#this is not a bad thing. they have clocked me correctly: i AM willing to help

[crimeronan]

i've GOTTA improve my spanish, i keep having strangers ask me for help while i'm out and about & i always forget literally everything i know bc i haven't spoken it conversationally in ages. i need to do some duolingo before i can speak aloud but do any of my spanish-speaking friends/followers want to chat via DMs in spanish sometime so i can get better at it?

[moonbeamwritings]

the three times you kiss jotaro’s forehead + the one time he returns the favor

Summary: Jotaro didn’t find himself to be an overly affectionate man, accepting it reluctantly and dishing it out rarely. With you, though, he might as well be putty in your hands.

Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to the lovely @jostepherjoestar​ who listened to me babble on about this idea. I’m also still working to chip away at requests, so keep an eye out! I hope y’all enjoy !!

!! slight tw for descriptions of nightmares/blood/mental health issues and spoiler warning for part 3 !!

Jotaro was certainly no stranger to affection. His mother’s goodbye smooches, pressed to his cheek while he ducked to meet her halfway; The way his grandfather would ruffle his hair the moment his hat was off his head; The girls from high school, desperately clinging to his arms and coat, making him squirm in discomfort under their hungry gazes.

And yours.

Your affection, so minimal and subtle in its delivery, never failed to make his heart race, to make his face heat up in slight embarrassment. You kept your public displays minimal, straying away from kisses and hugs in favor of wrapping your hand around his or keeping close to his side, arms brushing against one another.

At home, though, you held back less, never shying away from kissing his cheek or wrapping your arms around his waist, nuzzling against his back.

He never thought he’d be one for affection. Hell, he barely knew how to return the favor, but here you were, showing him you cared through such small, intimate acts.

i.

His computer monitor burned his eyes as his fingers danced along the keyboard in front of him, clock ticking away to punctuate the silence of his home office. The files spread out across his desk acted as a constant reminder of the deadline for his research paper. Jotaro sighed.

You, on the other hand, were out in the living room to give Jotaro the time and space he needed to get his work done. Your heart tugged as you looked at the time.

12:43 AM

The movie credits rolled on the television in front of you and you decided to take your leave, finally ready to wrap yourself in your comforter and drift off to sleep for the night.

On your way to bed, you saw the light from his office drift out into the hallway, casting oblong shadows onto the walls. Stopping to stand in the doorway, you admired your boyfriend’s form, quietly tapping away at his computer.

Without sparing you a glance he asked, “Heading to bed?”

You smiled as you stepped into the room, coming around his desk to hug him from behind. “Mhm, you?”

Jotaro quickly shook his head, pulling a hand away from his work to hold one of your forearms in his grasp, “Not yet. Sorry.”

You hummed, rolling your eyes. “You work far too hard, ocean man.”

He nearly groaned at the little nickname.

“But I’m tired.” You continued. “G’night, love you.”

“Love you.”

Hearing his reply, you hunched farther over his shoulder to plant warm, chaste kisses to his temple. Once, twice.

“Don’t stay up too late.”

You knew that telling him that would ultimately fall on deaf ears, but hey, you could dream couldn’t you?

He listened to your footsteps pad down towards the bedroom as his face warmed, reinvigorated by the soft kisses you pressed to his forehead.

ii. 

Jotaro appreciated you, so much so that sometimes it made his heart burst. He was bad at expressing it to you, either verbally or physically, but god did he love you.

Jotaro’s day at work had been… less than stellar, to say the very least. The data his lab had been collecting hadn’t been saved correctly, thus setting the lab back by a whole week, another researcher had practically berated his methodology in front of their colleagues, and to top the whole thing off, someone had spilled coffee all over the front of his favorite white coat.

In short, everything sucked.

His head hung low, hat having already been flung off when he began to drive home. His coat was at the cleaners, leaving him in his simple, black turtleneck.

Kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag in its usual place, Jotaro was quick to rest back against the couch, stretching his limbs out as he placed his head against the armrest.

“Baby? That you?”

Baby. The pet name made a ghost of a smile appear on Jotaro’s lips.

“Yeah, it’s me.” He called back, slinging an arm up to cover his eyes.

When you saw the state Jotaro was in, splayed out on the couch like a dead man, you frowned.

“Bad day, big guy?”

“Really bad.” His response was short, a grumbled mess hidden behind the sleeve of his sweater. As you made your way over, leaning down to hover above his tired form, all you wanted to do was wrap him up in your arms, shielding him from whatever weight was on his shoulders.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, not right now.”

Jotaro was a man of few words, but it especially made your heart ache when you could so plainly see how upset he was. You watched as he shifted his arm away from his eyes, gazing up at you, “Sorry.”

Closing the distance, you hunched lower to leave one, gentle smooch right in the center of his forehead, cradling his cheeks in your hands. The feeling of your soft lips against his forehead eased the tension between his brows, lifting the weight from his shoulders. It was as if your mere presence made his heart that much lighter. He was beyond grateful.

“It’s okay. I’m sure I’ll get it out of you one of these days. You hungry?”

Jotaro’s stomach growled in lieu of a verbal response.

You laughed. “Come on, handsome, I tried making one of your mom’s recipes.”

Maybe this day could be salvaged, Jotaro thought as your fingers came to twine with his.

iii. 

He saw Kakyoin, Avdol, and Iggy often, but no, not in the way that you’d think.

They haunted him. Dreams, nightmares filled with nothing but blood, gore, and the whirring roar of sirens. Their voices were often warped, both far away and so, so close that Jotaro felt as though he would go deaf. Accusatory fingers pointing in his direction as they leered, hurling insults his way. Your fault, selfish, fuck up. You could’ve saved us.

On this particular night, Jotaro was visited by DIO himself, descending his grand staircase with bodies littered behind him as blood raced down the steps.

DIO sneered as he hovered near Jotaro’s ear, whispering pure toxicity into it and trying as he might, Jotaro couldn’t land a single punch.

He was rocked off his feet as DIO kicked him away, knocking the wind from Jotaro’s chest as he toppled to the floor. DIO crouched before him, smirk more and more evident as his voice rose to a thunder. 

“It’s your fault, you know? How truly pathetic.”

Just as DIO reached out to grip Jotaro’s chin in his hand, Jotaro shot awake.

His breathing was labored as he moved to sit up, chest heaving as hot, wet tears began falling down his cheeks. Without realizing it, Jotaro had jostled the bed under his weight, waking you up as well.

“Jotaro? Baby, what’s wrong?”

You sat up next to him as you placed a warm hand against his back, rubbing it in soothing circles. He leaned over, curling against your side to rest his head on your shoulder.

“A nightmare, that’s all.” He replied once he found his voice, keeping his eyes closed as he willed his heart to slow.

“What can I do?”

“Don’t leave.”

The solution was simple enough, given you had no intention of doing anything of the sort. You didn’t think you’d ever heard his voice sound quite so small. Smiling despite the situation, you responded, “I think I can do that.”

This time, the kisses you planted against his forehead conveyed everything you wanted to say. I love you. You’re important. I’m not going anywhere.

The messages blossomed in his head, overgrowing and covering the images of DIO and blood, obscuring the anxiety and dread that found a home there. He allowed himself to be lulled back to sleep, comforted by your lips and your warmth against his skin.

i. 

Jotaro could tell you’d had a bad day the moment you stepped into his office. As he watched you frown while lingering in the doorway, his mind raced through all the ways you’d comforted him in the past.

Kind words. Soft touches. Forehead kisses.

“Bad day?” He asked, trying to emulate the tone of voice you typically used with him, hoping to convey even a fraction of the gentle, calming lilt you often gifted him with.

All you could do was nod.

“What are you waiting for then? Come here.”

He waved you over, pushing his desk chair out so you could slide into his lap, legs resting on either side of his hips as you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Jotaro let a quiet moment pass as he relished in the warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your shampoo.

His movements were awkward as he began moving a hand against your back, smoothing circles into the fabric of your shirt. He was out of his element, you both knew it, but it was exactly what you needed.

“Wanna talk?”

He felt you shake your head against his neck. Letting out a quiet hum, he pulled away from you slightly. As you looked up at him, eyebrows creased in confusion, Jotaro left a warm, loving kiss against your forehead.

Your head returned to his neck moments later and he was quick to rest his hand against the back of your head.

He may not always know what to do, but if nothing else, Jotaro loved you. Plain and simple.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 6

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,710ish

Summary: Val throws a party. You remember the date.

Warning: talk of sex / I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.

The morning came and you laid in your bed, staring at the ceiling. You really wanted to go meet Steve for breakfast, but you knew you probably shouldn’t. With a heavy sigh, you turned over to look at your bedside clock. There was 30 minutes until it was time to meet Steve. You could make it in time, if you went. You also had the day off so if you didn’t go, you wouldn’t run in to Steve today anyway.

After another five minutes of debating, you heaved yourself up and hurried into your bathroom. You got ready quickly, not going too overboard with trying to impress him. As you ran down the stairs, you shoved Clint out of the way.

“Woah!” He exclaimed. “What’s the rush?”

“Sorry, Clint!” You replied, not stopping. “I gotta go!”

When you finally got to the cafe, you were a few minutes late and Steve was already at an outside table. You noticed that he looked a little nervous. He was sketching in a notebook, knee bouncing under the table.

“Is this seat taken?” You asked, having walked quietly up to the table.

Steve’s head snapped up. He looked a little surprised and relieved to see you standing there. “Uh, no,” he smiled. He motioned to the seat across from him. “Be my guest.”

“Thank you,” you pulled out your chair and sat down. He handed you the menu. You took it before looking at the notebook on the table. There was a sketch of you on the open page. “Wow. Did you draw that?”

Steve quickly shut the book and set it in his lap. “You weren’t suppose to see that. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, it was really good.”

“Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you go into art?”

“Doesn’t pay the bills. Plus, brains are more fun.”

You laughed. “I guess so.”

The two of you order food and sat there for a few hours talking. It was mostly him asking about you and you telling him extremely long stories. You had just finished one about you and your parents that left him laughing.

“You’re parents sound amazing,” Steve said, finishing off his laugh. “I would love to meet them some day.” 

You stopped, immediately looking sad. Just the thought of your parents caused you to remember something. The date. It would be the first anniversary of their deaths in two days.

“Y/N?” Steve broke you out of your trace. You looked at him, a furrowed brow and worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I… I should go,” you stood, scraping your chair against the ground as you did. Steve quickly stood up as well, surprised at your sudden need to leave. “I really need to go.”

You hurried out of the cafe’s fenced on section. You didn’t make it much farther before Steve’s large hand was around your bicep, stopping you.

“You’re surprising fast,” he tried to joke. You clearly weren’t having it. “What’s the rush?” He tried to study your eyes, they looked pained. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ll see you at work, Steve. Please.” You tugged away from him. “I have to go.”

He stood there, watching, as you hurried off to your car and drove into traffic.

~~~

You went straight to the hospital, willingly taking someone’s shift to get your mind off everything. You did not want to remember it and you definitely didn’t want to drown yourself in grief. You were going to work it off.

By the time your intern friends got to the hospital, you had been there for 20 hours. You ate and caught sleep when you could but it was never very much. Valkyrie immediately came up to you and told you about a party she wanted to throw for her girlfriend that was coming into town. You agreed to it, absentmindedly since you were so tired, on the condition that it wouldn’t be very big.

Before you knew it, the day of the anniversary arrived, and you were doing everything possible to avoid thinking about it. Thankfully, you hadn’t seen Steve since you hurried away. You really didn’t want to explain it all to him. It was early morning when Dr. Banner pulled you into a surgery. You were holding the heart as he worked, with your fellow interns watching from the gallery.

“I wish I could hold a heart,” Scott whined.

“A monkey could hold a heart,” Natasha responded.

“You’re just mad that Banner didn’t ask you.”

“Has anyone noticed that Y/N’s been acting strange lately?” Clint asked, eyes trained on you below. “Like, more than usual.”

“I haven’t,” Natasha shrugged.

“She’s probably just having a bad day,” Scott said.

“Clint!” Val came into the gallery. “I need more ice and chips.”

“Who else did you invite, Val?” He asked.

“Val, we said the list was jocks only. Surgery, Trauma, Plastics.”

“I invited a few of the people from Peds.”

“Great!” Natasha scoffed. “You invited the kindergarteners to Y/N’s place. The next thing you’ll say is that you invited the shrinks.” Val winced. “You invited the mental defects? This party’s going to suck.”

“You know that Y/N thinks this is just going to be a little, small, meet-your-girlfriend cocktail thing, right?” Clint questioned.

“Yes. I’ll tell her the change in plans though. I promise.”

“Why are you wasting the only weekend your girlfriend is in town on a big party?” Natasha asked. “Is she bad in bed?”

“No,” Val chuckled. “I just want her to meet some of my friends.”

“Right. Sixty some odd geeks in scrubs are your friends.” Her pager went off, causing her to look at it and get up to leave. “Bad sex, sucks for you.”

“Did I hear correctly that there’s a party at Y/N’s house tonight?” Peter asked, leaning against the doorway.

“Oh really, a party?” Natasha responded, playing down.

“Uh, news to me,” Scott added.

“Yeah, no party,” Clint said.

