now that the fight had ended, his voice echoed throughout the large room, just reemphasizing how eerily quiet it had become.

Fenton shrugged. “Fuse box? Where’d she even get them anyway?”

“I don’t know.” He opted to lay them out on the tile, away from the water and away from the metal bleachers. He could figure it out in a bit. For right now…

A warmth on his stomach drew his attention. “Ancients, Fenton, what were you thinking?”

Fenton looked down at his tattered shirt and the blood seeping onto it and Phantom’s jumpsuit. “Tis but a flesh wound,” he said with a little laugh.

“Spectra rips into you like wet toilet paper and all you can do is quote Monty Python at me?”

“It’s not like you’re doing much better!” Blue eyes trailed to the green-stained tears in his jumpsuit. 

Phantom bit his lip. The urge to scold the human and fuss over him was nearly overwhelming, but he knew Fenton would throw a fit if he ignored his own injuries. “Okay, okay here.”

He touched down beside the pool and set Fenton down as gently as he could. Fenton sprawled out over the tile with a sigh. A whine stirred in Phantom’s chest as the familiar weight and warmth left him, and it took every ounce of his self-restraint to choke it back and keep himself from latching on to him.

Instead, with a swallow, he knelt beside the human and carefully pushed the ribbons of t-shirt fabric out of the way. The cuts in Fenton’s chest weren’t horribly deep, but they continued to ooze blood and stain the shirt.

The hand he placed next to the wounds was feather-light. “I can’t believe she got you like that…”

Fenton laughed hollowly. “And I can’t believe she ruined this shirt. Sam will never buy me another concert t-shirt ever again if I keep getting them ruined.”

The joke fell on deaf ears. An idea was blooming in Phantom’s head, he just didn’t know…

“May I?” he asked, pointing to the cuts.

“... You don’t have to ask permission. It’s not anywhere your hands haven’t already been, you know?”

Oh, Ancients. His cheeks burned bright enough green to cast the barest hint of a glow on Fenton’s face. The human snickered at his reaction. “Wow. I guess you can say I really know how to turn you on, huh?”

If possible, the glow brightened. “Just shut up and let me try this,” he muttered grumpily.

He set his jaw and placed a gentle hand over the bleeding wounds. Fenton let out a quiet hiss as the glove made contact with the open flesh, and Phantom couldn’t hide his own wince upon hearing it. 

It’s okay. Focus. He breathed in deeply - a habit leftover from when they had been one what seemed like forever ago - and drew cold energy from his core. Lessons from Frostbite echoed in his ears as he zeroed in on the energy, trying to carefully twist it just so…

Fenton gasped when the hand began to glow a pale blue, radiating a pleasantly cool energy. Phantom felt him lean into the touch ever so slightly.

“That’s nice,” the human whispered. He closed his eyes and let his head tip backwards.

Phantom ignored him solely out of a need to concentrate. It was a constant, precise work, drawing up the energy, carefully reshaping it, channeling it up and out of his arm, not too slow but not too fast, either.

The two of them sat there in comfortable silence, their faces lit only by the glow of Phantom’s hand, the underwater lamps lighting up the pool, and the two lone emergency fluorescents hanging overhead. Fenton’s even breaths and the hum of the pool filter were the only audible sounds.

It was nearly ten minutes before Phantom pulled his hand away abruptly and fell to the side, barely managing to catch himself before his head smacked into the floor yet again. 

Fenton’s eyes flew open at the sudden disappearance of the ghost’s cool touch. “What hap- oh.” He looked down at himself, where newly mended skin replaced the wounds. The only indication that there had been an injury in the first place was the pinkish shade of scabbing skin, almost like a sunburn.

A grin blossomed on Fenton’s face. “No way, you can do that? That’s so cool! How long - whoa, whoa, whoa, wait, what happened? Are you okay?”

If the unbearable pounding of his head and core and everything weren’t enough to prove that. “Jus’ a little tired,” Phantom mumbled. “Probably… used too much energy at once…”

“No shit you did! Like seriously? You take that big of a blow from Spectra and then try and heal me? What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m fine.” He grunted as he pushed himself up a little more. “I jus’... need a sec. Just a sec…”

Except he overcompensated while trying to prop himself up. A new wave of dizziness washed over him, and he began to topple the other way.

Fenton cursed again as he scrambled to grab Phantom and shove himself in between the ghost and the tile. “You’re such an idiot,” he said even as he shifted their bodies so Phantom’s back leaned against his arm. “And don’t you dare say anything about being my idiot or whatever.”

“Wasn’t going to.” Phantom sighed and slumped even further against Fenton. The cuts on his back screamed at the friction, and he knew he was probably just staining Fenton’s shirt even more, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.

Screw the circumstances. This was nice. Just existing together like this.

After a moment, he felt Fenton let his head lean against the top of his own. “Seriously though,” he said, wrapping his pinky around Phantom’s. “Why would you do that? It could have waited, it wasn’t even that bad.”

Phantom exhaled. If Fenton was seriously expecting to have this conversation right now, he was about to be sorely disappointed. “I was just making sure.” The words sounded flimsy even to him.

“Yeah, sure. Definitely not you being an overprotective neurotic like you are.”

The frustration behind Fenton’s words surprised him. It… definitely hadn’t been the response he’d been expecting. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it’s supposed to mean?” Fenton huffed. “You always do this! Act like some sort of martyr or something when it’s totally unnecessary. All you’re gonna do is end up screwing yourself over!”

Okay. Apparently this conversation really was happening now. “Is it so wrong to try and help? Because I know you’d do the exact same thing if you could. And you still try anyway.”

“Did I say it was wrong to try and help? You know I’m not gonna stop you from helping out, especially ‘cause duh, I want to help out too, but no, I’m talking about stuff like this.” Phantom craned his neck around to see Fenton gesturing at his torso. “The extra stuff that’s more than just helping.”

Ancients, how could he explain this without getting himself into hot water? “I just… get worried…”

Fenton scoffed. “Worried? About a few little cuts? You know for a fact we - I’ve taken harder stuff than that. So why freak out when clearly you’re the one that needs the healing?”

“It’s not the cuts!” Phantom said before thinking. This was exactly what he wanted to avoid, this sort of argument, especially when he knew his mouth was going to get ahead of himself and make him regret it. The exact kind of conversation he should be avoiding while nursing a weakened core and a concussion. “I just… it’s complicated, okay? Look, can we… can we maybe just, not do this right now?”

A silence fell over the two, only broken when Fenton lifted his head and leaned forward to get a better look at Phantom’s face. “Do you… are you, like… hiding something?” he asked quietly.

The hesitation and tension in the question was palpable in more ways than one, at least to Phantom. It left a slightly spicy taste in his mouth and made his own core seize up. “N- why would I be hiding something?”

Fenton fingered a rip in his jeans. “I dunno, you just seem… more nervous, I guess? And I just - I don’t know, I’m just worried, like… do you… trust me?”

“What?” That sent a jolt through Phantom’s core. He sat straight up, ignoring the surge of pain that accompanied it, and turned to face Fenton head on. “Why wouldn’t I trust you?”

“You don’t have to tell me it’s dumb, alright? I already know it.” Fenton refused to meet his eyes, instead pointedly fixating on that little rip. “I’m just - argh, you’re gonna think it’s so stupid!”

Phantom hesitated before gently grabbing the human’s fretting hand. “Look, I promise, I trust you, okay? I didn’t realize… I’m sorry if I did something to make you think…”

“Ugh, that’s the problem, you didn’t do anything!” Fenton shouted in exasperation. He hugged his knees into his chest, but allowed Phantom to keep holding his hand. “It’s just me being stupid, alright? Just… forget I said anything.”

Another silence fell between them. Phantom watched him closely. The emotions coming from Fenton were growing increasingly complex and frustrated, and it didn’t help matters that Phantom grew frustrated that he couldn’t properly read them. Whatever was going through Fenton’s mind, it ran deep.

He took in a shaky breath, as unnecessary as it was. They were clearly both holding back from each other, and they were clearly both nervous about how the other would react. If Jazz were here, she’d be scolding them for repressing such strong emotions, especially from one another. She’d go on a whole girly tirade about the importance of openness and honesty in relationships.

To be fair, she generally knew what she was talking about when it came to this stuff.

So maybe he should try and listen.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he blurted, “I was scared, alright?”

There. The proverbial olive branch. 

One of them would’ve had to bite the bullet eventually.

Fenton jerked his head up. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that. “Scared of what? The cuts?”

“No, not - not that.” Now it was his turn to avoid the other’s eyes. “I… seeing her grab you like that, and then if she’d dropped you, you would’ve fallen in and…”

“But you caught me. It worked out okay.”

“And what if it didn’t?” His core began to pound harder. “What if she’d let you go and - and you fell, and I didn’t get there in time?”

Their gazes met. Phantom found himself wanting both to rip his eyes away and lose himself in Fenton’s pretty blue eyes at the same time.

He hated the feeling.

Finally, Fenton sighed. “... You wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Okay, maybe you thought that, but not me! I couldn’t even think straight because of this stupid concussion and I didn’t know what to do, so what do you expect? Am I not supposed to be scared?”

“Oh my God, no one said you couldn’t be scared, alright?” Fenton uncurled himself and swung his knees underneath him to sit on his heels. “Like duh! Of course you’re gonna be scared, but that’s not a reason to pop off and try and get yourself hurt just to save me a couple of scratches!”