~~~

The surgery was long, but amazing. Though it still didn’t help get your mind off the day.

“Hey,” Steve greeted, coming up beside you as you headed to the elevator. “I heard you did a CABG with Banner.”

“Yeah,” you responded.

“Did you get to hold the heart?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s an amazing feeling. You never forget your first time.”

“It was pretty great just to watch,” Clint said, sliding in between the two of you. “Vicarious thrills, you know?”

“Yeah,” you replied again, too caught up in your mind to do anything else.

The elevator dinged and you and Clint walked on. You turned around to see Steve, still standing outside the elevator, looking concerned.

“I’ll see you later,” he commented, the furrow of his brow never changing.

“Bye,” you responded as the doors shut. Clint was leaning back against the wall, watching you. It was eerily silent until you finally spoke. “My parents died a year ago today,” it was a whisper.

“What?” Clint stood up straight, coming towards you. “How—“

“They were driving in a canyon. The road was icy…. Dad lost control of the car… it dove off the cliff.”

“Oh my goodness. Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“I’ve never told anyone what happened before.” A single tear slipped down your cheek. “My parents… they were famous surgeons. I… I changed my last name after they died.”

“Y/N, who were they?” The elevator doors opened.

“I’ve got to go.” 

You rushed out, quickly disappearing in the crowd of doctors and nurses before Clint could follow you. You weren’t watching were you were going, in search for an on call room to break in. You rammed into someone, stumbling back. The person’s hands quickly landed on your biceps, holding you steady.

“Woah there,” Dr. Stark chuckled. “What’s the rush?”

You looked up, teary eyed and embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Stark,” you rushed out. “Let me just—“

“Now, hold on a damn minute.” He got a good look at your face, there was clearly something wrong. “What’s going on?”

“Dr. Stark, I really don’t think—“

“Here.” He pulled you into an empty on call room. “Talk.”

“Dr. Stark, this isn’t appropriate.”

“Neither are the giant heart eyes my friend Steve has every time you walk by. You’re clearly upset, and I want to help. I was also friends with your parents.”

“What?”

“You’re parents are the reason I’m alive. I had an accident a few years back, shrapnel too close to my heart. They saved me. So, I owe it to them to watch over you.”

“You really don’t, Dr. Stark.”

“The name’s Tony.”

“Tony. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know what today is. I’ve been dreading this day for a week now. I can only imagine how you must be feeling.” You looked up, trying to blink away the tears. “Did you change your name because of the accident?”

“I couldn’t stand the thought of living in my dead parents shadows… it was too much.”

“Understood… does Steve know?”

“No.”

“You should tell him.”

“I don’t want people to know.”

“Yeah, but Steve isn’t people, is he?” You didn’t answer so Tony sighed. “Look, I have no right to tell you who you tell or don’t tell. But… Steve’s a good person. He’s been through his far share of struggles. He’d be just willing to listen, if that’s all you wanted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Tony.”

“Anytime.” He walked to the door, opening it to head out. “Oh and, by the way,” he turned to look at you, “I’m totally rooting for the two of you.”

~~~

Natasha was standing at a nurses station, filling out some paperwork, when a cup of coffee was set beside her. She glanced over to see Dr. Banner, sipping his own cup, looking back at her.

“Just coffee,” he said with a nervous smile.

Natasha looked confused. “Good,” she responded.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Bruce gave her a nod before walking away. Closing what she was doing, Natasha hesitated before picking up the coffee and drinking it. Unknown to her, Bruce and Tony were peeking around the corner and watching her. Hiding back behind the corner, they high fived. 

“Look at what taking my advice can do, Bruce,” Tony exclaimed. 

“Alright, alright,” Bruce agreed. “Maybe I should listen a little more often.”

“Damn right you should.”

“Dr. Stark,” Dr. Potts called, heading towards the nurses station. “Please watch your language around the patients.” She began filling out a chart.

“My deepest apologies, Dr. Potts. We were just celebrating victory.” She still did not look impressed. “You know what would be even more worth celebrating? You, finally accepting a date from me.”

“Okay,” she replied, not bothering to look up.

“You’ve given me that excuse before, and it hasn’t stopped me— wait… did you just agree?”

“I did.” She handed over the chart to the nurse before facing Tony. “I’m only free Friday night. Will that work?”

“Um… yeah…”

“Pick me up in the lobby at 7.” Then Pepper strutted away.

“Look at you go, Tony,” Bruce laughed, putting an arm over his friends shoulders. “She finally said yes.”

“Yeah, and I have 3 surgeries and a meeting with the chief Friday night.”

Bruce grimaced. “Well, you’ll either have to cancel everything or just wine and dine her over a boob job.”

“I’m definitely going to need it covered.”

~~~

After your talk with Tony, you focused on helping a few patients. You were getting a file from the nurses station to help your next one when Steve walked up to you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, still concerned.

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded. “I’m good.”

“Are you sure? Cause you seem not okay.”

“I’m fine. The CABG was just long.”

“Well, let me take you out to dinner tonight. You can tell me all about it. Real food, waiters, big chunks of carbs in a basket.”

“I can’t.”

“Forget about the party.”

“You know about the party?”

“Your friends will be at the party. You and I can be alone somewhere else.”

“How do you know about the party?”

“Thanks for not inviting me, by the way. That felt good.”

“I didn’t— it’s supposed to be a small get together. Nothing big.”

“Sure doesn’t sound that way to me. Anyway, dinner. Think about dinner.” His pager went off. He looked down at it before looking back at you. “I’ve got to go. But, think about it.”

~~~

Natasha, Clint, and Scott were sitting in the abandoned hallway as Val walked in.

“Okay, so the beer’s coming at 7,” she told them all. “And some of the floor nurses are bringing wine.”

“You invited nurses?” Natasha asked.

“Did you clear this with Y/N?” Scott asked.

“A few more people isn’t going to make a different. Okay? A party’s a party.”

“But it will,” Clint said. “She’s having a day.”

“And the bigger the party, the less time for bad sex with the girlfriend,” Natasha added.

“Would you stop saying that?” Val was getting annoyed. “Britt and I have great sex.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“All the time.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“In fact, we’ll probably have sex during and after the party.”

“As long as you clear the party with Y/N,” Clint cut in.

“Britt just needs to realize that doctors can have fun. That we’re not all workaholics with god complexes.”

“We are workaholics with god complexes.”

“Just please tell tell Y/N before the party,” Clint continued. “Just… please.”

~~~

Having a few moments to breathe, you sat in the lobby, staring out the window. You were flipping your cell phone in your hand. The few people left who knew you and what day it was had kept trying to call you, leaving long, saddened voicemails and texts. You were ignoring all of it, not wanting to try and make the others feel better when it was your day to be off.

“Hey,” Steve plopped down in the chair next to you. “I heard.”

“You heard what?” You were immediately scared about what he could have heard.

“That you and Tony had a talk.”

“Oh… did he tell you what we talked about?”

“No. He just told me that I should talk to you and let you have the day to not be okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. But that’s okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and stood up from your chair. “We’re adults,” you started walking backwards so you could still face him. “When did that happen? And how do we make it stop?”

Steve stood up. “Y/N—“

“I’ll see you later, Dr. Rogers.”

You took your leaving, heading straight for the locker room. You had decided that you were heading to the cemetery, or to the bar across the street. It was time for you to head anyway.

~~~

“You paged me?” Clint questioned Val as he walked up to her.

“I’m gonna be a while,” she responded. “Do you think you could get home and sign for the beer?”

“Why don’t you have your girlfriend sign for it?” Peter asked, randomly showing up.

“You have a very annoying way of sneaking up on people. And you’re not invited.”

“I wouldn't come anyway. I hate big parties.”

“Is Y/N the only person in the medical center who doesn’t know the size of this thing?” Clint asked.

“I’m telling her,” Val said. “I’ll page her now.”

“You can’t,” Natasha said, walking up. “She’s gone already.”

“What? Already?”

“She’s been here for almost 48 hours. It was time for her to go.”

“You don’t think Y/N’s really going to mind about the party, right?”

“When you tell her, I want you to make it very clear to her that I had nothing to do with this party,” Clint responded. “Nothing.”

“Why? Do you—you like her!”

“N-no!”

“And not just as a roommate!”

“I’ve got to go.”

~~~

You decided to drive around instead of going to the cemetery or the bar. You headed to your house, knowing you’re late for the party. As you drove up, there were cars lining the street and lots of people heading into your house.

“Val, I’m going to kill you,” you murmured.

After finally finding somewhere to park, you walked into the house. There were people everywhere, and you didn’t recognize any of them. It was clear, as you walked through the crowd, that most of them were already drunk. The music was making the walls shake. Eventually, and thankfully, you found Clint.

“Where is Val?!” You shouted.

“She didn’t clear it with you?” Clint responded, holding a bottle of tequila.

“This was supposed to be a meet-the-girlfriend get together little thing!”

“Val has a lot of friends.”

“Val definitely doesn’t know this many people.”

“I told her to clear it with you.”

“I really can’t handle this right now.”

“You want me to kick everyone out? I’m gonna kick everyone out.”

“Y/N, baby! You made it!” A drunk Natasha exclaimed, dancing up to them. “Woo!”

“Screw it,” you gave in. “Give me this.” 

You ripped the tequila bootle from Clint’s hand and took a big swig of it. It burned but you didn’t care. You started dancing with Natasha. Clint soon joined the two of you. After the three of you were more drunk, you escaped into one of the empty side rooms.

“Why did we want to be surgeons anyway?” You wondered, laying on the floor.

“Surgery is a very serious business,” Clint responded before letting out a burp.

“Surgery is stupid. It’s stupid…. It’s stupid.” You took another long sip of a drink.

“Give me that,” Natasha took your drink from you. “You’re drunk.”

“I'm not driving. I'm not on call. I'm in my own house. My life is crap. And it's my party and I'll get drunk if I want to.”

Suddenly, a beautiful blond woman peeked her head in. “Is, um, Val here?” She asked.

“Oh, you must be Britt,” Natasha laughed, standing up. “You’re very model-like. And, no, Val’s not here right now.” She stumbled passed Britt and out of the room.

“You and Valkyrie are very beautiful,” Clint stated.

“Val said she was going to be at home,” Britt said, clearly uncomfortable as she looked around. “She didn’t say there was going to be a party.”

“Which, I promise you, pisses both of us off,” you slurred. “Tequila?” You lifted the bottle up. “It helps.”

“When do you think she’s gonna get here?”

“Don’t know. But… I do know I’m low on tequila, Britt.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I. We’re interns, Britt. The hospital owns us. It’s what we do.”

Britt gave a fake smile before leaving.

“Bye!” Clint shouted after her.