Phantom sat up straight. “You never know if those ‘scratches’ are gonna be the tipping point! If you’re hurt and I can do something about it, then why shouldn’t I?”

“Because like it or not, you can’t!” Fenton shouted. The words hit Phantom harder than any hit he’d taken from Spectra.

And Fenton wasn’t done either. “You’re not perfect, alright? You’re just… you’re not gonna be! You can try to do everything you can and bend over backwards to make things perfectly okay for everyone else, but at some point, it’s not gonna work! And then what? How - how is you getting yourself hurt making everything okay?”

“I don’t care if I get myself hurt!” Phantom snapped. The words were getting ahead of him again, and as much as he knew he would regret it, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to try and contain them. “Do you know how hurt I would be if I lost you?”

“Of course I do, you idiot, I lo-” Fenton cut himself off as his entire face flushed red.

The pounding of Phantom’s core echoed in his ears, and a strange thrill ran through him. 

Say it. 

Please, I need to hear you say it.

Fenton’s eyes squeezed shut. “I… I care about you… a lot, okay? Like, more than I’ve ever really cared about most people. You… you talk so much about being scared for me, and not knowing what you would do if you lost me, but… haven’t you thought about what I would do if I lost you?”

Phantom froze. The thought had always been there, of course, somewhere in the back of his mind, but…

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Fenton didn’t say anything for a long moment. “You don’t have to apologize, I…” He sighed heavily. “I know you’re just trying to look out for me, and I swear, I appreciate it. It’s… It feels nice, having someone care about me that much, but at the same time, it’s like I hate it, ‘cause - ‘cause it hurts me to see you always throwing yourself into these sorts of situations and just getting yourself more hurt when you don’t need to be and all that stuff.”

Phantom didn’t know how to respond to that.

He sat and watched the refracted light from the pool dance across Fenton’s face as the human stared somewhere across to the other side of the pool. That sort of an outburst… that wasn’t like him. Granted, neither of them ever really enjoyed talking about feelings-with-an-F, but still.

Fenton’s sudden movement caught his attention. “Where are you going?”

The human stood and brushed off his jeans. “You’re still bleeding,” he said, as if that explained everything. “If you get to patch me up, then I get to patch you up.” Without waiting for Phantom to respond, he walked over to the boys’ locker room door and disappeared behind it.

Phantom watched the door swing shut in silence. A certain brusqueness lingered in the air, making his nose itch. 

That could’ve gone better.

But what was he supposed to say? His own feelings were… complicated at best. On one hand, it made his core sing hearing Fenton talk about how much he liked having him worry about him like he did.

Yet on the other, it shattered him to hear the pain and anxiety behind Fenton’s words.

He shifted to let his feet dangle off the edge of the pool and began stirring the water absently with the toe of his boot. At least I made sure the water’s fine, he thought to himself with a grim sort of smile.

Wish I could say the same for him.

Fenton returned a minute later with the first aid kit from his locker in hand, wearing his gym shirt. He wasted no time in kneeling beside Phantom and popping open the lid to grab the antiseptic wipes and gauze.

“What did you do with the old shirt?” the ghost asked quietly.

Fenton shrugged. “Tossed it. What else would I have done?”

“I don’t know. I figured you’d be worried about someone seeing it.”

“Nah. No one ever looks in the trash in that bathroom. That’s like, asking to be scarred for life. Unzip your suit for me, will you?”

Phantom obliged and shrugged his arms out enough for Fenton to wipe at the claw marks. He hissed at the sting, and he didn’t miss how the human’s movements faltered just the slightest bit. Still, he pressed on, gently cleaning away the ectoplasm.

Phantom tried to temper his blush. He was never this tender when taking care of his own wounds.

The tension in the silence began to rub at him. “You… how long have you been wanting to say that?” he whispered, not even bothering to refer to what “that” was.

The breath from Fenton’s long sigh warmed his bare skin. “It’s not exactly like… something I’ve been planning on saying or whatever, it just… came out.”

There was some sort of joke in there somewhere, but now probably wasn’t the best time.

Instead, Phantom cleared his throat. “You know I’ve never meant to hurt you, right?”

“Of course I know that.” Fenton tore open a packet of gauze and pressed it against the cuts on his arm. “Look, this… we’re not in some sitcom, alright? You don’t have to get all sappy on me or whatever. Just… let me take care of your stupid butt.”

Holding back one joke had been hard enough, but holding back a second was impossible. “Says the guy who couldn’t keep his hands off my ‘stupid butt’ a few nights ago.”

Fenton made an odd sort of choking sound, and Phantom couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “I take it all back,” the human grumbled as he taped down the gauze. “You’re the biggest jerk of them all.”

“Only for you.”

Another packet of gauze was torn open and taped to his shoulder before either of them spoke again. “Alright look, I promise I won’t get super sappy on you okay?” Phantom said. He scratched absently at the drain ringing around the pool. “But like… I also don’t want to go on hurting you.”

Fenton sighed again. “Seriously, you don’t ne-”

“No, I do. Even if it’s just for me.” He exhaled shakily. “You… you know I can’t just like, stop jumping in to help and stuff, and you’re right, maybe I do overreact a bit -”

“A bit?” Fenton asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Whatever. I overreact, okay? Happy?”

“Well… it’s at least nice to hear it come out of your own mouth,” Fenton admitted as he pressed a third gauze pad to his other shoulder. “But go on. Since you’re so determined to say this, apparently.”

Phantom closed his eyes as his chest tensed. “I was just gonna say I… I can try and be better about it. Like I can’t promise I won’t get in too far over my head, but… I can try. For you. So you don’t have to worry so much.”

Only the gash on his back remained open. Fenton trailed a gentle finger around the torn skin, leaving the barest traces of warmth in his wake. Phantom swallowed as he realized just how desperately he wanted to feel the full weight of the human’s warmth around him.

Finally, Fenton grabbed one last gauze pad. “You realize that means you can’t flip out on me if I get a papercut, right?”

“What? When have I ever done that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy’s lips tick upward. “Kidding,” Fenton said with the tiniest laugh. “Just giving you a hard time.” He smoothed the last piece of tape in place and helped work the suit back around Phantom’s shoulders.

“Right,” Phantom grumbled as he zipped the suit back up. “Pick on the guy with a concussion. Hilarious.”

“Eh, consider it payback for being so stupid in the first place.”

“What, like having my pride ruined isn’t punishment enough?”

A lump formed in Phantom’s throat as Fenton leaned in close, the black and white of their bangs intermingling with each other. If he needed to breathe, surely he’d be so dizzy from how quickly and how shallow his breaths had become and how violently his stomach and core fluttered. The heat from Fenton’s breath warmed his flushed cheeks.

Ancients, this wasn’t anything new. They’d been this close - or even closer - too many times to count at this point. 

So why did he feel like a kid about to try to kiss their crush behind the school playground?

Right when he didn’t think he could hold out any longer before grabbing Fenton and closing the distance between them, the human broke out into a wide, devilish grin.

“Nope. Not enough.”

Phantom blinked as Fenton laughed and stood up, practically skipping away in glee.

Of course he would. That asshole.

Fenton’s giddy laugh echoed throughout the room as Phantom glared after him with a frown. A shimmer caught his eye, and he turned to look at the rippling surface of the pool. 

A wicked grin - the perfect mirror of Fenton’s - grew on his face.

Two could play at that game.

The throbbing pain of his head was a thing of the past as he lifted into the air and dashed after the human. Fenton was too lost in his amusement to even notice Phantom until it was too late and he had been plucked into the air.

“Not fair! Let me go!” he shouted, kicking at the ghost in protest.

Now it was Phantom’s turn to laugh. He dragged Fenton out over the pool. “Let you go? Are you sure you want me to do that?”

Fenton must not have noticed their position. “I swear, if you don’t let me go…”

Phantom shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself,” he said before dropping Fenton unceremoniously into the pool with an enormous splash.

He couldn’t contain his laughter as he watched Fenton sputter and flail to try and right himself. “Hey, look! You’ve just fallen in, and I’m not freaking out trying to rescue you or anything! I’d call that a solid developmeeeent!”

Fenton had apparently reoriented himself enough to latch a hand around Phantom’s ankle and yank him straight down into the water. A swarm of tiny little bubbles engulfed him as he sank down from the force of Fenton’s pull. 

Ectoplasm was far less dense than water, so by all accounts, he should’ve bobbed right back up. A little bit of flight worked wonders to keep himself underwater. Still grinning, he found Fenton easily and surged at him in a tackle.

Splashing and rushing water filled their ears as the two boys tussled with one another, grabbing and kicking and punching wherever they could, not caring that Phantom was still technically injured. In one moment, Phantom had Fenton pinned down underwater kicking furiously, and in the next, Fenton had shoved Phantom into the pool wall.

Phantom phased himself out from in between Fenton and the wall only to be pulled under again by the human. As they both sank deeper, hair swirling around their heads and ripped clothes fluttering in the current, Phantom turned his head and instantly locked into Fenton’s blue gaze.

If he’d had breath, it would’ve caught in his throat. The sight of the human - his human - with clothes and hair floating weightlessly in the water, framed by the soft golden light of the lamp behind him, absolutely mesmerized him.

The urge was too powerful to fight this time. Before he could think, he took Fenton’s flushed face in his hands and brought their lips together with a hunger that made his head turn into static for an entirely different reason than a concussion.

Their mouths fit perfectly together. Like they had been made for each other.

Fenton responded just as earnestly, wrapping his arms around Phantom’s neck and tangling his fingers in the flowing white hair. He pulled the ghost in closer and pressed into his mouth greedily. 

A thrill ran down Phantom’s spine as the heat from Fenton’s lips burned pleasantly against his chilly skin and sent a spike of warmth straight into his core. He brushed a thumb across his human’s cheekbone and smiled into the kiss when he heard Fenton’s watery sigh from his throat.

He could've stayed there for eternity, kissing his human in the light of the pool lamp. Just the two of them drinking each other in with a thirst that could only be satisfied by the other. 

All too soon for Phantom’s liking though, Fenton was humming insistently and pulling up on his hair. Stupid humans and their stupid need to breathe.

He sighed and broke off the kiss, wrapping his arms around Fenton’s waist as he kicked upward. They both gasped for breath when they emerged on the surface - Phantom more so out of old reflex than anything.

He shook dripping wet hair out of his face. “Wow,” he whispered breathlessly. “That was -”

He was cut off as Fenton used his hold on Phantom’s head to pull him fervently back into the kiss with a nibble at his ghost’s lower lip. Phantom’s eyes flew wide open in surprise before allowing himself to relax into his hold. His hands slid into their familiar spot on Fenton’s hips as the warmth washed over him like a tidal wave.

Fenton bit down harder on his ghost’s lip, eliciting a moan from Phantom and giving him deeper access to the other boy’s mouth. He slipped his tongue in between Phantom’s lips and swept it through his mouth with a longing that he could physically taste on his human. 

Ancients, he could get drunk off that taste.

He let himself get lost in the haze of pleasure as Fenton’s tongue freely explored his mouth, darting in and out and tracing the underside of his own. It wasn't often that Fenton took initiative like this, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t exhilarated by his human’s ability to take charge and absolutely ravish him. Something about it - losing himself to Fenton’s affection, the desperate need to pull himself even closer to him, his other half, his perfect match - lit a cold fire in his core that intertwined with the warmth that burned through his body.

Absently, he moved his hands up Fenton’s stomach, taking the time to ghost his fingers around the outline of his ab muscles. That earned him a gasp from his human, and warm fingers knotted themselves even further into his hair, as if he still wasn’t close enough.

A split second grin was the only warning before Phantom recaptured Fenton’s mouth. He swiped his tongue against the other boy’s impossibly smooth, heated lips and shivered in sync with the hum that issued from his human’s throat and reverberated into his own mouth. 

So maybe he still liked to take charge himself. He blamed it on a ghost thing.

His hands continued to trail up Fenton’s chest to where he had managed to heal him of the claw marks. The fact that he could sense his cold energy still lingering where the wounds had been sent his core into a rollercoaster of thrill and nearly insatiable attraction.

Fenton took advantage of the momentary distraction to angle his head deeper into the kiss and run the fingernails of one hand down the back of Phantom’s neck and spine, sending a whole new slew of nerves alight in his ghost. Phantom’s head swam, not from his concussion but from the electrifying realization that Fenton was not about to surrender in this fight to make the other melt to nothing in their arms.

The thought nearly sent him right then and there.

They were so close. Impossibly close. Their chests aligned perfectly, his core mirroring Fenton’s racing heart. Another stroke from his human’s tongue only filled him further with a buzzing heat that stole every coherent thought from his mind. Nothing else mattered except them and this moment. Spectra could’ve broken out and he wouldn’t care.

And yet he still wanted more.

So did Fenton, it seemed. As Phantom’s hands flew back down his human’s body and hooked themselves into the belt loops on his jeans, Fenton’s free hand pawed desperately at the zipper on his jumpsuit, pulling it down further and - 

BANG!

“- told you I’ll be there, alright? You should be thankful I can even take my lunch period to come get you! You know how many lunch detention shifts I had to take to convince Lancer to cover mine today?”

Both boys froze in horror as Coach Tetslaff’s voice echoed throughout the pool room. Phantom caught a flash of red and white rounding the corner, and in a panic, he flashed into invisibility, snatched Fenton’s waist, and pulled them straight up out of the water and all the way to the ceiling.

Fenton’s heart beat impossibly fast against his own chest as Tetslaff walked into the main area of the room, holding a cell phone up to her ear. “I wasn’t sayin’ it to make you feel guilty!” she huffed. “I was just - wait, hang on a sec.”

Phantom’s core seized as he watched her look at the still-rippling water with a mix of suspicion and exasperation. “Alright,” she shouted, lowering the phone just slightly. “Who’s here? Don’t think I don’t know about that skinny dippin’ dare goin’ round!”

If he hadn’t just narrowly avoided being seen making out with Fenton at 5:30 in the morning in the very much off-limits pool, he would’ve laughed at the idea of a skinny dipping dare. A town full of kids with jacked-up senses of risk thanks to ghosts, and that’s the best they can come up with?

As funny as he found it, he didn’t dare move a muscle. Judging by the tension he could feel in Fenton’s body, he must’ve had the same train of thought. 

Slowly, still watching the pool carefully, Tetslaff brought the phone back up to her ear. “What? Naw, sorry, just some dumb kids screwin’ around and askin’ to get suspended!” she said, directing the last part out towards the room as a whole. 

Phantom clutched at Fenton tighter when she suddenly looked up, straight at them. He realized in horror that though they were still invisible, they were both still dripping wet, emphasis on the dripping. Drops of water slid off their bodies and plinked into the pool below. Of course she would notice something like that.

For an agonizing, long few seconds, they floated there, not even daring to breathe as she squinted up at them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she shook her head. “Damn leaky roof,” she muttered. “My team gets first at state for four years runnin’ and they can’t even give me a decent roof.”

She stalked off towards the locker room doors, apparently still determined to find her ‘skinny dippers.’ “Whaddaya mean they’re givin’ me a woof? Roof, I said roof.” She pushed open the girls’ locker room door. “I swear I’m gettin’ you hearin’ aids for Christmas.”

Her voice faded away as the door shut behind her. Only when he couldn’t hear it any longer did Phantom let up on the invisibility. Adrenaline hit him like a wave and made his head hurt all over again.

Fenton, however, grinned in exhilaration. “Holy shit,” he whispered with a nervous giggle. “I didn’t even know she got here this early!”

Phantom didn’t tear his eyes away from the locker room door. Ancients help him if he let up his guard and ended up getting themselves caught. He shuddered to think of the scandal. And trying to explain the whole thing to their family. Why Fenton found the whole thing funny, he had no idea.

Speaking of the human, the hairs on the back of Phantom’s neck prickled as he felt his eyes on him. He looked to see Fenton wearing a stupid grin with an eyebrow raised. “What’s that look for?”

Fenton’s smile broadened. “Wanna pick up where we left off?” he asked with a playful lilt.

“Seriously? After that? When you know she’ll be coming back here?”

“Not here, you idiot,” Fenton said with a roll of his eyes. “There’s still plenty of time before school starts. More than enough to go back home and finish what you started.” He tapped a finger against Phantom’s lips.

Phantom only frowned. “You seriously can’t still be turned on right now,” he said around the human’s finger.

Fenton shrugged. “What can I say?” His pupils dilated as he traced a finger down the little sliver of Phantom’s exposed chest. “Something about the thrill of it.”

Phantom swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the tingle left in the wake of the human’s finger. “I wouldn’t exactly call us nearly getting caught thrilling. And will you stop that?”

“Aw, come on! Live a little!” Fenton’s goofy grin returned, still with half-lidded eyes, and he planted a peck on the ghost’s cheek.

“I’m a ghost. By definition, I don’t live.”

“... You’re no fun.”

“Hmm.” Phantom’s lips quirked up into a smile, and he leaned in to place a tender, feather-light kiss on his human’s lips. “Too bad you’re stuck with me then.”

Despite the kiss, Fenton still pouted. “You know if we don’t go back home, you might as well just leave me here. And then you won’t get to see me till after school. Or later. Maybe I’ll get detention on purpose just to mess with you.”

“... Alright, alright, we’re going.”

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fall 2023 Anime Overview: Pluto and Scott Pilgrim Takes Off

Pluto

Premise: Somebody- or something- is killing the most advanced robots in the world, along with humans involved with robots (either robot rights activists or scientists). Gesicht, a robot police detective, is trying to track this killer down. But has the detective himself been compromised? What is going on with these strange memories that keep appearing in his head?

Based on an arc in Osamu Tezuka's Astro Boy, this anime is a tense, tightly plotted robot murder mystery that kept me engrossed and invested. Stuff that deals with "android" rights can often feel cringey at best and insulting at worst, but Pluto avoids this by having a future where robots have already gotten their civil rights. It instead largely uses robots as a metaphor for being seen as a disposable tool in a corrupt system, for how if you resist being a weapon for violence and imperialism, those in power will either discard you or fear you. And it asks the question--can robots feel human emotions like hatred? What happens when they do?

Speaking of imperialism, there are some very obvious allusions to the Iraq War in this and I mean obvious like the "United States of Thracia" stars a war with the "Kingdom of Persia" under the pretense of finding "robots of mass destruction". The anime is deeply sympathetic to the, uh, Kingdom of Persia (and very accurate about how much the United States of "Thracia's" government sucks and is imperialistic), but it does feature content that can be tough to deal with (especially right now), and does have some Middle Eastern antagonists, though they're not one-dimensional . I don't feel qualified to dig into it too deeply, but I just have to note it. 