“Nice to meet ya!” You added. “She was hot.”

~~~

Not too long later, you ended up in the front of your house, swaying drunkenly. Steve was out front too, hands stuffed in his pockets as he leaned against his car and watched you.

“You know,” he called out, bringing your attention to him, “in some states, you could get arrested for that.” You headed towards him. “So you blew me off for a bottle of tequila. Tequila’s no good for ya. It doesn’t call, doesn’t text. It doesn’t write. And it definitely isn’t as much fun to wake up to.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck. You pulled him in for a kiss, which he definitely wasn’t refusing.

“Take me for a ride, Steve,” you whispered.

Holding onto your waist, he opened the passenger seat car door. He sat down before pulling you onto him and shutting the door. You straddled him, kissing down his neck as he leaned back the seat. Your hands soon found the way to his shirt. Tugging at the ends, he got the hint and took it off. You lost your breath for a moment. You had seen him before but you had forgotten how gorgeous the man beneath you actually was.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asked, softly caressing your cheek.

“Nothing,” you responded. “I just…” You trailed off before kissing him again, this time getting more heated.

~~~

After a good round of sex, even from the passenger seat, Steve pulled his shirt over your shoulders.

“You know…” he started as you leaned in and kissed his bare shoulder, “it sounds like the party’s winding down.” You slowly started trailing kisses up his neck. “Listen to me,” he laughed, pushing you to sit up. “We should probably sneak inside.”

“I actually think we’ve done enough sneaking for the night,” you replied. “It was good sneaking, but enough.”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “I’d say we’re pretty good sneakers.”

He pulled you down for a kiss. You were quickly interrupted by a tapping on your window. As you hurried and separated, you saw that it was Gamora.

“You mind moving this tail wagon?” She asked, clearly annoyed. “You’re blocking me in.”

“Apparently not good enough,” Steve said as you groaned and rested your head on Steve’s shoulders.

“I’m so fired,” you muttered.

~~~

You woke up in the morning with a splintering headache and a trashed house. You couldn’t deal with either immediately though as you were going to be late to work. Going downstairs with Scott and Clint, Val walked into the house.

“Holy mother of destruction,” she exclaimed, looking around.

“You missed doctor-palooza,” you responded, heading to the kitchen to find something to eat.

“Apparently, you all didn’t.” She observed the tiredness of the three of you.

“I should probably never speak to you again.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I had no idea it was going to get so—“

“It’s fine. Really, I don’t care. What would I be doing anyway?” Clint handed you a bottle of water before him and Clint headed out of the house, with you following. “I’m not cleaning this up though!”

~~~

Natasha was walking down the hall when she noticed a tired Doctor Banner enter an on call room. She slipped in, locking the door behind her. Bruce looked up, having already taken off his shoes and shirt.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Natasha said.

Getting a surge of confidence, Bruce walked over and kissed her. Beginning to kiss more passionately, they undressed each other.

“You’re welcome,” Bruce mumbled.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[unlikelymilkshakedream]

A/n: Hello! Here is part 3 for the Charlie Weasley fic I promised. Sorry this took so long. I promised angst, so I'm giving it. Hope you enjoy!

Another day, another exam, or so it seemed that way at Hogwarts. As May came to a close, and June starts, your O.W.L.s were giving you more stress than you had ever felt. Your future was on the line if you didn't do well with your exams.

Not only were your exams crushing you, your relationship had been rocky for a couple of months. After the valentines day dance with your date, Charlie Weasley, nothing could have made your life better. You were dating your best friend, all of your friends supported you, and you had no tests coming up. In other words, very different from your life currently.

You were still technically dating your best friend, but from long classes and homework that came with them, to Charlie's quiditch practices lasting forever in hopes of winning the house cup, you hadn't had time to spend a moment alone together in what felt like years.

Your friends would always be there for you and you knew that, you cared about them with your whole heart and knew they felt the same way, but they had their own exams and futures just as you did. You would never ask them for anything because you didn't want to be a burden.

And of course, your exams. Your dreams of becoming a curse breaker were very important to you. You wanted nothing more than to help people, on top of finding your brother and protecting hogwarts. You were a natural curse breaker so it only makes sense that you would pursue your passion. However, if you wanted to do that, you needed to not only pass your exams, but exceed the expectations.

With that responsibility came nights on end in the library, studying, preparing and hoping that it would all work out. Your exams, finding your brother, hell, even your relationship with Charlie. You knew how rocky it was and you were devastated by that, but you knew if you two truly wanted to, it would work out, or so you hoped.

So, another night in the library, was your fate. You wanted to be with Charlie, but you knew he had quiditch practice, and you had a potions exam in the morning that you weren't ready for. As you flipped through your book, trying to soak up as much information as you could, you didn't notice a certain redhead sneak behind you.

"Hey baby," you felt the hot breathe on your neck and jumped more than out of your skin.

"Blimey Charlie, you scared me." He chuckled as he pulled a chair beside you.

"Sorry, I just wanted to see you after practice, and I haven't seen you all weekend." He smiled at you, which you couldn't help but smile back.

"I know, its just tomorrow starts like the most stressful week of the year. If I don't do well on my exams, my future can be forgotten. Speaking of, I am not ready for potions tomorrow, hence why I'm here." You smiled as you looked back towards your book.

"Hey, you're gonna do great on your exam because you are great, and smart, and beautiful," Charlie said as you rolled your eyes and laughed. "Its just we haven't seen each other in a while, thought i could keep you company." You sighed.

"Look, I know we haven't been the most talkative lately, but what exactly do you want me to say, you know how important this is to me." He put his hand on yours.

"I know, I get it baby, I do, and after this week, we're gonna celebrate." He said with the biggest grin on his face. Suddenly, Madame Pince came around the corner with the dirtiest look on her face.

"Shh!" You smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry Madam-"

"Shh!!!" You sighed as she walked away. You turned back to charlie.

"You better go, I have to study and don't wanna get kicked out." You smiled at him.

"Okay, but I meant what I said about celebrating." He smiled hugley. You returned the smile, only a fraction of what he had given you. That made his smile falter and eventually he turned and walked back to his dorm.

Eventually you had to except the time as 11pm rolled around and Madam Pince kicked you out of the library. You took the book along with all your other stuff and headed towards your common room.

Once you were in, you sat down near the fireplace and opened your potions book once again, flipping to the section about dragon livers and how they were hard to get.

Eventually, you heard the clock strike 2am and had to call it a night. As you closed your booka nd sat back, looking into the fire, you thought of your life as a cursebreaker, how great it would be, how much you wanted to do it, and what you were willing to do to achieve that goal.

As you stood up and headed towards the stairwell, your way was blocked by charlie, the last person you expected to see, especially at this hour.

"Hey, what're you doing up?" Charlie asked groggy.

"I could ask you the same thing. I was just going to bed." You said as you pushed past him and climbed the stairs. He followed you up.

"I thought you'd be up, I was just checking on you." You turned around as you got to the last step before your dorm and smiled.

"Thats sweet, but go back to bed. Goodnight." You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, then headed into your dorm, falling on your bed and instantly falling asleep.

The next morning, you woke at around 8. Shit. You were late. You quickly got up and dressed faster than ever and ran to the dungeons. You mad either to class just in time, not eating or anything.

"Well, well, Ms. Brooks, you have decided to grace us with your presence, how considerate." Snape sneered at you as you walked to your seat beside Rowan, breathing heavily, across the room, you saw Charlie looking worriedly at you, which was the last thing you wanted in that moment.

Once your potion exam was finished, you walked out of the room, feeling exhausted and like you failed. You started walking to your next exam, which was charms, the easiest of your exams. Soon enough a certain redhead caught up with you.

"Hey, y/n, why were you late today?" You turned to him.

"I over slept, which I dont do, so I didn't realize at which point I had to sprint to make it, which I didnt." You sighed tired lying. "Why?"

"Just wondering, I missed you at breakfast. Did you eat anything?" You smiled softly.

"No, I haven't but its fine, look i have to go to charms and I really don't wanna be late again, see you." Without another word from either of you, you walked away to charms.

At charms, you felt most confident of all classes, which honestly wasn't saying a lot. You finished your exam pretty easily and walked to the great hall, intending on studying until your Defense Against the Dark Arts exam in an hour. Once the clock struck the time to take your next exam, you left the great hall.

Once you reached DADA, you walked in with Tulip and took your seat. You should feel bad, but you just were so glad charlie wasn't there, staring at you like a sorry case. He meant well and you knew it but you just wanted space.

As you finished your final exam of the day, you headed to the library, studying for transfigurations next. When you reached the library, unfortunately you fell into the same pattern as the previous night, except this time no charlie.

When the clock struck midnight, you went to the dorm room and headed straight for bed, not bothering to study anymore. Once your head hit the pillow, you were out.

When you woke up the next morning, the sun was shining into your window nicely. It was a good way to wake up honestly. You say up and saw Rowan asleep. You figured you had a few minutes before breakfast so you got up and got dressed.

You and Rowan walked to breakfast while revising your transfiguration knowledge. You didn't feel as bad about it as potions but you also didn't feel as great about it as charms. Walking into the great hall, you found Charlie sitting with his younger brothers. You knew you had to go sit with him.

"Hey y/n, how'd you sleep?" Charlie asked as he saw you sit next to him and his brothers giggled at him, to which he sent a dirty look.

"Um, not the best but ye know. Its whatever." As you sat down you ate the blandest breakfast ever, granola and coffee, it would just have to do for today.

"Are you guys ready for the big game tomorrow night?" Fred asked the table. You looked at him with a confused expression whereas everyone else seemed to understand.

"What game fred?" He turned to you.

"Uh, the house cup game, we are so gonna kick hufflepuffs ass." Ah.

"Right, good luck." Charlie turned to you.

"You'll come right love? What me win?" You smiled as you sipped your coffee.

"Uh yeah, maybe, I might have to study for History of magic but we'll see." Charlie stopped.

"Y/n, you can't miss the game, its only the biggest game of the year. Please come." Ugh when he gave you those puppy dog eyes, you knew you were done for.

"Okay, yes I will go, of course I will." You smiled and kissed his cheek.

As breakfast finished and you and Rowan made your way to transfiguration, you felt confident in the upcoming essay. Going over info with Rowan definitely helped.

Once you were finished with the exam, you went to the great hall, being assigned twenty five inches of parchment for the second half of the exam was not ideal. You were stressed out, but at least you only had care of magical creatures left for the day, something you were sure you'd excel in thanks to charlie.

As you walked down the grounds for your exam, you felt very confident that you'd do well. Your confidence was correctly placed as you walked to the common room to start on you parchment for transfiguration, doing very well on your exam in care of magical creatures.

The real problems didn't start until the following day, charlies big game was today and you hadn't made a dent in your parchment, due to not being able to focus and eventually falling asleep far earlier than you would have liked. Today you had exams in astronomy, history of magic and a regular potions class. You were extremely busy today, it didn't help you woke up 20 minutes before your exam in astronomy so you had to sprint once again to be on time.

Once you were seated in astronomy, your exam begun and you didnt feel very confident. You gave it your all and after about 75 minutes, you were done. You walked out and saw your boyfriend charlie who lit up when he saw you. You walked over to him with a small smile on your face.

"Hey babe, whats up?" You asked him.

"Not much now that your hear, just nervous for later." You looked at his smiling face confused.

"Later?" His smile dropped. You had forgotten about the quitditch match.

"The match that determines who wins the house cup? I thought you were coming, its really important to me." Shit. Right, yeah of course you would go.

"Right, of course I will be there, sorry I'm just tired you know how it is. I will be there, but right now I have to go to potions, ill see you later." Damn, how had you forgotten?

Potions seemed to last forever as Snape lectured on Beatle brains, you swore you were going to die of boredom, all you wanted to do was study for history of magic.

When class was finally dismissed, you headed straight for the library, not having your final exam for an hour and a half. When you sat down in the library, you immediately fell into studying, the time slipping by quickly until it was time to go to your exam.

Arriving to your exam, you set your things down and got ready for it, feeling confident as you had spent a lot of time studying for this. You finished your exam in 65 minutes and headed to the great hall, feeling hungry.

When you got to the great hall and saw what was happening inside, all hunger left your body.

Shit.

Inside, Gryffindor students were celebrating the win of the house cup, you had forgotten the game. You walked in to the great hall and saw Charlie, held up by his teammates above everyone like a king. You smiled at how happy he looked, but when he saw you, its like every drop of happiness was taken from him and you felt your heart break.

Charlie told his team mates to let him down which they did as he made his way over to you, looking hurt and disappointed. You couldn't do much besides stand there and look at him sheepishly.

"Y/n, why didn't you come to the game, you knew how important it was to me and how much I could have used your support." He said loudly, causing those near you to look on at the conversation.

"Charlie, can we go in the hallway?" He looked pissed but didn't object. Once you were away from everyone, you turned to him.

"Charlie, I am so sorry I didn't go to your game, I was in the library studying and the time just got away from me and before I knew it I had to go to my exam and I completely forgot l. I'm so sorry. But you won anyway so you didn't need me at all, cause your just that good." You said with a smile, trying to defuse his anger. It didn't work.

"Y/n, that's not the point, you said you would be there and I wanted you there. You didn't need to study for your exam, you've been studying all week, this is all I asked of you and you couldn't even give me this." As he finished, you felt sorrow drain and anger rise.

"What exactly do you mean I didnt need to study for my exam? I have been studying all week, unlike you, because I care about getting good grades. You know how badly I need to do on my exams to have a future! I didnt go to your match, because I wanted to make sure I did well. I apologized but now your being irrational." He scoffed.

"Irrational? I asked one thing of you, I asked you to attend a quiditch match to support your boyfriend, but apparently if it doesn't benefit you, it doesn't matter, huh is that it?" You were now fully screaming at each other, thank god the hallway was deserted.

"Are you serious? You know maybe if you cared more about your future and grades like I do, you would see where I'm coming from, but all you care about is a God damn match and dragons! No wonder we've been like this for months. You say im selfish, I've done everything for you. I miss one thing and the worlds over to you." Charlie turned away and scoffed.

"You're right, we have been like this for a long time, because we just don't work anymore." You froze. "Y/n, you can't even support your own boyfriend, you care more about tests than anything, this clearly isn't working." You looked at him while a tear rolled down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away. You didn't want to break up with Charlie, God no. But he didn't seem to want to stay together.

"Charlie, it's not like that, you know how stressed I've been, I'm sorry I didn't come to your game, I truly meant to go. I care a lot about my future, but you don't and thats not on me. You can't put this on me, its not just the match, you've been like this ever since the dance, its not only me." More tears rolled down your cheeks as one slid out from his eye.

"Y/n, this just isn't working, I'm sorry." No, God no please.

"Charlie, no, please, don't do this. I swear I-" he cut you off.

"I'm sorry, its already done." He turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in an empty corridor, feeling your heart leaving your soul. You don't know how it happened, you don't know where it went wrong. Was it truly the match? Or was it ever since the day of the dance? Did he even ever like you?

As you stood in that corridor, you felt cold, you felt like you soul left you. You watched him walk away and eventually out of eyesight, thinking about how you would never feel his kiss again, never feel the comfort of his embrace, never feel his love again.

You didn't want this, God no, but your gut told you it had to happen, you just wish it didn't hurt this much. As you wrapped your arms around yourself and sank to the floor with tears on your face, you felt nothing but hollow, wishing the presence of charlie was still there. Wishing he could hold you and tell you he loved you again, as you loved him still.

You didn't know how you were going to go on without him, but you knew one thing for sure, the last thing you cared about was your fucking grades, because you just lost the best thing in your life.

A/n: okay, sorry this took so long, I suck i know! Im sorry this was shitty, I will try to finish the series relatively soon, there will be 2 more parts. I hope you like it, thanks for reading!

[highladyofprythian]

Rhys picking Feyre up from univesity drabble

Thus Prythian was split into the seven courts…

When my eyes flutter open, the words in front of me are distorted, on the verge of blurry with my face pressed against the pages. There’s a sharp pain in the back of my neck and my thighs ache from sitting for so long.

Sitting up, I groan as I stretch out my legs, pulling my head to one side to relieve the pain there. Even still, the left side of my face is numb from being pressed against the table’s surface for so long. I scan the library quickly, my Fae ears not picking up the sounds of other students. Odd, considering I only started reading just as the sun went down, the library full of other students. But now, only the soft creek of settling floorboards and my breathing can be heard.

The room is dark, my faelight burnt down to embers, barely enough light to see three feet in front of me, let alone navigate the expansive library. Sighing, I stand up, willing my exhausted magic to fill the faelight again, just enough to guide me and pack my things away.

I pack my book away into the leather rucksack Rhys gifted me last Solstice, along with the charcoal pencils and paper scattered around. Studying, I’ve found, has left me prone to doodling while I concentrate. Little images of flowers, Nyx’s eyes, utterly random shapes. It’s difficult to sit idle, while some ancient wizened Fae drones on in the front of a grand lecture hall about the trade routes between Courts.

The clock chimes in the silence, frightening me so much I jump, pencils clattering to the floor. Grumbling, I bend to retrieve them, but snap back up when I only hear three chimes. Three? But-

Wildly, I whip my head around, determined that other students only left to eat dinner… I couldn’t have been asleep that long. But again, I hear nothing.

I’ve been asleep for hours… oh gods, Nyx.

I tug hard on the bond between Rhys and I, not caring if I wake him from sleep. I need to know if my son is ok.

Good morning, Feyre darling, his voice thick with sleep drawls in my head.

Before I can ask him, he calms my racing thoughts, my shield falling from my panic and lack of proper sleep. The baby is fine, he fell asleep hours ago. As did you, clearly. His dark laughter fills my head, only irritating me further.

You didn’t think to wake me up? I snap at him.

Couldn’t disturb you being so studious, now could I? His tone is amused as he goes on, And besides, I am capable of parenting our child without you.

I soften, melting at the image Rhys sends me of Nyx cradled in his arms, his head resting against Rhys’ bare chest as he bottle feeds him.

I hope you ate too, High Lord. I gripe back, still irritated with him. The stress of the baby’s birth and potential fallout with Autumn has put Rhys on edge, falling back into bad habits of forgetting to eat his meals.

Of course, High Lady. Couldn’t risk falling asleep in my study with the baby home. Infinitely amused, he continues to make fun of me.

If I remember correctly, you were the one to encourage me to attend university. Such is the life of a poor student… I lament, matching his dramatics.

If only because the thought of you sitting in a lecture halls and writing essays does wicked things to me.

What doesn’t? I retort, sending him a rude gesture down the bond. He just laughs, thinking of more creative uses for my hand.

Pig, I say as I finally find my pencil and tie my rucksack together. The faelight follows me as I walk out the grand double doors to the library, illuminating the path ahead.

You love it, his voice and my feet padding along the marble flooring the only sounds to be heard. Truly I somehow managed to sleep through students leaving for dinner, chatting amongst themselves. Even the Fae who do nightly patrolling of the library.

I doubt even the toughest of security guards would want to wake the High Lady, says Rhys. This late at night, I don’t bother putting up my shields, enjoying the simply intimacy of Rhys hearing my thoughts, sharing each moment with me. Even I don’t dare to do that, he continues.

I snort aloud, startling myself. Only when you wake me up creatively… I send him an image of us, him beneath the sheets, my hands gripping the pillow beneath my head.

I don’t think the guards would wake you up quite like that, his mental voice is a little strained. I can see through his eyes that he’s sat up in bed, the sheets pooled around his hips, revealing only a tantalizing shadow but no more.

I follow the path down the winding stairs, the sconces along the stone walls are blown out for the night, the gentle gold of the faelight flickering. The history in these walls is deep, thousand of years of Fae scholars shared this space, writing laws that still preside of Prythian today. Rhysand’s own family, High Lord’s of Night Court past sheltered together, the wards of Velaris being set up as they studied through the night.

And a painting comes to mind, of ancient Fae, gathered in a library of old, heads bent together, scroll after scroll of lore and history being recorded. One day, Rhys himself will stand beside them.

I like to think I’m not stuffy and old yet, darling. His voices brings me back, and I’m greeted by the sight of the university’s large, ornate double doors shut to the elements, no light peeking through the wood.

Yet? Says the five-hundred-year-old with bad knees, I tease as I pull on the large, iron door handle. Amongst the alumni it’s said that the iron handles and sconces were built into the building to ward away evil Fae spirits. However I, and other students have far fonder memories attached. And I’m reminded of my first week here, students rushing past me, completely bare as they ran through the ancient hallways, attempting to touch each piece of iron before their competitors, to then be greeted by a slew of cheers and applause when they completed the course. Even I partook in the spirit of unvieristy, and I’m blushing just thinking about it again.

Shame I wasn’t there, Rhys says, showing me a picture of his own days in the university. A buck-naked Illyiran warrior flouncing down the hallways, outrunning everyone, of course.

I could say the same. Though I don’t think we would’ve studied well together. The heavy doors open to an inky black night, the snow on the ground stark white in contrast.

“Considering your success at reading, I think we would have made exceptionally good study partners.” Rhys’ midnight voice floats through the air, making me jump again.

I huff at him, “You scared me! What are you doing up?” And another more pressing thought, “Who’s minding the baby?” I begin to run towards the river house, though the jog across from the university to the house would take thirty-minutes by foot.

Rhys behind me laughs, and I hear his wings flare wide before he takes me in his arms, pushing off the ground and up, up into the night sky. The air rushes past my face and I revel in the sensation, loving the icy cold against my faelight warmed skin.

Once we find a cruising altitude, Rhys answers me. “Mor is at the house, he’s fast asleep.” His voice caresses my neck and I shiver, though not from the cold. “And I’m here to pick up my star-pupil, lest she fall asleep on herself mid-flight. Again.”

“I had just had a baby! Your baby! And I didn’t fall asleep I simply closed my eyes.”

“And careened straight into a tree.”

I whack my palms against his chest in retaliation, but he’s not wrong. I was only two months post birth and pelvic-reconstruction. I needed to simply pick up something from the market and Rhys was out on business. So, I shifted into my wings and took flight; but that evening Nyx had been up crying and I only managed to sleep for an hour before he was up, happily chatting his baby nonsense about the sun being in the sky once again. I had closed my eyes briefly… and both Rhysand and Azriel still make fun of me. Azriel more so, between fits of chuckling telling me ‘I thought I trained you better than that,’.

I nestle into his arms, sleep clouding my eyes once again, but even after two years, the sight of candle-lit Velaris twinkling against the night sky, cradled betwixt the mountain rages, makes me sigh in wonder, never wanting to close my eyes.

“Sleep, Feyre. You have an early lecture in the morning, wouldn’t want the Professor to catch you drooling on the table.”

I snort weakly, partially asleep once again. “Reminiscing about your own days at university, old man?” His laugh rumbles in his chest, lulling me fully into sleep.

When we land, I wake just enough to kiss Nyx’s little forehead while he sleeps soundly before Rhys picks me up again, places me on our bed and I dream of Rhys after his first war, young by Fae standards, studying the night away in the very same library I slept.  

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

ooo if youre willing you could maybe write about the first kiss or first confession or both (pardon my greedy self) either is fine id love to see more moriarty x reader. THANK YOUU

Im sorry the waiting! Albert's part will be on another publication as it didn't fit inside this one

William

The music and the chatter of the nobles was obnoxious at best and the ship moved a bit too much to your liking

" Could you remind me why we are acting as a couple for this mission? As far as I remember moneypenny could act this part flawlessly and I could be staying home today" you questioned williams while still hooked to his arm

" Miss Moneypenny is a busy person, she isn't available all the time. You on the other hand…" williams didn't seem like he thought too much about your question, mesmerized by the stairs

" Williams james moriarty,Are you suggesting I do nothing all day long?!" You whisper-yelled at him. You weren't in a great mood that day. first, moran dirtied the dress you wanted to use and had to do some needle work with another dress for it to look good enough, but then louis had tripped and spilled tea in the dress you just fixed and had to go buy another dress at last minute with the only person available, williams who seemed specially picky about the dress

" You know that isn't what I wanted to say, why don't you go for a drink?" Williams suggested, hoping the walk would calm you down and you left looking like you were ready to bite someone's head off if they talked to you.