Pluto is impressive with it's sizable cast that all have their own distinct stories. It makes you feel for almost every character. A lot of the plot twists punch you in the gut, and the animation is generally stunning. I

I did find parts of the final episode fell flat. It was a solid finale, but the world-ending stakes and the focus on pretty predictable action beats were so different than the gripping, investigative stuff that came before it that it was a bit of a let down. And it really beat you over the head by constantly verbally repeating the central message.

 (I also hate the trope of a male character lying to a female character about information she's begging for and affects her deeply, and it being treated as a great kindness. I wish female characters got more to do overall in this, because the two we had were potentially very interesting. It did give a nod to the female robots being just as advanced at the male ones but that being ignored because they weren't advanced in a traditionally masculine way. But you could feel it's Astro Boy roots in how male dominated the cast was.)

Overall, this is one of the most well-crafted anime of the last few years-- a psychological thriller and meditation on humanity and conflict, rich with story and themes, with not a second wasted. I definitely recommend giving it a shot, you'll probably be hooked in no time. And expect it to break your heart. A lot.

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off

Yes, this counts as an anime. It was animated by a Japanese studio, the director is based in Japan and has worked in anime for years. But there are some spoilers in the premise itself here, so I'm going to put it under the cut.

You have been warned!

Premise: Scott Pilgrim meets a cool girl named Ramona Flowers and falls for her, only to find out she has seven evil exes he must defeat. Unfortunately, he seemingly dies at the hands of the first one. This leads Ramona on a journey where she must confront her evil exes and see if Scott is really dead after all.

So, I was a fan of Scott Pilgrim as a teen. Moreso of the comic than the movie, since the movie didn't have the interesting arcs for the female characters the comic did thanks to it's short runtime and what it prioritized. (Ramona, especially, was done dirty). I liked Ramona a lot in the comic, especially how she went from a mysterious figure to someone just as messy and screwed up as Scott is, and the "final boss" was actually the abusive relationship she was stuck in, and she was the one who really had to defeat it. I liked how Knives outgrew Scott, and I liked how Kim exposed Scott's fantasies as not real, and let her crush on him go. I liked how Scott's arc was realizing he'd treated the women in his life badly and that he needed to grow up and stop being so selfish. 

So I was a little excited to see a more comic-accurate version... but what we got was even better. A story that was more from Ramona's perspective, that centered her from the very beginning, and which focused on her understanding, and often reconciling with her exes, rather than them being enemies to defeat. I especially loved seeing Roxie finally get her due. (The comic handled Roxie better than the movie's bullshit, but it still left a lot to be desired). Ramona's ex-girlfriend finally gets treated as an ex-girlfriend, with no "just a phase" bs from Ramona and no Scott doing the straight guy "ooh lesbians so sexy" bs. Instead, it's a sincere, emotional look at their relationship and the ways Ramona hurt Roxie, along with a killer fight scene. 

It was also great to see Knives thriving without Scott around, and Matthew Patel getting more of a spotlight. The series has grown up over the years ,but the themes are as sharp as ever. It examines the bad decisions Ramona and Scott have made, and not only the fear of growing up as a young adult, but the fear of what you'll grow into. It explores the fear that relationships will become regrets, the messiness of people trying to connect, and how you need to keep trying to communicate and move forward and take risks anyway.

There were a few things I wish we could have seen more of- like Kim and Envy. (And small yet bothersome nitpick, I also disliked how when Ramona talked about her pattern of "running away" from relationships, Gideon was included, despite the fact he was abusive to her in this version too). The English voice cast was also weak with the voice acting sometimes (likely because most of them were more used to being on-screen actors)- though there were some stand out performances like Satya Bahba (Matthew Patel), Michael Cera (Scott) and of course Mae Whitman (Roxy) (I also think Winstead settled into her role well too)-- though I got used to it after a while, and the Japanese cast is aces.

The animation was also phenomenal, and it had a killer soundtrack.

I'm not sure how this anime would hit if you haven't seen either the comic or the movie, (I've heard some newbies say they liked it) but as a fan of the source material, I was very pleased and found it a treat. Definitely worth checking out.

[meimi-haneoka]

What are your top 10 favorite scenes in Clear Card manga? (Not counting the anime because it hasn't been finished yet)

Aaaahhh nice question! 🤭 Thank you so much for sending me this ask, since now that the main story is over, with a cool mind, it gave me the opportunity to think about the scenes I loved the most.

It is actually quite hard for me to choose, because there are so many good scenes, and it somehow feels also "unfair" to make a ranking, but I will try to answer with my CURRENT top 10, which is highly depending on my current inclinations and preferences. 😊 (under the cut, with explanations and analysis for each scene)

10. Chapter 1, "We'll be together forever"

I'm not placing this here because it's my least favorite, not at all, but because after more than 7 years, its power to evoke emotions in me has been supplanted by other scenes. 😅 I dunno how to explain it but, while it stays one of the most important and nostalgic scenes in this series, so much more happened in this arc that I feel "in a stronger way" than this scene. Still, it's in my top 10 because I was highly emotional when I've seen it in chapter 1.

9. Chapter 22, "Same goes for you, Syaoran-kun"

Ooooh, this was such a satisfactory moment, I still remember it. Till that moment, Sakura never gave out any hint that she had started to notice that Syaoran had been hiding something from her. This was portrayed differently in the anime, because Sakura confides her doubt with Meiling way before this scene happened in episode 21, but in the manga it was such a "wow" moment for me, because we had been screaming in our heads "how is it possible that Sakura is so oblivious that she doesn't notice anything", but no, she actually had already noticed, it's just that she wanted to take all of us by surprise, Syaoran included! And she was waiting patiently for him to talk to her. I also liked the way she phrased this, because it might be interpreted as slightly slightly calling him out while telling him "please open up to me" with love. Which is exactly what also will happen with another couple later on.

8. Chapter 33, Sakura hugs Syaoran with a resolute face

Another moment that made me scream "QUEEN!!" was this one. Oooh, how much I loved Sakura in this specific panel. Syaoran is prevented from warning her about Kaito and what he knows about him, so he desperately tries to convey to her with that crushing hug that no matter what happens, he's going to protect her. But since Sakura had just found out the truth about the Clear Cards and felt the frustration of not having understood it earlier, causing her loved one to put himself into a dangerous position, her resolute face here always conveyed to me her desire to be more "in touch" with herself, finally "waking up" and do her part to protect Syaoran in turn. That little hand gripping Syaoran's shirt tightly is everything to me. It's so rare to see Sakura depicted with such strong and complex feelings.

7. Chapter 41/42, Syaoran and Kaito's fight

One of my favorite scenes, no doubt. You have no idea how much I'm anticipating to see this scene in the anime. It's not only because my two favorite boys are basically arguing over who's more "I'll save/protect my most important person no matter what" (even if one of them hasn't figured it out yet), but it's also because we have a pretty violent Syaoran here...he attacked Kaito behind his back with a freaking lightning, without notice or anything else, and that made me go "wow Syaoran, you must be quite mad if you're not caring about fair play in this confrontation" 😂 And it's also pretty uncharacteristic of Kaito to be taken by suprise by someone....but this is just because Nadeshiko had distracted him with a topic that really dug deep in his core.

6. Chapter 31, "I'm also mad at you, Syaoran-kun"

And of course, this is another main scene that I can't wait to see animated and that really left an impact on me. I realize that my favorite scenes are those where the characters do something you wouldn't expect from them basing on what's been portrayed of them till that moment. And I think hearing Sakura say "I'm also mad at you, Syaoran-kun" had a major impact on me. And felt very satisfactory. Of course I knew that Sakura would've never lashed out at Syaoran when she would've found out about the Sakura Cards, about lying and omitting things to her...Sakura knows that her Syaoran would never reach such lengths if it weren't for her safety. But still, he didn't fully consider the consequences of his actions, which could've been so much worse than what we've seen, and I think in that moment Sakura fully realized all of that, and it's inevitable that the pain turned also into anger because "how can you be so blind to not realize that you would've killed me if something happened to you?". Sakura's calm and composed anger and pain is very much in character for her, but also something we yet had to see till that moment, so it felt really refreshing. I also remember her next sentence, "Even if it would've made you uncomfortable, I would've cried and cried forever". It's as if she was telling him "in front of something of such gravity, I need to take notice of my own feelings and express them. I WILL react in this way, even if I know that I will make you feel bad about it." It's claiming the right to be angry when your loved one messes up big time with you. (lord, the parallels!) And Syaoran's hug to her head, not even allowing himself to hug her body, felt very humble and respectful from his part, in my opinion. He absolutely felt the need to apologize and comfort her, but not invading her space and comfortable zone too much.

5. Chapter 52, "But you look like you're in pain"

Chapter 52 was a "parallels fest" beginning to end, and more than a scene, I'd daresay I place the entire chapter in this position of the ranking. It was very nice to see, for once, a parallelism between Akiho and Syaoran, rather than the usual Akiho and Sakura. I think CLAMP took care in depicting this scene because they wanted to make sure that the readers understood that, despite being under a "synchronization", the feelings Sakura and Akiho have for their loved ones are absolutely genuine, unique and personal to eachother. In short, Akiho doesn't act in a certain way towards Kaito because she's "mimicking" what Sakura does with Syaoran. If there's one thing in CLAMP manga that always eluded hitsuzen, plotting, scheming, even premonitions, are the feelings the characters have for their important people, and it's not something specific to CCS. Not even magic can change the feelings someone got for someone else, just as magic alone cannot make someone fall in love with someone else. It's always coming from the heart. And so, in this scene we see two kids deeply worried for their loved ones, who look in pain, and CLAMP have shown to us how their situations, although paralleling, had two very different outcomes, not because the feelings at the base were different, but because their circumstances were different. In the Akiho/Kaito half, I was absolutely heartbroken by Kaito's reaction, dictated by fear and isolation. But I was also in awe at Akiho's strength of mind, the way she kept insisting for Kaito to open up to her because she just could feel that something wasn't right, it hadn't been for a while at this point, and the fear to lose him made her stronger and more incisive than ever. Alas, Kaito's stubborness at this point of the story is basically playing a tug of war with her (a game Akiho has no intention to lose), so he had that reaction of running away and shutting the door in her face, another thing I found extremely uncharacteristic of him, because he had always been so respectful and diligent in his "role of the butler". With the progression of the story, this reaction became so much more clear and coherent with his state of mind. To this day, this chapter is so dear to me because of the strong and complex emotions depicted in it (even though at the time it hurt so much).

4. Chapter 80, "Cristaux. That's my true name"

Well yes, it might be because it's just fresh in my mind, or because it was, in a way, the end of the tribulations for me to see this guy finally realizing what Akiho is to him, but I feel this scene in my core. The choice to reveal his true name to her, what it means in a CLAMP manga, the intimacy of the scene without actually depicting anything that any reader (who doesn't know CLAMP well) would consider "regular" for a romantic scene (so much that a good amount of people didn't understand what happened here), makes it so precious and special to me. When I've talked about this scene in the stories of my IG account, I used "Delicate" by Taylor Swift as a background song, because I really feel like CLAMP depicted Kaito's intentions in a very delicate way. Which is how it is supposed to be, how their relationship will develop and transform along the way. They need so much sensitivity, gentleness, time, tenderness, because they both have lots of scars they need to heal from. And just like in the song, Kaito is starting to acknowledge many things and he's moving a tiny step ahead in that direction, with this gesture that means so much (and Akiho is perfectly aware of what it entails). It's like "starting again" for them, this time from a foundation of honesty and trust. Slowly, slowly healing and building their bond back up. It's the evidence that when your heart is in the right place, there's always a second chance and Kaito showed here that he doesn't want to waste it.

3. Chapter 78, Akiho and Kaito's reunion

Well. OF COURSE this would be in my top 3! I cried so much!! 🥲 The emotional tension, Akiho's anger, Kaito's silence that suggested how stunned he was, finally realizing things that we waited for the whole manga for him to see... I think the one aspect that struck me the hardest in this scene was imagining to be in Akiho's shoes in that moment, and feeling all that love and anger pouring out of her, without even fully understanding where those feelings came from, because she still didn't remember anything about him. Like, you have someone in front of you, your heart knows it's the person you love, and yet you can't remember anything about them, not even their name. But you still feel this storm of feelings pouring out of you. So powerful. As powerful was Akiho's assertiveness when she rebuked Kaito not only for deciding her happiness on her behalf, without asking her absolutely anything, but most importantly because he dared to remove himself from her life, thinking "she doesn't need me to be happy, after all", when he was so so so wrong. And in doing that, he committed another horrible thing, he literally threw himself away in the process, like something of no value. I think more than anything else, this was what hurt Akiho the most. And we always go back to that parallelism of chapter 31, how these boys, in their fever of protecting their most important person, completely forget/don't see how fundamental THEY are to that person's happiness. Out of this whole reunion, another scene I love is when Akiho kinda "pulls" Kaito back to her, pressuring him to go along with Sakura's plan to revert him back to his true appearance (from that of a dragon). You can see that his self-loathing makes him hesitate, and resist that plan till the last second, but when he exchanges that long stare with Akiho, he finally caves in. Her hard stare, which shows already the irritation and pain that will overflow afterwards, makes him feel "wanted", necessary to someone. Just for being himself, not because of his powers, like it had been till he met her. That's another moment of this scene that I love deeply.

2. Chapter 48, "The moon is beautiful"

Yeah I'm sorry, I've been debating whether this scene would go to n. 1 or not, then decided otherwise, but I can't lie to myself: the scene that impacted me the most in this entire manga, the one that changed me, is this one. Akiho's covert love confession under the full moon. And until someone explained to me what Akiho actually meant with that "because the moon is really beautiful", I had considered this just a very sweet and cute scene, but nothing more. When someone gave me the correct "reading key" (and it's absolutely intentional because Akiho's speech is placed between quote marks), something changed inside of me towards these two. I already liked them, Akiho in particular, but this scene confirmed to me that Akiho was serious in wanting to grasp her life tightly and change it. From a shy, insecure girl needing validation at every sentence, crushed by the trauma of the past, to someone who actually made the first, concrete steps in conveying her thoughts and feelings to the person most important to her. From stillness, to action. The first steps towards finding her voice, and letting it be heard, louder and louder, throughout the story. This is a very important turning point, as you can literally see her changing, after this scene. Even in this metaphorical way, it must have required for Akiho to muster all of her courage to confess her feelings. Did Kaito understand what she meant, here? To this day, I don't think he did. Otherwise, he wouldn't have said such a foolish thing like "I didn't think you needed me to be happy" in ch. 78. But he still wanted to spend time with her, he was visibly glad to receive that "invitation" from her, even though he never let that transpire from his words, his reply is a line carefully built in Japanese to address what Akiho wanted, not what he wanted. Cause he couldn't allow himself to want anything, aside from that one wish, knowing very well how this would've ended. Chapter 48 and 49 were giving us everything we needed to know to determine not only Akiho's feelings towards Kaito, but also his own feelings for her. It's very clear by the way they look at eachother in their scenes of these two chapters. And yet, the smell of "doom" was looming over them (so much that at the time I thought this would be their last conversation before everything went down the drain; fortunately it wasn't), so this "duality" created the perfect mix to get me definitively invested in these two.

1. Chapter 79, "I can't be on everyone's side"

I chose this scene for the 1st position because I absolutely adored the revolutionary and strong message that Sakura passed in the very culmination of the climax. I felt we really needed it. More than once I had feared, throughout the serialization, that CLAMP would've shown Sakura trying to "befriend" or "compromise" with the Squids & Association, when the "moment of the truth" would've come. Because of the apparent "dogma" that "Sakura is everyone's friend, no one is evil in Sakura's world, Sakura is such a good girl".

But what they had already shown about Akiho's clan and the Association ABSOLUTELY couldn't be justified or compromised with. CLAMP had already shown too much cruelty from them, there couldn't be any "redeeming arc" or anything like that, that wouldn't result in being offensive to the sensitivity and intelligence of the readers. Sometimes it happens that you just can't compromise with cruel people guided only by greed. You shouldn't. Especially if they abused other people ever since they were so little.

In this specific scene, CLAMP have put Sakura in front of a choice, but not only that: they also made her question her own morality. How I adored that! Sakura does realize that what she's about to do might not be good from a moral standpoint, forcing people to forget about something without their consent. Exactly what Kaito did before. But she doesn't care. This is something different, and the difference lies in the intentions. While Kaito acted out of love, those other people were clearly trying to harm her friends. Because of this, she spells out clearly that she can't be on everyone's side. Because at some point a choice needs to be made, and she chose Akiho and Kaito. This scene right here is, perhaps, the one that answers the question that I know many people made themselves throughout the story, and after it was over: did we need Akiho and Kaito in Cardcaptor Sakura?

Yes, we did.

Because they brought Sakura to this moment, and they pushed her to make this decision. The decision to choose her loved ones' happiness over anything else, even her own morality, particularly when cruel intentions were involved towards people with a background much less happier and ideal than hers'. The decision to go on along with them, rather than trying to go back to how things were before. The decision to do whatever in her power to protect them. A series of decisions that brought her an enormous character development. This thematic of "going on" rather than "going back" was so strong in Tsubasa too, and it's not a coincidence that everyone could feel a strong connection to that other CLAMP work, in the final 2 chapters (and not only because of the cameos).

I think this scene defined and changed CCS forever (for the better, in my opinion). I feel like the essence of Clear Card is all here. This feeling of "everything we went through was for this moment" is so strong that made me designate it as my n. 1 scene!✨

[extra-stout-stories]

Werewolf / Sweater Weather

On a secluded rural homestead, a man brings a meal home for his mate. Reblog if you like werewolf romance. (BHM, SSBBW, romantic, non-explicit. CW: Wolf-on-stag violence.)

April 2024: I'm moving my old stories here to centralize likes/reblogs and delete my defunct account. This one was written for Day 15 of fatguarddog's Feedist Kinktober '23 prompts.

Edit, October 2024: There's a sequel!

--

She stands in the doorway, a mug of steaming hot cider in her hand. "I can't believe you're grilling outside at this time of year."

"Why not? Look at that beautiful blue sky."

"But it's chilly!"

"Come warm me up, then."

She smiles. "Okay."