" He is a mathematician"

By the time you reached the table you couldn't hear them anymore but you could see them, the boy seemed like the type to show off often but over all he looked like a good boy. What stung your heart a little were the pretty girls who were by them, even if your relationship was only for this case your crush for Williams was true. When you thought of him falling in love with you it seemed impossible but when you were changed by one of the girls it seemed more likely that you wanted to admit.

" Well, he should get a girlfriend and see if I care" you started drinking from the champagne glasses the waiters were giving ' where did he find such a pretty ring? I know he wants to make this look real but this seems like a bit too much, how much did it cost even?' You thought while looking at the ring in your left hand, a red diamond in a gold band. After finishing one glass of champagne you left it on a tray and grabbed another two.

You were making your way to williams' side " Liam, I brought some champagne, do you want?" You already were extending your arm to give it to him " could you introduce me to your acquaintance here?"

" He is a detecti-" williams said but was cut

" You can call me sherlock young lady~" sherlock introduced himself holding your hand and kissing it and smiling " a single detective who may be looking for a roommate"

"Hahaha, for now I'm an engaged woman" you let go of his hand and got closer to fix his tie"but ask me again and I might say yes, darling"

Williams stepped in separating Sherlock from you " Well detective, I shall also try analyzing you" Williams said bringing a hand to his chin " you look like you play violin, but not necessarily a musician. You seem to be in a good physical state and... prefer hand to hand combat " he stepped ahead to inspect him closer " additionally you conduct science experiment but hate your own drug dependence" williams stared at his eyes before continuing " obviously a graduate from Oxbridge and, by the way you talk as if you know everything, you must be really proud of your background, mother specially"

" How did you know?" Sherlock kept looking in his eyes smiling coyly

"Isn't it obvious?" Shot back williams half smiling then he turned to you " why don't we go for some fresh air? Love " williams wrapped his arms around your waist and almost dragging you outside

"That wasn't necessary, williams" you fixed your skirt " what did you want to talk about?"

" I calculate in 15 minutes the main character will do his kill. As soon as I notify you go look for moran and fred and wait for the body to be thrown , did I make myself clear? You know where they are?" William fixed a hair behind your ear

" Yes, williams" you rested against a wall " but there is still some time, why did you have to whisk me away,I was having fun"

" We are married, those types of comments shouldn't be made in public or in any case should be directed to me" he stood by your side while looking at the moon

" Cut me some slack, he would have taken it as a joke so no harm was made! Plus this marriage isn't going to last longer than this trip" you sighed

Williams looked at you " this trip?"

"As soon as we finish this mission we won't be a pair 'help me kill this noble' you said' you toyed with the ring

" Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. We are married for this case, and the next, and the following, to the end of this year and the next and the following years" he propped on his arm " did I explain myself correctly this time"

" You can't just decide that by yourself "

" But you are in love with me, I didn't think you would have anything against the arrangement. Plus in your diary you didn't seem too disgusted by the idea"

You jumped " you read my diary?!"

Williams laughed softly " not really, I was just theorizing but it seems like I was right" your face felt hot " so? Are you going to accept my proposal this time"

" No" you said sharply

" Do you think i don't like you?"

"Mhn"

"I really like you."

" Yeah, sure" you turned around and entered the ship but he grabbed you by the wrist and kept you close

" I love you. I truly do, from your dreamy eyes in the morning, to your stupid mannerisms when you are nervous or I get too close, how you always make a point to help the others when they are in need." Williams seemed really composed and confident in himself when he started but as he went on his voice slightly cracked.

Williams pressed your foreheads together and you kissed him wrapping your arms around his neck. For a second he didn't know how to answer the unexpected kiss but he grabbed your head to deepen the kiss. After you two had to stop kissing you were trying to catch your breath while looking at each other

" Yo, lovebirds, are you done? The main character already went to his room with the dude"

You almost killed moran that night

louis

"Letter for miss YN" the lady's handmaid stood by her side handing a little envelope closed with a crimson wax seal

"I'm busy right now, put in on the desk"

" You told me to notice you in case of a letter arriving from the moriarty house" YN turned her neck so fast lily feared she would have whiplash "but it seems you are too busy now, i will have to set it aside-"

" Give me!" YN practically jumped over the maid but she dodged the lady " who sent it? What does it say?"

The older woman giggled and turned around" now I don't want to tell you!"

" Lily, you are mean! At least tell me what it says"

The short woman read the letter, it was short and straightforward. "It seems the duke Moriarty has asked for your presence at his manor, the reason is simply put as 'an old business we left unfinished."

" Lily pack your things up, we are going to stay for sometime time"

" As you wish"

And some hours later the two women had each one two suitcases and were ready to board the carriage that was decorated with the noble's family emblem.

" Milady I will have to stop at one business before going to the manor" despite the young lady disliking the formal way of talking towards her she brushed it aside given that the coachman could hear the maid talk in an 'improper' way that could bring her troubles

" You are stopping by the dressmaker?"

" Indeed, I might need a few favors that she owes me"

" Should I send the carriage for you before tea or after?"

"There will be no need, I am going to return on my own accord"

The rest of the trip was dead silent, either of them wished to speak nor needed to, as they understood each other without the need to break the beautiful silence that surrounded them.

They arrived at the first stop, a dirty corner where there are a lot of signs, ones promoting hair medicine, others for brothels and some others about the ale that came to the nearest bar. That lily insisted on coming was making her go crazy

" Are you sure you need to do this now? We could go tomorrow morning at broad daylight" Lily didn't even listen to her Lady's complains as she dragged her skirts out of the carriage and grabbed her baggage

" Madam, I was raised here, nothing bad will happen. Don't worry" her smile and voice was comforting to certain point but it didn't ease the belief that she was lying to calm the younger woman down a little

" Please take care. I'll meet you at the moriarty state"

And so the trip began again and she let herself daydream. wondering why did the moriarty call for her presence, the ways she helped them didn't call for her to be near, did someone catch them and needed to run away? Or to fake one of their deaths? The possibilities worried her to the point of neglecting the reality.

It was a few minutes before the clock striked eleven that the coachman snapped YN out of her trance.

" We arrived" the old man didn't meet her eyes as he announced the end of the trip

" Thank you very much, sir" YN rushed to thank the old man before taking her suitcase and carry the leathery case to the main door

Letting the leather of her suitcase hit the ground she sighed and leaned back looking at the lion knocker and knocking twice. After a few minutes she was getting impatient and took the key from the envelope, good thing they sent a replicate.

Stepping inside and leaving her baggage by the door YN wondered inside the house, the card told her to settle down and choose one room by her own of there was nobody there

" Hello? Albert? Louis? Williams? Is anybody home?" And turning one corner you could see a beautiful flight of stairs

" Oh miss? I didn't know you would be coming" louis was standing on top of the stairway rest with a broom

" I received a letter asking for me to stay for a time" she looked around, wondering if they were alone" Your brothers?"

" They went to arrange the new show, another homicide noble. As always" louis resumed his work cleaning the stairs " please make yourself home and choose a room, all the guest rooms in the left hallway are clean and weren't chosen by anyone yet"

Yn stood at the bottom of the stairs "They left you to clean all of this alone? They are so mean."walking up the stairs to louis and taking the broom out of his hands she smiled at him "You know what? Lily has to arrange some things so let me help you clean"

" You don't really have to, i can take care of this" louis tried to take the broom from your hands but YN hugged it closer to her chest

" It wasn't a proposal. It was a fact" and she turned around leaving her back facing louis

Louis looked incredulous that YN would be so childish given her usual proper behavior " YN I have to clean. Can I-" and he tried to take it away from from her but she hit them away

" No!" And she skipped the steps from the stairway rest to the second floor " catch me if you can~" the woman teased him in a singsong voice before starting running.

Louis was astonished for a second before he began chasing after her " miss! I really want to end the stairs before dinner"

The chase didn't last long as the lady tripped with the red carpet and fell over a sofa. Louis knelt down next to her

" Are you going to give me the broom now? As much as I love you and this game of cat and mouse I have to finish cleaning the stairs. So give it to me"

The young woman weighed her options before smiling devilishly " Let's trade!" And she sat while keeping the broom close to her " One kiss and i return your broom"

Louis sat down and sighed defeated " you truly aren't going to give. up are you?" He was met with a little denial sound

" It isn't as if this was the first time we did it"

" One kiss and you will let me keep doing my job?"

" Yes"

Given the positive he wanted louis got near and grabbed her cheeks. After looking in her expectant eyes, Louis felt his face getting hotter the closer he got. It wasn't until YN could feel his breath on her soft skin that she feared he would pass out from embarrassment.

What seemed like minutes passed by and either of them moved, he was too mesmerized by her and she was taken by the look in his eyes. A few more seconds elapsed before YN started getting impatient leading to her to take the lead, grabbing both of his cheeks and guiding his face to her own.

Her lips brushed against his, softly and slowly before 'changing her mind' and returning to her place, teasingly looking up at him through her eyelashes, waiting for Louis to deepen the kiss. thing that didn't work out the planned way and ended up with louis hitting both of their noses. Louis almost died of embarrassment there

" If you didn't want to kiss just say so" she teased while playing with a lock of her hair, her nose slightly red

" It has been a while since we kissed" louis turned his head so yn couldn't see his blush " I am not accustomed to it"

" Then we should make you get used to it-" Louis was looking like an expectant dog, waiting for the kiss. " Later. I'm going to choose a room right now" and YN walked towards the stairs to go down

" YN" louis called out her name. The woman turned around. This time, Louis grabbed her head and kissed her, way rougher and sloppy than the first one but a kiss at the end.

One of her hands ended on his hair, lightly playing with it, with the other one on his chin, helping him position his head correctly. The kiss was inexperienced and messy but it was their reunion kiss, the first one in two years, filled with joy and relief of finally being together at last

When the kiss ended louis was out of breath and his hair looked a bit unkempt, even when he could barely talk he asked her

" Are you going to leave me again?"

" Louis" YN's eyes were filled with love " i don't plan on going anywhere soon" and she hugged him

He returned the hug with his arms around her hips " good, i wasn't planning on letting you go anywhere either way"

[scrunchyharry]

RIP WIP: if you see this post, respond with a snippet of a fic you (sadly) won’t be completing.

So, this inspired me to go through my google drive and unearth this fic that I’ll most likely never finish. I haven’t touched it since March 2014, so, you know. I might as well have not written it myself.

meet this 1950s, Oxbridge, shy librarian worker meets bad boy AU that almost was. the title of this google doc was “kill your darlings - library sexcapades”, so you can see where my mind was. I was in library school, I’d just gone to see Kill Your Darlings in theatres, it was so predictable, really. reading through it earlier, I realize that I used many of the underlying ideas I had for this fic in fondre ton absence, which I first started only two months after I abandoned this one (and I only posted it in 2019, I know.)

I abandoned it because, if I remember correctly, it was only my second ever historical AU (the first one wasn’t in this fandom, it’s a glee fic, if you bully me enough I can provide a link) and I really, really struggled with it, not only with keeping it free of anachronisms, but also relevant to 1950s British culture rather than American culture, which I am more familiar with as a Canadian. I vividly remember panicking when I couldn’t figure out if Brits went bowling in the 1950s, or even now???? we had different problems in ye olde days before the pandemic, hm?

now, of course, I’ve come to love the pain of researching historical AUs, it’s literally the only thing I’ll write, but 6 years ago was a different story. also, I’m not in grad school anymore, so I have more free time. this helped a lot with fleshing out my fics, this whole “no longer being in university” thing (that I say while being 5 years out of university and now only posting a single fic per year).

anyway. enough from me. here’s the fic. it’s 6500 words long and stops abruptly.

Lying awake in his bed, Harry listened to the steady pitter-patter of the rain hitting the windowpane, the yellow streetlamp outside his dormitory room’s window casting distorted shadows on the floorboards as it filtered through the water running down the glass and the sheer curtains. On the other side of the room, Niall was fast asleep, his breathing regular and slightly wheezing from the cold he’d caught playing football out in the rain the day before. Every six or seven inhale, he’d snore loudly, rousing Harry from the half-sleep he had managed to slip into. Staring at the ceiling, Harry was trying to tell the shadows of the bare tree branches from the cracks in the off-white plaster. The room smelled dank like the rest of the building, the wood creaking and beads of water oozing from the walls from the rain that had been plaguing them for close to a week.

Harry turned on his side, wincing as his joints ached in the cold, humid air of the room, Niall’s congested nose asking for the window to be left ajar, which only let more humidity in. His bedsheets were moist and stuck to his skin in a way that made him feel queasy and promised to rob him of sleep for the entire night.

From somewhere down the hall came a peal of laughter, the sound piercing through the still night air and drifting to Harry’s ears. The sound was almost comforting, breaking through the oppressing bubble of his insomnia to remind him that he was not stranded, or alone. There were other people alive, other people asleep in the rooms next and above and below his, and the sun would rise even if it was behind grey clouds, and not being able to sleep was not the end of the world, no matter how it felt as he lay in his bed, restless and exhausted. 

He reached for his alarm clock, the bells quietly chiming as he moved it, and he frowned when he saw that it was half past three. He had to be up in four hours, hours which he knew he wouldn’t sleep. With a final sigh and a resentful glance at the sprawled shape of Niall, Harry rolled out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown, a plaid atrocity his sister had given him as a joke two Christmases past. 

The hallway was quiet as he made his way down to the creaking staircase, holding on to the railings as he went down so his slippers didn’t skid on the polished wood. He nodded at the night guardian reading a library copy of A Christmas Carol, his feet up on the desk by the double, windowed entrance doors.

“I’ve still got two more days to read this, haven’t I?” the man asked, lowering the book to squint at Harry in the dimness of the hallway.

“Three, sir,” Harry replied, hands deep in the pockets of his robe and shoulders slumped forward as a shiver ran through him. He could smell the fireplace burning from the common room and yearned to reach it soon. 

“Greg, give Harold a break, will you? He’s not working right now,” Zayn said, appearing out of the dark hallway and stopping by Harry’s side. “It’s already tedious enough to watch you read a Christmas novel in November, don’t make it worse on us by bothering poor Harry here about his job in the middle of the night.”

With a wink to Harry, Zayn dropped a pack of cigarettes on the guardian’s desk before walking past him again, back where he had come from, a quick nod inviting Harry along. He followed and closed thankful eyes as he crossed the common room’s threshold and was met by a wall of warm, dry air.

“Liam’s nicked logs from the hall across campus,” Zayn explained as he slouched in an armchair by the fire.

“Bless him,” Harry said, sitting opposite Zayn, close to the hearth. He extended his feet and let the flames warm them, feeling as if every crackle eased his weariness from the past few days.

September had been a neverending blur of mixers and social events to try and make friends as quickly as possible before it was too late and you were relegated to the ranks of social outcast. By the time October rolled by, Harry had managed to be late in all of his classes and had found himself locked in the library even when he did not have to work, his entire universe reduced to the dusty smell of books and ushed voices whispering about classnotes and midterms. On most nights he had to stay up well into the early hours, the grey light of dusk filtering through his foggy mind like through dirty glass as he tried to read three novels at once. Now that midterms were over, he had hoped he might be able to sleep while he counted down the days until finals, but he had managed to well and truly mess up his sleep rhythm. 

“No offence, mate, but you look like shit,” Zayn commented after a while, startling Harry out of his most-welcomed doze. 

Rubbing his eyes, Harry let out a small laugh. “Can’t sleep.”

“I know a guy--”

“No, thanks,” Harry cut him, not unkindly. 

Zayn always knew a guy, who knew a guy, whose brother could get you whatever you needed. He himself took nothing, keeping a record as straight as his ridiculously white teeth; scholarship kid, they said. Harry knew better than that, because he was one himself and had never seen Zayn at any of the disastrous mixers the financial aid office tried to organize. Besides, scholarship students were expected to work on campus, which Zayn did not do. He always seemed to be drifting from place to place, black hair carefully styled so that a swirl appeared to carelessly fall on his forehead and jacket nonchalantly hanging off his shoulder like something out of a magazine, without a care in the world. Harry figured it was the sort of attitude you had to adopt when you had a name like Zayn Malik. Not that Harry gave a damn about any of that, but, to put it mildly, it was not because people were quick to point a finger at Germany for what they had let happen that they were willing to face their own ignorance. In short: people whispered, and all of this despite the thick Northern accent that surprised the wits out of Harry the first time he heard it come out of Zayn’s mouth.

“It’s not healthy, though, is it? You should go see a nurse or something about it, you can die from sleep deprivation.”

Blinking slowly, Harry stared at his oldest friend on campus silently for a moment. “I hope you never make it into medical school, you’re going to be a shit doctor. ‘You can die from sleep deprivation,’ you tell the insomniac at four in the morning.” With a long sigh, Harry shook his head. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Zayn laughed. “Don’t worry, mate, I’ve heard worse. Have you met Louis?”

Harry rolled his eyes at Zayn. “Yes,” he replied despite knowing that this was a rhetorical question. “I know Louis.”

He shifted in his seat. Mentions of Louis had the pesky side-effect of making Harry’s stomach churn uncomfortably. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the curls as he yawned. He watched as Zayn light a cigarette and shook his head when offered one, instead pulling his legs up on the chair and curling up in it, arms wrapped around his knees. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m still up at this hour?” Zayn asked after discarding his cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

Tearing his eyes from the fireplace, Harry blinked slowly at him. “Do you want to tell me?”

Flashing him a wicked grin, Zayn winked. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Harry rolled his eyes again. “I should have seen this one coming.”

“But you didn’t and that’s why we love you, Harold.” Zayn stretched and got up, picking his jacket off the back of the armchair and shrugging it on. “With this, I’m off to bed.” With a pat to Harry’s head, he headed out of the room.

“Goodnight!” Harry called after him before turning back to the fire, resting his chin on his knees with a sigh.

Harry considered following after Zayn for a moment, but the thought of his cold room made him wince. Instead, he carefully placed more wood into the hearth and pulled the armchair closer. He wrapped his dressing gown tighter around himself and then closed his eyes, turning his face to the warmth with a smile as his thoughts drifted through his memories.

The first time he had seen Louis did not technically count as the first time he had met him. His first glimpse of him had been a fleeting one: a knock at the door of his room and the flash of a crooked grin before a sharp voice called Niall out and the door slammed shut. It had been a whirlwind of sights and sounds, there and gone in a matter of seconds, and promptly discarded as one of Niall’s many boisterous friends.

The first time he met Louis, on the other hand, had made a much stronger impression. Harry had been working the counter at the library, alternating between reading a novel he kept hidden under the desk and staring off into space, eyes on the specks of dust as they drifted through the sunbeams pouring in from the tall windows. It had started with a gust of autumn wind sweeping into the room as someone threw opened the heavy oaken doors, causing the occupants of the library to look around in disgruntled curiosity. Harry himself had found himself craning his neck to try and see who was the utter idiot who was entering a library like it was a barn.

Louis had come running at top speed, muddy wingtips squeaking and skidding on the linoleum and his opened jacket flying behind him. He braced himself on a table as he took a sharp turn to the left and headed towards the counter, vaulting it and crouching down before Harry could stop him. He had stared down at him silently, blinking slowly, until the boy had pulled him down by the front of his shirt so he would kneel next to him.

“You can’t stay here,” Harry had said lamely, feeling ashamed of the yelp he had let out as he looked at the red-faced, breathless boy still holding his shirt in his fist.

“Hi, I’m Louis,” the boy had said, letting go of his shirt to extend his hand for Harry to shake.

“You can’t stay here,” Harry had repeated, ignoring his hand. “And I’m Harry.”

“I know,” Louis had replied, smirking. “So, I may or may not have dressed the statue outside the principal’s office in a dress. And I may or may not be currently running away from the school security.” He had paused to look up at Harry with big, pleading eyes. “My life depends on you, Harry. Please, hide me.”

“You--what? Why would you do that?”

Louis had squinted at him, an amused smile playing on his lips. “For fun?”

“Well, you can’t stay here, we--”

Louis had shut him up with a hand over his mouth. “Please, Harold. I’ll owe you one.”

“No, I mean, there’s--” Harry had mumbled against his hand, eyes darting to the top of the heads of the guardians he could see coming closer to the counter.

“Harry Styles, I am begging you, please let me hide here.”

Prying Louis’ hand away, Harry had rolled his eyes. “Shut up and listen to me, there are two guards coming over here right now, you need to run.” He wouldn’t be able to tell what took him, but had he found himself adding, in a quick whisper, “I’ll distract them. Go.”

Louis had grabbed Harry’s face to plant a loud, wet kiss on his cheek before repeating in a rush that he owed Harry his life and running back the way he had come.

A month had gone by since their meeting and Harry still winced with embarrassment when he thought back to it. He had looked like a proper fool in front of Louis, who, it turned out, was friends with all of his friends. He always turned up, no matter what they were doing or where they were going, teasing and joking and mocking, always constantly there in Harry’s peripheral vision. He was a third year, the rumour was that he had the lowest average in the history of the university (which made no sense, considering he still managed to pass his classes; besides, Harry had checked in old yearbooks during a quiet afternoon in the library and had found that a certain Lionel Hearst allegedly had the lowest average back in 1931--chances were that each year had their own Lionel Hearst, and the class of 1954 had elected Louis Tomlinson as theirs), and he was quite possibly the most annoying person Harry had ever met.

And there was another problem, a massive one that was threatening to destroy Harry’s sanity: he was gorgeous. Not your inoffensive “I can recognize that, objectively, Humphrey Bogart and James Dean are attractive males”, which Harry could very easily and comfortably live with. No, Louis was the kind of gorgeous that had poisoned Harry’s mind until it was all his twisted mind could conjure whenever he had what a psychology textbook he found in Liam’s room had called ‘nocturnal emissions’. 

When combined, Louis’ irritating personality and Harry’s inability to get him out of his head were a dangerous mix. One that he never missed an opportunity to use, because on a misguided evening, Harry had made the mistake to go out with Niall and had tragically confessed, over his fourth pint, that he was having unbecoming thoughts about Louis. The news had obviously rapidly travelled all the way to Louis’ ears and now it seemed he had made it his mission to make sure Harry never lived his shameful infatuation down.

Not to mention that, well, he was a boy infatuated with another boy. The same psychology textbook had told him that what he was had a name, and that it was diagnosable, and thus curable, but Liam had walked back in before Harry could read exactly what they meant by ‘aversion therapy’. He hadn’t dared ask Liam, not while Louis was sprawled on his bed, smoking with slow drags and slower exhales, winking at Harry whenever their eyes met. 

Louis had asked what Harry was reading and he had mumbled something about insomnia (which had been his first goal, mind you) and a wicked grin had appeared on Louis’ face.

“You were reading about paraphilias, weren’t you, you naughty boy? Which one was your favourite? I’m quite fond of homosexuality myself.”

Zayn had thrown a wrinkled jacket at Louis at that, saving Harry the embarrassment of having to reply by saying through a laugh: “The shit that comes out of your mouth is astounding.”

“It’s not shit! What’s it classified under, again? Payne, help me out.”

Reciting dully, as if he was used to the question - and Harry suspected he was - Liam had rolled his eyes. “Sexual deviations are under personality disorders of the sociopathic subtype.”

“Thanks, mate. I didn’t understand half the words in there, but I like the ring of ‘sociopathic’, don’t you? It makes it sound so dangerous, so ‘I will kill you in your sleep and then shag your corpse’.”

“Someone’s won the roommate lottery,” Niall had said, earning himself a slap upside the head from Liam. 

This particular exchange, and more specifically the image of Louis talking about sexual deviations while lying on a bed like some sort of caricature of a French painting, was running through Harry’s sleep deprived mind as he hurried to his morning class under the cold drizzle that had replaced the rain. He had managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, but had woken up when the fire was out and the room had turned frigid. Going back to his room, he had collapsed on his bed, only to hear his alarm clock ringing what felt like three minutes later. And now, as he hurried up to the fourth floor on the slippery stairs, he realized with a groan he had forgotten to do the assigned readings for the class.