She steps out onto the deck, moving slowly towards him. Her thick wool sweater, new this season, fits just slightly loosely, but her jeans are snug over the bottom half of her belly, which quivers most of the way down her thighs. He cocks his head towards her, a smile on his face, and watches as she moves behind him to wrap her arms around his waist. He's easily a foot taller than her, and so her belly is pressed against the backs of his thighs as she stretches her pillowy arms around his love handles, not quite able to reach all the way around his own ample belly.

"I can't believe you're wearing a t-shirt out here." She slips her hands underneath the shirt to grip and heft the sides of his belly hang. Squeezing him tightly, pressing her belly against him, she can feel a hint of the muscle beneath his soft, thick rolls of chub. She slides her hands under his belly. "My poor fingers are so cold. Can I leave them here?"

He laughs and flips a cut of meat on the grill. "Okay. But don't distract me. I've gotta treat this meal with respect. A living creature gave its life so we could eat tonight."

"Mmmm." She snuggles her head in against his back, feeling the warmth of him against her fat cheeks. She sinks her fingertips into his thighs, feeling the powerful muscle underneath the fat. He laughs again. "That new sweater looks cute on you. I don't know why you're so chilly. Not when you're even better insulated than I am."

"Am I, though?" Her hands slide out from under his hang to trace the enormous arc of his belly beneath the shirt. She runs her fingers through the thick dark hair on his belly, then looks up at his face, his long dark hair cheerfully dishevelled, a few days' stubble somehow giving definition both to his strong jaw and the thick double chins that ring it. Their eyes meet and he smiles back at her. She sighs, closes her eyes, and pulls in tighter.

--

A tidy little homestead. Rows of vegetables mostly empty and gathered in now, a few gourds and beans still fattening on the vines for the last few weeks of autumn.

A meadow, a thicket of underbrush, a pathway into the forest.

His senses shift, becoming sharper and keener. He drops lower to the ground. His body changes. His motion quickens.

The prey is already in his nostrils as he moves through the darkness, leaping swiftly across a stream and darting through fallen leaves to follow the trail of scent. In a clearing his eyes catch sight for the first time: a stag, moonlight glistening off his antlers. Powerful in his own way. A king, and prey for a king.

The chase is long and difficult. Twice he nearly breaks his neck on a steep scree of rocks, the stag leaping effortlessly ahead of him, almost mocking.

He can already taste the flesh on his tongue. The thought would drive him mad if he weren't a creature of cunning as well as instinct. The stag seems to leap from a cliff before scrambling down a crevasse as he pursues. Here in the deep darkness, even the moonlight blocked by tall evergreens, an early frost has begun to form in the underbrush. He pauses. The moment lasts an eternity.

There. A slight crackle, almost indistinguishable from the rustle of leaves. All instinct now, he leaps. Before the stag can react, his jaws are deep in its neck. Hot blood flows across his muzzle, dripping onto the frost. The stag sinks to the ground.

A clean kill. You fought well, he thinks. Thank you. He is suddenly aware of his fatigue, of how long the chase through the cold woods has lasted.

Fangs become teeth, claws become hands. Grunting, he hoists the carcass across his back and sets back up the crevasse, moving slowly and cautiously now as he passes through the darkness of the forest.

A thicket, a meadow, then rows of garden. A small stone house and a full moon in the starlit sky above it.

She's already asleep. His senses still adjusted to the darkness, he cleans and dresses the kill without turning on the lights. This will keep us fat and happy all winter.

He towels himself clean with cold water and slides into bed next to her, his belly against her back, his arms as far as he can reach them around her belly. He stretches and yawns, placing a hand just beside her navel. She stirs in her sleep and nestles her head against his chest. His muscles, tense from the hunt, relax.

--

Sometimes it's like she can read his mind. She opens her eyes. Up in the bright sky she can see the afternoon moon, as fat and round as she is, just a thumbnail smaller than it was last night.

He flips a cut of meat one last time. Crisp on the outside, tender within. "Perfect. I've done it justice."

"Good. I'm hungry. The pies have been cooling on the counter all morning and I was starting to worry I'd end up eating your dessert for you." She hefts his belly. "And that would be a shame. You were out late last night burning calories, weren't you?"

He nods. "I was. You made the pumpkin, right?"

"Pumpkin and the apple. And there's a squash casserole with plenty of butter. And mashed potatoes. Fried potatoes, too. Come on in and drink some of the cider while I set the table. I put some of the good whiskey in it."

"That's my girl." He smiles, flips another cut of meat onto a tray, and reaches around to squeeze her. She laughs as his powerful fingers sink into the soft fat where her belly meets her thigh.

"So what have you been cooking out here?" she asks.

He smiles. "Venison."

[kaesaaurelia]

pop quiz!

For @whumptober day 8, using the prompts “outnumbered,” “it's all for nothing," and the song prompt ("All These Things That I've Done" by The Killers).

Continued from Day 5, wherein Aziraphale returns to Earth, hoping some allies he's contacted will be able to help him, has a big fight with some archangels, and is horribly injured leaping in front of Crowley, who wasn't supposed to be there.

(Crowley's prior experience with Cerviel is something I wrote about in an ark of acacia wood in 2019, but you don't need to have read that.)

He could hear Crowley swearing and scrambling to get out of the passenger side door -- had he been hit? Aziraphale couldn't let any of this happen, but it already had, and oh, he was so stupid, so utterly stupid. At least they would die together, though he would have preferred if Crowley had lived, at least. He would have preferred if they both had lived. He wanted to see Crowley's eyes again, and tell Crowley how much he loved him, and to kiss him, and now he would never get to do any of that.

Crowley was shouting and Michael was closing in, now wielding her sword.  The only thought left in Aziraphale's mind was that he must do everything he could to incapacitate her or she might kill Crowley. He pushed himself forward along the spear, enduring the agony of it to lunge towards Michael, and with the last of his strength he grabbed her wrist and shoved the sword away from Crowley.  (Away from him, he would later realize; she hadn't actually been trying to get at Crowley at all.  Aziraphale was not sure he would have been able to muster the strength to save only himself.)  It cut a wide arc through the air in front of him, and though he was in great pain from the spear, the sword had miraculously missed him.

There was a brief, undignified struggle for the sword, but Aziraphale's complete lack of self-preservation and the borrowed strength of his Supreme Archangel's title won out in the end and he managed to grab the hilt before the sword fell out of Michael's grasp. Aziraphale swung wildly, trying more to keep his balance than to hurt Michael, but he sliced a streak of red upwards across her cheek.

"No!" she shouted and sank to her knees, feeling the wound, looking for all the world like some doom was upon her.

Aziraphale gripped the sword tightly and looked around for Crowley. His knees were giving out, but that was all right, actually, because the spear was supporting him, keeping him painfully upright.  He saw Crowley coming around the car now, and he wondered if perhaps he would have a chance to say goodbye after all.

"Oh god," said Crowley, forgetting himself for a moment, forgetting that he didn't swear to God, and Aziraphale had to smile. "Aziraphale. Fuck. We have to get you out of here," he said, putting an arm around Aziraphale so he could support him.

"Not so fast," said Uriel, and Crowley turned and hissed at her, as if that would help. He was such a dear, and Aziraphale hoped desperately that he would survive. "Looks like it will be me after all," they said, closing in on the two of them, their own sword drawn. Michael was clutching her face, but she was still alive, he thought, wasn't she? It wasn't even that bad of a wound.

"Angel, I'm sssorry, I -- I don't think I should pull the sssspear out, but," said Crowley, frantic and hissing and not paying nearly enough attention to Uriel.

Aziraphale forced himself to concentrate, forced his remaining blood into his brain so he could speak. "There's a book in my inside pocket," he whispered to Crowley. "Take it and run."

"I don't care about booksss, I care about you," Crowley snarled, and he was so angry, only he didn't understand, and Aziraphale wished he could explain it all.

"Please," said Aziraphale, "it's not -- it's --" He couldn't find words anymore, and after a moment of struggle, he gave up on consciousness.

--

"Back away and I might let you live, serpent," said Uriel.

Crowley had been panicking, but their threat gave him a sort of light-headed clarity: if Aziraphale died, Crowley did not give a single shit what happened to him anymore.  He knew he ought to, but he hadn't done what he ought to for a long time and he certainly wasn't starting now.

"Fuck off," he said, planting himself firmly in front of Aziraphale. "You don't ssscare me."

"Then why are you hissssing?" Uriel asked, with a sideways smile.

Crowley opened his mouth to say something very clever and found he had nothing.

"Are you still dealing with this idiot?" the Metatron said, staggering. "Just stab him and be done with it. Michael, I'm very disappointed in your performance today," he said to the other archangel, who was still on her knees on the ground, apparently in shock. This statement caused her to make the sort of growling sound he'd never heard come from a human throat before and dive towards the Metatron like a furious animal.  But the Metatron kicked her aside easily, as if she was not the Archangel Michael, as if she was not only not a threat, but not even a person. "Handle her, Uriel," he said, and as Uriel turned towards Michael, she struggled to her feet and fled. Had one little scratch with a sword really lost her all her standing?

"Crowley," said the Metatron. "Come now. We both know you're not brave. Stand aside."

Crowley did know that about himself, but he did not care. "Doessn't change the fact that I'm not moving. Go to Heaven."

"Oh, please," said the Metatron, rolling his eyes. "He must not be that important to you. If he was, you would have taken Heaven's offer.  Let us deal with our own internal discord and we'll pretend we didn't see you here."