He took his usual seat near the centre of the lecture hall, unpacking his notebook and fiddling with his pen to keep his mind busy and, more importantly, awake. A three hour lecture on Shakespeare was the last thing he needed at the moment, his eyes unable to focus on the board for more than a handful of seconds before they closed heavily, his entire body jerking back as he drifted to sleep and started to fall forward.

The door opened loudly and Harry didn’t have to look to know who had just entered. He always banged doors opened, making his entrance known as if his presence itself wasn’t enough to get him noticed.

“Harold!” Louis’ voice echoed around the half-empty hall, off the wood-panelled walls and the high, off-white ceiling. He was holding a notebook in his hand, the poor thing in tatters like most of what Louis owned. The usual swirl of hair was falling on his forehead, disheveled in a way that felt more genuine than Zayn’s calculated styling, with the sides ruffled and looking mostly unkempt.

Harry waved at him, shifting in his seat as he watched Louis climb the steps up to where he was sitting and make his way to the empty chair next to Harry. He rubbed his eye and braced himself for the tornado of Louis’ personality.

“Hi, Louis,” he said once Louis was settled. “How are you?”

“I’m brilliant. My day’s always off to such a good start when I get to see you first thing in the morning.” He patted Harry’s knee, a smirk on his lips. Harry swallowed around his dry throat. “You, on the other hand, look terrible.”

“Insomnia,” Harry replied with a shrug, stifling a yawn with his hand. “Nothing new.”

“Yeah, I see that, the bags under your eyes are terrifying.” 

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but then forgot to close it as Louis reached up and stroked a thumb under Harry’s eye, lightly touching the paper thin skin. He could wax lyrical about how soft Louis’ skin turned out to be, or how unexpected the touch was, but neither of those things would be right. The fact of the matter was that being touched, stroked, petted or any other synonym describing fond, affectionate physical contact were common when Louis was concerned. That did not mean that Harry was used to it, and he found himself freezing under Louis’ careful finger, his words dying in his throat. 

“It looks like you’ve got shiners,” Louis said, voice quiet and soft. “You have to take better care of yourself, Haz, or else someone will have to do it for you.”

Louis’ fingers were still lightly brushing his cheek, close to his ear, as his thumb moved back and forth, barely touching his skin, and Harry absolutely could not let out any sound resembling modern languages. Instead, he nodded, remembered to close his mouth, and cleared his throat to try and speak. All of his efforts were ruined when Louis patted his cheek and moved back, slipping lower in his seat and winking at Harry when their knees bumped.

Harry blinked to realize that the hall had filled while Louis was busy making him forget English. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket for his glasses and slipped them on, not missing the pleased noise Louis let out next to him. He glanced at him, frowning.

“Love the glasses, Harold.”

“Me too. They help me see.”

Harry did not particularly consider himself a religious man. He went to church when it mattered and tried not to do unto others what he would not want done unto him, but for the most part, he never really had God at the back of his mind whenever he did something. And yet, as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wondered what he had done to anger God. His eyes widened and he felt a blush blooming on his cheeks, his skin burning with the shame and embarrassment of his reply. They help me see, way to state the obvious, Styles. Louis was obviously flirting and the only thing he could come up with was bloody “they help me see.”

Louis let out a bark of laughter, pushing his knee against Harry’s. “Good for you, mate. You wouldn’t want to strain those pretty eyes of yours.”

The professor walking in and setting up his papers behind the lectern saved Harry from having to answer. Harry kept his eyes trained on the front of the class for the first hour of the lecture, pointedly ignoring Louis’ constant shifting and squirming around in his seat. Liam often asked if he had ants in his pants, which usually prompted Louis to let out a vulgar joke about what he did have in his pants. It was better if Harry ignored him, then. He was already struggling to keep up with the deadpan droning of their professor, he didn’t need to think about the way Louis’ thigh brushed against his every time he moved. 

The lightbulb closest to the door kept flickering, the rhythm varying from every other second to one every two or three minutes, and Harry found himself captivated by it. The ventilation buzzed in the background, a low metallic rumble pushing moist air into the suffocating hall. A strand of hair had escaped from his comb-over, falling into his eyes and curling from the humidity. He blew on it, watching it rise and fall and repeating the motion over and over again, until Louis elbowed him.

Harry turned to him, bracing himself for a witty remark that would turn him into a blubbering mess, but instead he was met with Louis’ profile, face set and serious as he had his hand raised in the air. Squinting, Harry turned to their professor in time to see him calling on Louis, who lifted his eyebrows, once, before an amused smile curled up his lips.

“Sir, there is something that has been bothering me since I read through the assigned pages last night. See, I can’t quite figure out what Shakespeare meant when he had Aufidius say: ‘Let me twine mine arms about that body, where against my grained ash an hundred times hath broke and scarr’d the moon with splinters,’ and then later when he adds: ‘but that I see thee here, thou noble thing! more dances my rapt heart than when I first my wedded mistress saw bestride my threshold.’”

Louis glanced up from the copy of Coriolanus opened in front of him, several lines underlined in blue ink, to give Harry a wink before looking back down and continuing.

“And when he writes: ‘thou hast beat me out twelve several times, and I have nightly since dreamt of encounters ‘twixt thyself and me; we have been down together in my sleep, unbuckling helms, fisting each other’s throat, and waked half dead with nothing,’ what I don’t understand, sir, is that it sounds to me like Aufidius is courting Marcius, doesn’t it? All this talk of,” Louis glanced down again, “nightly dreams of what sounds to me like some sort of wrestling? All of this leads me to think that there is a certain passion to Marcius and Aufidius’ relationship that you haven’t talked about, yet.”

Louis sat back in his seat, the line of his shoulders disagreeing with the look of candid innocence he had schooled his face into. The entire hall seemed to be waiting with baited breath for their professor’s response, the poor man looking terrified and offended and minuscule in his bulky tweed jacket. His lip quivered, making his grey, toothbrush moustache dance, and he narrowed his eyes at Louis.

“Ignoring Mr Tomlinson’s depraved mind, let’s have a short break. Class will resume in ten minutes.”

Chatter rose around them and Louis shook his head, a look of annoyed resignation on his face.

“I knew he’d do that. I bloody knew it. They’re always too stuck up to address the blatant homoeroticism of the material they assign us.”

Homoeroticism. The word rang in Harry’s ears, filling up his skull and flushing out everything else, leaving him with images of--with images of things he’d rather not put a name on. Of Louis’ lips as they curled into his trademark smirk, of Louis’ spread thighs as he lay on one of their beds, reading out loud from whichever book he had found on the bedside table, of Louis’ eyes and the way they had to always seek Harry’s, but also of older memories. Memories of swimming in a lake with his older cousin as a child and watching the drops of water running down his chest and shimmer in the sun. Locker room memories, a seemingly endless number of them, all strung one after the other in his mind like a neverending series of discomfort and shame as he caught glimpses of changing bodies. Memories of feeling wrong and twisted, an abomination that would bring shame to his family if he said anything.

There was a word for all this, a simple word which Louis uttered like it didn’t carry the weight of the world with it. A word which didn’t sound as ominous as the others did. That word wouldn’t be in Liam’s textbook. That word evoked ideas of art in Harry’s mind, not of therapy.

“Harold? Are you all right? I’ve lost you, here, haven’t I? Wake up, Styles, you’re not in your bed. I understand that it can be confusing for you right now because we all know you see me in your dreams, but--”

“That word you used,” Harry said, cutting him. He cleared his throat and decided it was better to ignore how accurate Louis’ teasing was.

“Which one? You’ll notice I speak quite a lot, so you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that.”

Lowering his voice, Harry leaned in. “Homoeroticism.”

“What about it?”

“It was the first time I heard it. I didn’t know it existed.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about.” Louis patted his thigh with a pout. “But don’t worry, I can teach you. I owe you one, remember?”

Harry let out a strangled noise and looked away so he would not have to see Louis’ smirk.

Harry spent the rest of the lecture in a haze, his mind preoccupied with what he tried so hard to ignore during the first half: Louis’ elbow brushing against his on the armrest, their knees bumping when he moved, the sound of his breathing, regular and deep, the way he tapped his pen against his notebook, the muscles in his forearm shifting as he took notes. By the time his torture was over, he realized with horror that he had not listened to a single word of the entire second half of the lecture and he bit his lip. 

“And they say I’m the worst student this school has ever seen,” Louis commented after seeing the blank page that Harry failed to hide.

“I couldn’t concentrate,” Harry explained as he packed his bag hastily and followed Louis to leave the lecture hall.

“You can borrow my notes, don’t worry.” Once out of the hall, Louis turned to walk backwards, eyes on Harry. “Why, though? Why was Harold Styles, scholarship student, not paying attention in class? Thinking about boys, maybe?”

Without thinking about it, Harry lurched forward to put his hand over Louis’ mouth. “Shut up,” he hissed.

Unfazed, Louis lowered Harry’s hand with his, his expression softening. “So, you were? This is an interesting turn of events.” Looking up at Harry, he frowned. “Oh, you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared.” At the sight of Louis raising his eyebrow in disbelief, Harry licked his lips. “I’m terrified.” He glanced around, feeling like all eyes were on the pair of them as they stood in the middle of the hallway and blocked the traffic.

Louis nodded and took Harry’s elbow, dragging him along and out of the building. Outside, pale rays of sunlight were peeking through the clouds and the air felt light for the first time in days. Harry tried to avoid the puddles covering the cobblestones while Louis kept pulling him along, mindful of keeping his socks dry even as an outrageously flirtatious man he barely knew was taking him somewhere unknown.

“Do you have work today?” Louis asked over his shoulder as they crossed the campus towards their dormitory.

“No. Where are we going?”

“My dorm.”

Harry stopped abruptly, causing Louis to stumble forward before he caught himself and turned. “Why?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to molest you.” Letting go of Harry’s arm, he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I just thought you’d prefer to talk about your innermost secrets in private. Assuming you want to talk about it?”

Harry looked down at Louis for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Louis held his gaze, eyes wide and earnest, almost begging for Harry’s trust. Gnawing at his lip, Harry breathed in sharply and nodded, making the jump, stepping off the edge of the metaphorical cliff and choosing to trust Louis.

A small smile appeared on Louis’ lips, more subdued than what Harry was used to see, and it warmed up the bottom of his stomach in a way that was not unpleasant.

“Very well. Let us be on our way, then.” 

A sense of dread descended upon Harry as they neared Louis’ room. His nerves were setting in, sparking up, exploding in bright flashes of what felt a lot like terror at the prospect of the conversation he was about to have and of its ramifications. Thinking it was one thing, admitting that he was thinking it was another, but voicing it was in the realm of impossibilities. The door shut behind them with a quiet click and then they were alone, shielded. Louis sat backwards on his desk chair and motioned for Harry to sit on his bed before he folded his arms and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Harry, tell me. How long have you known?” His voice was quiet and soft, so unlike Louis’ usual loud squawks that it eased Harry’s nervousness, if only partially. 

Harry found that he could not look at Louis’ face and he let his gaze drift to the wall behind him, hung with pennants in the colours of Liam’s favourite teams. He brought a hand up to scrape his teeth against the knuckle of a finger, a nervous habit he’d been trying to get rid off for years. He could feel Louis’ steady gaze on him and he swallowed thickly, breathing out.

“I don’t know.” He forced his eyes back on Louis, briefly, to see him frowning. “How long have you known?”

“That I’m gay?” Harry winced at the word and it made Louis smirk. “Summer 1943, there was this bloke billeted at a neighbour’s house. He’d pop by to play with my sisters and I some times and I’d seen him almost every day for months, but that one particular day, he helped my mother with gardening and took off his shirt because of the heat. It changed my life.” He chuckled and scratched his cheek. “I was twelve. I spent the entire day in my bedroom, watching him from the window, absolutely confused about what was happening. I thought I was ill.”

“What’d you do?”

Louis shrugged. “I masturbated, obviously. That was a first. What a day.”

Heat spread on Harry’s face, bright red spots blooming on his cheeks at the words, and he muttered a scandalized ‘oh, my god’ that made Louis laugh. 