Crowley gritted his teeth against the guilt. These mind games were so stupid when Aziraphale was behind him, bleeding out, and he wished he could sink fangs into the Metatron and watch him succumb to the agony of death by venom. 

He was gathering his thoughts for either something withering to say to the Metatron or a really stupid attempt to incapacitate him or maybe just a desperate, weak punch, when he heard an odd noise coming closer. Someone was running towards them, and when he turned to look at the newcomer, Crowley was very surprised to see who it was; he could not have guessed it in a million years, because he hadn't seen the fucker for -- well, all right, not a million years, but it had been several millennia.

The last time Crowley had encountered Cerviel, the angel had been serving as the Power of Jerusalem and he and Aziraphale and Dagon and Crowley had been involved in a very stupid scuffle over where the Ark of the Covenant was.  In the ensuing chaos Cerviel had apparently discorporated Aziraphale with his spear by accident while trying to deal with Crowley, and Crowley had taken offense to this, turned into a snake, and discorporated him right back by crushing him to death.  (Aziraphale had got better, although Crowley hadn't found out about that until about a decade later.)

Now Aziraphale had been speared on purpose, and he wasn't going to get better, and Cerviel, for some perplexing fucking reason, had come all the way from New York City just to murder Crowley while the Metatron watched, and it was all a horrible, nonsensical palindrome. Crowley had never expected the end of his life to be at the hands of some random Power, but there was nothing much he could do about it now except try to keep his dignity, so he gave Cerviel his least-impressed sneer.  "What do you want?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Cerviel said. "You can't just drive through a bunch of pedestrians like that."

This was a confusing note to start his imminent destruction on, and when Crowley hazarded a glance at the Metatron, he seemed just as confused.   It was a nice change of pace, at least.  He had to give Cerviel that.

"And you!" Cerviel said, rounding on the Metatron.  "Hold him up, I need the spear," he told Crowley, nodding at Aziraphale, and something in Crowley decided that he might as well, so he did.  Cerviel wrenched the spear free and pointed it at the Metatron, who looked very affronted, and Crowley guided Aziraphale gently to the ground to lean against one of the Bentley's front wheels.  He pressed his hands over the horrible wound in Aziraphale's chest to keep the blood in, because humans always seemed to do that in films, but he didn't know if it was helping, or if he dared use his demonic power to heal an angel on the verge of discorporation.  Aziraphale's breathing was weak and shuddering, and even though Crowley knew Aziraphale's body was only breathing for him out of habit, the fact that it was having such trouble doing so was concerning.

"Are you working with demons, Cerviel?" said the Metatron.  "Really?"

"Don't you even fucking start with me, asshole," said Cerviel.  "You've screwed me over so many times and I am sick of it.  And so are the rest of us."

This sounded like it was going to be a whole conversation, and Crowley decided he might as well at least get Aziraphale into the car.  Maybe he could somehow sneak away from the angelic confrontation.  In a large black vintage car that was right next to them.

As he was dragging Aziraphale into the car -- Aziraphale and the stupid sword he'd got from Michael, because he had a death grip on the thing -- it occurred to him that actually, probably this had something to do with the phone call he'd got earlier today, letting him know Aziraphale was likely to be returning to Earth.  It had been from Muriel at the bookshop, but they'd mentioned something about several Principalities being about, and they'd also said Crowley ought to be careful and come right to the bookshop without trying to rescue Aziraphale.  So perhaps Cerviel was on Aziraphale's side?

(Crowley hadn't done what he ought to in a very, very long time, and he loved Aziraphale too much not to rush to him like a fool.)

Aziraphale took a deep, wheezing breath.  "Crowley?" he asked, so quietly Crowley could barely hear him over Cerviel's enumerations of the indignities he had suffered at Heaven's hands.  "You --"  His chest rose and fell laboriously.  "...not supposed to be here."

"Well I am here," said Crowley, "sso that'ss jusst too bad, isn't it?"  He opened the back seat of the Bentley.

"...bleed all over your car," said Aziraphale, sounding like he was about to wink out of existence at any moment.

"Oh, it's not our car anymore?"  His tone was harsh but he was as gentle as possible moving Aziraphale into the backseat.  "Did I get it in the divorce?"  Aziraphale didn't look dismayed so much as confused, and Crowley couldn't tell if it was because he didn't know what divorce Crowley was talking about or because he hadn't quite heard what Crowley had said.

"Can I -- your face," said Aziraphale, haltingly, reaching down to squeeze his hand with the hand that wasn't clutching the sword.  "I want to see..."

"I'm right here, you can see my face perfectly well," said Crowley, irritably.

"Your eyes," said Aziraphale, sounding more alive than he had for the past few minutes.

Crowley found that he was tearing up, and the last thing he wanted to do was show anyone that.  But.  Ugh.  Fine.  He took off his sunglasses.  "There.  Are you happy?"  He tried to ignore the tears rolling down his cheeks, because they were ruining his whole aesthetic.

Aziraphale beamed.  "So happy," he said.  There was a lump in Crowley's throat and he didn't trust himself to speak, so he just... sort of propped Aziraphale up against the seat back and pretended the Bentley had always had seatbelts -- special ones with cushioning to keep from aggravating large chest wounds.  He shut the door and hurried to get back into the car on the driver's side, passing his hand quickly over the gaping hole where Michael's spear had got stuck.  He loved this car, but he hated how easy it was to heal when he hadn't been able to do anything about Aziraphale.

As he started the car, Cerviel was accusing the Metatron of being a "wannabe Wizard of Oz fucker," so that was fun.  Crowley began backing away, but Cerviel stopped the car by the simple expediency of sticking one hand in the window and yanking it forward without even turning away from his argument, so that was very rude, but then Crowley began listening.  "...just one question for you, Mr. I Talk to God and You Don't," said Cerviel, gesturing slightly alarmingly with Michael's spear.  "Where's the Ark of the Covenant?"

The Metatron looked very bored.  "Ah, well, of course it's in an undisclosed location, but rest assured, it is very secure and --"

"No, you don't understand, this is a pop quiz," said Cerviel.  "Where is it?  You get one guess."

The Metatron hesitated for just a moment, and then sighed and said, "You've hidden it in the desert in --"

"Wrong!" said Cerviel, gleefully.

The Metatron's face became furious.  "Where have you hidden it?  Where is it, Cerviel?"

"Right now, I don't know," said Cerviel, shrugging, "but if it's important, I'll make a few calls and find out.  Anyway, good talking to you, don't follow us, and maybe just go to Hell.  It's not like you're not collaborating with them anyway."  He sidled around the Bentley and got into the front passenger seat before Crowley had quite realized what was happening, but Crowley supposed he wasn't about to be murdered, so he stepped on the gas, bowling over several Archangels in the process.

[cloneshipping7567]

Romantic Confessions Part 5

Part 5/30

5. "It's you. It's always been you."

Pairing: Waxer/Boil

Rating/WC: M/2322

Warnings: Umbara Arc, major injuries, background character deaths, deviation from canon.

~~~

Boil can't breathe. He just can't breathe. He has to shove he kriffing bucket off and let it fall to the force-forsaken ground of this hell planet, because his lungs refuse to cooperate and bring in air like they're supposed to.

He killed his brothers. Boil shot at and killed his own brothers, his blasts are what snubbed out the life of who knows how many 501st troopers.

He feels his knees give out as someone yells "This can't be happening. What have we done?" He vaguely recognizes that he isn't the only clone to crumble under the weight of what they've done.

Boil gasps violently, repeatedly, as his body fights to take in air. Who did Boil kill? Did he know them? Did he take out a friend? Friends?

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he almost fights back on instinct alone. But then he looks up and sees a trooper with blue paint and a red medic symbol on his gear. The bucket comes off, and an interesting lightening pattern shaved into the side of the medic's head distracts Boil long enough to get a breath in. "What's your name, trooper?" The medic asks softly.

"Boil," he manages to get out, choking on the single syllable. "I'm sorry," he gets out before the trooper can say something stupid, like how it wasn't Boil's fault. Wasn't his fault this medic lost members of his team, his brothers and friends.

"I'm Kix," the medic says, his expression grim. "Are you hurt?"

Yes. But, not in a way this medic can fix. Boil takes in another gasping breath, assessing himself quickly. "Not lethally," he finally answers.

Kix nods at him, patting his shoulder again. "Good man," he starts. Boil opens his mouth to argue, but the medic shakes his head once. "Think you can help me look for survivors? My COs are trying to figure out what happened, they usually help."

Boil nods quickly, and accepts the hand to help stand. He's surprised by how efficiently Kix was able to help Boil calm down enough to breathe. A simple task is all it took for the 212th scout to get refocused, how strange.

Boil goes after the clones who aren't moving first. A quick check of fingers to their neck, a hand on their chest to check for breathing. Nothing; he places their hands over their still chests to keep track of who he's already checked.

So many. There are so many. He loses count; doesn’t want to keep track. Can’t conceptualize how many clones were lost to bad intel leading to friendly fire.

"Captain," he hears Kix call, and looks up from the poor brother he was checking to watch. "I found the platoon leader. It's Waxer." Boil's heart stops, and he doesn't remember standing but he's already walking towards Kix. "He's still alive."

Rex nods gravely, and Kix starts to lead the way. Boil follows them, almost in a trance, to where they go.

He sees Waxer, being tended to by a 212th trooper as he lays against some tree-plant thing. His head is hung, and Boil worries for a second if Kix was wrong, if Waxer is dead, and-and-

His knees almost give out again at just the thought.

"Waxer..." Rex says, kneeling in front of the clone and removing his helmet. Boil does fall to his knees; he falls heavily, hand gripping at Waxer's arm tightly. Kix gives him a sad grimace, but everyone else ignores him.

Waxer lets out a groan of pain, and Boil subconsciously tightens his hold.

"Tell me who gave you the orders to attack us," Rex instructs.

Waxer fights for his breath even harder than Boil was earlier, and the thought of a blaster wound or broken ribs under Waxer's armor makes Boil want to scream. "It-" he cuts himself off with a pained gasp, head moving jerkily. "It was General Krell." He puts a hand on Rex's shoulder, the one not in Boil's death grip. "He sent us to these coordinates to stop the enemy..." He takes another gasping breath, and Boil looks frantically over to Kix.

Why isn't he doing anything? Why are they grilling Waxer about what happened; it doesn't matter who ordered this betrayal! Waxer is dying, and they only care about who's orders they were following!

"We thought they were wearing our armor," Waxer gets out, coughing once. Boil makes a desperate noise in the back of his throat, and Kix takes off his medic pack. "But...it was..." he gasps for air, and a tear falls down his cheek. Boil's own breathing starts to speed up, and he looks between Kix and Waxer desperately. "You."

Waxer hangs his head, his breath hitching in pain and horror both.

"Waxer," Boil whispers, face contorted in fear and pain. "Waxer!" He yells.

Rex steps back, a death glare set in stone. Kix takes his place, jamming a needle into Waxer's neck.

Waxer gasps in pain, eyes wide and jaw slack. But he's breathing and he's alert and alive.

"C'mon, Lieutenant, let's get you to the medical tent, yeah?" Kix says. "I can assess you better there."

Boil swallows thickly, finally allowing his shaking hands to release their death grip on Waxer's forearm. He moves his shoulder under Waxer's armpit, and nods at Kix once. Together they haul Waxer to his feet, Boil's hand coming to gently rest on Waxer's chest as the officer half-screams in pain.

"We have you, sir, we have you," Kix says, his right arm winding around Waxer's shoulder blades to help carry-drag him.

Boil uses his left arm to do the same thing, holding up around his waist but lower, under his ribs. "You'll be okay," Boil whispers, taking a small step forward and taking the others with him.

Waxer is practically heaving with the pain and effort of moving, jaw clenched so tightly that Boil is almost worried about his teeth breaking.

"You got this, Lieutenant, you can do it. The tent isn't that far away. One foot in front of the other." Kix keeps mumbling phrases like that as they march towards the tent, allowing Boil to set the pace.

"I'm fine," Waxer finally snaps through gritted teeth, practically seething. He hisses in air through his teeth, cheeks puffing out with each hasty exhale.

"You are," Boil agrees, increasing their pace just that much faster. He just wants Waxer to stop moving, wants him safe in a medical cot being looked over. He can't stand seeing him in so much pain, so close to dying. "So shut up and keep marching."

Kix raises a brow at the insubordination, but doesn't comment.

Waxer groans, leaning more heavily on Boil and Kix. "How much farther?" he barks some time later, and Boil notices that his breathing is growing more ragged and inconsistent.

"Not far," Kix says, his own breathing becoming heavier with exertion. "And when we get there I can give you a pain stim, and check you over. You'll be just fine. Just a bit longer, sir, you can make it."

"You will make it," Boil agrees, forcing himself to relax his grip so he doesn't crush Waxer. "It's just over there, can you see it?" Waxer looks up from where his chin was on his chest, eyes unfocused but dilated with adrenaline. "Just over there. Just a little longer."

Waxer grunts, and his own steps speed up. An end goal always motivates them; the last stretch is always easier.

They burst through the tent flaps, and Waxer practically gives up on helping them. Boil catches him heavily, and Kix leads them to an empty cot. Together, they're able to gently lower Waxer to the cot instead of letting him drop.

Boil kneels on the floor next to the cot, grabbing Waxer's forearm again and watching his face. Kix scurries off towards the back, barking orders to the other medics in the tent as he goes.

Waxer turns his head to look at Boil, panting shallowly. "Boil," he chokes out.

Boil squeezes gently. "You're fine," Boil says, his voice breaking. "Let me get you out of your armor, Kix will need to see."

Waxer nods once, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes to brace for the coming pain. "Make it quick," he breathes.

Boil unclasps the chest plate, pulling away the plastoid carefully. It still makes Waxer grunt in pain, but he ignores it. Boil carefully slides the piece off, leaving the back piece under Waxer. He doesn't see the point in putting Waxer through that just yet.

Boil's breath hitches at the sight; his chest is littered with blaster burns, his blacks scorched. "Where all does it hurt?" Boil manages to ask, voice shaking.

Waxer huffs an annoyed sound. "Everywhere."

Boil swallows thickly, unable to even roll his eyes. "Don't bite your tongue off," is his only warning, before he grabs the upper blacks and rips at it. He tears it in two, trying to jostle Waxer as little as he can.

Waxer still cries out once at a particularly long rip, eyes flying open in pain and shock.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Boil murmurs, pushing aside the tattered pieces. He almost stops breathing when he takes in the damage.

Waxer has one blast that went right through his chest, mere centimeters from his heart. Another blast scraped across his chest over his ribs, leaving burn marks. There are bruises everywhere, and Boil is almost curious where they came from; they aren't blaster shots.

"That bad?" Waxer asks, a pained smile attempting to overtake the grimace. Boil realizes his face is morphed in horror, and he tries to school it back into a neutral expression.

"No," Boil lies. "You'll be fine. It's-it's not even that bad."

Waxer huffs a laugh, and the movement makes the blaster wound jostle so he follows it with a whimper of pain. "You're...you're such a bad liar," Waxer manages to grit out.

Boil opens his mouth to retort, but Kix shows up then. He immediately jabs needle in Waxer's neck again. Waxer hisses, but then his eye glaze over and he lets out a relieved sigh. "Pain stim," Kix tells him, before dropping the rest of the supplies and setting to work.

Boil doesn't know how long he sits there uselessly watching the medic work over Waxer, but eventually Kix pats Waxer's hip gently and smiles at them both. "There. You'll be just fine, sir. Rex has almost an identical wound. Just take it easy, don't try to move too much. I have to get back out there, see who else needs my help. You have him, Boil?"

Boil nods, giving Kix a shaky smile in thanks. He watches Kix leave the tent, before grabbing Waxer’s hand and clenching tightly.

“I’m okay,” Waxer says, eyes half lidded with exhaustion. Whatever is in those pain stims is a god damn miracle

Boil nods, swallowing thickly. He clears his throat, a shaky smile working on his face. “I don’t know why I do it. Trying to keep you alive is the hardest job I’ve ever had.”

Waxer grunts a laugh, his free hand resting over his bandaged chest. “Yeah, but you always will,” he says cockily.

Boil scoffs, clinging to the positive mood change. “Next time someone else can save your ass,” he jokes.

Waxer’s smile disappears, and Boil’s heart skips a beat. “No, it’ll always be you,” he whispers. He squeezes Boil’s hand, and takes a deep breath. “And I wouldn’t want anyone else to save me.”

Boil blinks, shocked. “What?” He whispers back.

“It’s you,” Waxer murmurs, just a bit louder than before. “It’s always been you.”

Boil’s breath hitches, and he scoots closer to the cot. “Waxer,” he says, his right hand lifting up to run his fingers over Waxer’s cheek.

Waxer leans into it, a soft smile finding its way on his lips. “I love you,” he says plainly, eyes flitting from Boil’s face to where his fingers are on his cheekbone.

Boil laughs once, cupping his cheek fully. Waxer turns his head to kiss the palm, before nuzzling it carefully. “You weren’t supposed to go and fall in love,” Boil chides, but he can’t keep the elation out of his voice.

“Neither were you,” Waxer retorts, grin growing and his sleepy eyes trained on Boil’s.

Boil laughs again, bringing Waxer’s hand up to his lips to gently kiss the knuckles. “You don’t know that I am,” he argues.

Waxer rolls his eyes, tiredly squeezing Boil’s hand. “Yeah, because people who aren’t in love act like you did when you thought I was dying.”

Boil winces at the memory, clearing his throat. “Shut up,” he says.

Waxer chuckles deeply, eyes fluttering in his fight to keep them open. “Make me,” he mumbles, probably not thinking about the implications.

Boil does, though. He wastes no time; he leans down, connecting their lips in a chaste kiss.

Waxer gasps for just a moment, before his free hand rises to cup the back of Boil’s neck.

Boil tightens his grip on Waxer’s fingers, his other hand still gently cupping his face. He pulls away just an inch, smirking down at the lieutenant. “That seemed to shut you up,” he whispers.

Waxer huffs an almost silent laugh, pulling Boil back down to kiss him again. He releases Boil after a few seconds, touching their foreheads together instead.

Boil smiles, eyes closed. “I love you too,” he finally whispers after some time, rubbing his thumb along Waxer’s cheekbone.

Waxer hums, his hand slipping from Boil’s neck and down his chest until it falls just below his chest. “Knew it,” Is all he manages to mumble.

Boil rolls his eyes, leaning back and continuing to pet his face. He watches Waxer fall asleep, and a content sigh escapes his lips.

Despite the horror of the day, he feels like everything will be okay as long as Waxer is here and his.