“Have you never?” Louis asked, giving Harry a curious smile. “Have you really never touched yourself?”

Putting a hand over his eyes, Harry groaned. “Of course, I have, but I don’t talk about it with everyone,” he blurted out, ashamed.

“Why not? You have to stop listening to your minister, kid. It’s perfectly normal, everyone does it.”

Harry shook his head and wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. He could not remember having ever been as uncomfortable as he was in that instant. His nerves were raw and he felt too hot and too cold at the same time, safe and cloistered at once in the cramped dorm room. Looking at Louis, he found him observing him with a steady expression. Harry appreciated that he was not pushing for answers despite his obvious curiosity. He didn’t feel pressured to answer, but the possibility was there, hanging in the still, humid air between them. It was his choice to seize it and, with a shaky sigh, he did.

“I’ve always had, hum, suspicions that I wasn’t normal. I can’t--” he waved his hands around, “--put words on it, or tell you about specific incidents, but I’ve been having doubts since grammar school.”

“You’re normal.” There was an unexpected fire behind Louis’ words that made Harry frown.

“You can’t be serious. You heard Liam the other day, we’re sociopaths.”

Louis rolled his eyes, digging in his pockets for a cigarette. He placed it between his lips and cracked a match to light it, eyes on Harry through the rising smoke. “Do you feel like a sociopath?”

Harry shrugged. “Not particularly.”

Blowing smoke, Louis raised his eyebrows. “There you go. You’re not. Simple as that. Admitting a bloke needs to have his hands tied above his hands to be able to come, would you say he’s a sociopath?” When Harry shook his head, Louis continued. “But that’s still a paraphilia, ergo he’s mental. We’re not perverts, we just love differently. That’s how I see it, anyway.”

Harry licked his lips and nodded, transfixed by Louis’ verve. “And they say you’re the worst student of your year.”

Louis laughed, sharp and clear, smoke coming out of his nostrils. “I’ve had a bad freshman year and the reputation, sadly, stuck with me. Of course, I’m not a scholarship kid, so I don’t compare.” He winked a Harry.

“How do you know so many things about me? We’ve rarely spoken.”

Louis laughed again, but the sound was softer, more intimate, in an odd way. “Well...” He rubbed the back of his neck, discarding the butt of his cigarette in a dirty ashtray on his bedside table. “I asked around. You helped me a lot when you befriended Zayn.”

Harry shifted on the bed to rest his back against the wall, kicking his shoes off quickly to pull his knees up against his chest. “Why?”

Louis’ eyes widened, almost comically, before he shrugged. “Curiosity. You looked interesting.”

[ladymelissaduthe]

challenge #5 (part 2)

aka fireworks (aka clownery and delusions luv) 

a/n: i jwu after 3 hours of sleep and edited this. this is a particularly spicy one featuring Felicity and Arin. Full disclosure, I needed a drink to write like half of this RP AHAHHDKJNKD #dumbbitchjuice Thank you @arin-schreave and @/felicity-graham aka Anna for these RPs. I love you ma’m you’re doing amazing. Link is in the aka title as usual for the doc for easier reading. Enjoy the clownery of part 2 of the ball and keep your eyes peeled for part 3 (5845 words)

I give my laptop’s camera another twirl, seeing my Mama and Grammy’s jaws drop as I feel the weight of my gown catch what little air it could.

“Prettier than an orange blossom in your Papaw’s Orchard.” My Grammy’s voice rings from the speaker, her expression looking quite pleased with my dress.

I actually got ready faster than I thought it was gonna take me, my maids having done amazing fast work with my hair and make up. After they finished and fixed what they needed to fix, I had asked my maids for a moment to myself so I can videocall my family for this.

It was the first look anyone’s got of me in my dress, and I can’t help but smile at how beautiful it was.

“Blue really is your color darlin’.”

Blue, almost Lilac.

“You look every bit a princess should look.” My mama says as she seems to be leaning closer to their computer screen, probably to get a closer look.

When my name was announced a couple of months ago, I think the only person more excited than I was about the Selection was my Mama. It made her so proud that I had a chance of being a Princess, she told everyone in her circle of friends 5 minutes after I was called and was running around the house.

It reminded me of the days when I did those little pageants in Orleans. Mama was always so supportive with the dresses she made for me, teaching me how to walk and curtsey. She had dreams for me, that’s a fact I’ve known since I was tiny. Part of those dreams before was to settle down early before. Now I think she just wants me married.

“I was just talking with Betty, ya know your Aunt Betty, right honey? Anywhos, I was just talking with her about you and she was telling me how lovely you looked in your Selected pictures.” I hear Mama talk, going onto sharing how she was sharing with her friends about my experiences in the Selection—how far I’ve made it through. Saying that the prince must have definitely taken a liking to me.

Sometimes I wish I had the heart to tell her the truth.

Sometimes I worried about how she’d react if she found out that I cried after my first date with the prince, or what she’d say that I’ve only gone on one other date besides it.

I smile to her, smoothing down the embroidered blue fabric of my skirt, trying to play it coy.

Maybe it’s too early to tell her all of that.

“Well, Mama, I’m always trying to put my best foot forward.”

Not all hope was lost, things were progressing well with Arin at least. He wasn’t actually half-bad, if not just a little too serious. I was willing to wait and see this through, and I wasn’t going to give up on my chances with Arin or my chances of a fairytale.

“As you should! Oh honey, you’re never giving me all the details I wanna hear!” My Mama says before Grammy seems to push her to the side, which makes me giggle at the sight.

Grammy’s expression is a little funnier to see onscreen. “Oh, hush Caroline! Let the girl have a little privacy. She’s not 14 anymore, and you can’t spy on her from the living room window no more.”

I blink to the screen as I take a seat on my vanity, shaking my head at that memory.

I feel a small lump in my throat at another reminder that memory brings.

A day in the Spring, hot as ever in Orleans. 14 and feeling light as air as Daniel walked me back home from school, him holding a jacket over me to shield me from the sun and the heat— catching my mother’s eyes peaking through the curtains of one of windows.

“I digress, I digress. Can’t blame a mother being just a little curious with what her daughter’s been up to all the way in Angeles.” My mother says in her defense, and I force a smile onto my face again—swallowing that lump and pushing that memory to the back of my mind, putting it back in an imaginary box with Daniel’s name on it.

“A good southern woman doesn’t kiss and tell.” I reply before giving myself one last look into my mirror, smoothing my hair down and applying some perfume to my wrists, the scent of daisies filling the room. I tried to remain conscious of the time and my laptop’s clock was telling me that it time for me to make a move.

“Best think I should be heading down now. Wouldn’t wanna be fashionably late for the dinner.” I say to the camera, my eyes moving from my mirror to my screen to my mother and grandmother’s faces. Gosh, I still wish they were here with me right now.

“Be sure to smile for the cameras! Ah, I can’t wait to see all the pictures!”

“Don’t waltz all those boys into a stuper, Missy dear.” Grammy gives me a wink as she waves to the camera.

The corners of my mouth tilts up at the thought of dancing.

“I’ll call y’all tomorrow about what happens tonight. Give Daddy all my love when he gets home. Good night Mama, Good night Grammy!”  I say as my hand moves along the mouse pad to end the call, and I close my laptop. Turning my head as I hear a knock on my door.

Perfect timing.

My hand reaches to check my dress’ pocket if my emergency kit was inside and I feel the rectangular case in it already. Never gonna know what I’m going to need tonight.

I push my seat away from the desk and stand, walking over to my door opening it to find my escort on the other side of the door.

The walk to the Great Hall was actually quite exciting, my escort was a nice young fella named Phillip. Apparently, all the Selected ladies had a guard as their escort for the night—a welcomed part of the job according to him.

We converse a bit as we walk down and I hold onto his arm like any girl with an escort should. It actually reminded me of all the debuts and cotillions I attended and planned—even my own cotillion when I was 18. Those dances and events needed an escort too, and mine was always… the same person.

A small crowd started to form outside the dining hall, everyone looking finely dressed in their gowns and tuxedos. Some Selected girls, others were probably guests of the Royal Family.

I look around the crowd as my guard guides me close to the entrance, scanning for familiar faces amongst it.

We stop close to the entrance. Phillip says that he’ll be right back for me saying that he’ll just be double checking with another guard about the events of tonight and what time they’d start letting everyone into the hall for dinner. I give him a quick smile, nodding and still scanning the room.

Everyone looked so beautiful tonight. It made me want to sigh—this Ball was grander than anything I’ve ever attended or planned in the past. Oh gosh, I wonder what the Great Hall looked like right now since it was the night time.

As I look around, I realize the closest person to me was familiar.

Felicity Graham.

Her dark hair was up in a gorgeous bun. Her ecrue off-the-shoulder dress looked something straight out of a runway. She looked like she stepped off a runway, what with being so statuesque. She was rocking on her heels, glancing around every few seconds or so.

I debate with myself for half a second if I should talk to her. There really wasn’t any harm in doing so. She couldn’t be as bad as the whispers I’ve heard about her. Plus she was Jackson’s sister. No harm in giving her a complimenting, right?

I smile in her direction and say to her, “You look pretty as a Magnolia in May, Miss Felicity.”

“I’m sorry?” is the first thing she says as she looks to me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I try to maintain my smile as I watch as she relaxes a bit. “Oh, it’s you.”

She gives me a onceover before she meets my eyes again.

I clasp my hands in front of me and her response makes me think that she might not know who I am, which is reasonable. I don’t think I would… research on any girl linked to my ex.

I decide to introduce myself, knowing fully well that we’ve never really spoken to each other in the past.

“I’m Missy, from Orleans.” I say, trying to channel my friendliest smile. “You look great! I love how the fabric of your dress looks like it can catch the wind just right.”

Her dress indeed was a gorgeous one, the kind that moved just right when someone walked.

“I know who you are, Missy.” Felicity replies before glancing down at her dress, then looking back up at the hint of a smile on her lips. “Are you sure you don’t have the wrong Graham?”

The wrong Graham?

I blink at her statement, a tad confused. But I still feel myself smile just a bit, remembering my conversation with Jackson earlier today.

“Is there a right or wrong Graham I should be speaking with?” I ask.

“You’re already speaking to her.” Felicity’s eyes flit away for a moment again, before she asks me “So… How have you and Arin been getting on?” the amusement in her tone was kind of clear.

“Oh,” a small laugh that sounded more awkward than I liked escapes me. I don’t quite know how to answer Felicity correctly. Partly because of Arin, partly because I didn’t want to say anything that could offend her.

I, of all people, should know the right etiquette for treating ex-fiancées. I wanted to say something that wouldn’t let in too much but I also didn’t want to lie about my less than ideal position in the Selection.

I find myself nodding once. “He kind of grows on you, to be honest.” I lift a shoulder up. “Guess I still wanna get to know him better though.”

I wasn’t lying. I was quite interested in getting to know better. Maybe tonight I’d have the chance to. I can only hope my answer satisfies Felicity’s curiosity.

She looks like she’s holding back a smirk.

“Right… Arin. Yes, he does.” Felicity rocks on her heels again, she seems anxious about something. “So, how do you feel about other people you’ve met so far?”

Her question makes me scan the area again, hoping to ground my answer onto someone, maybe even see a particular person’s face but I don’t really catch anyone familiar save for some of the other Selected girls.

“It's been lovely meeting everyone here. The girls are sweetest, it's kind of like having sisters I've never had. Have you gotten to talk to the other girls?”

Felicity looks around, surveying the girls around us and lets out a sigh. I’m not sure if it was a sigh of disappointment or something else.

“I’ve talked to a few of them. None too noteworthy…” she says before her smile returns to her face. “What about Wylan… or say Jackson? I imagine you must have run into him by now.”

“Wylan, I think I've only met him during his birthday party a few days back.” I tilt my head, trying to sum up all the good things about Jackson—especially since I was talking to his sister.

“I've run into Jackson plenty of times actually. It's been nice to talk to him whenever he drops by here.” I feel my smile soften at thought of all the kindness he’s shown to me lately. “He's been such a huge help with the community engagement project I proposed too.”

Felicity nods, “So he’s only helpful?”

“Oh no, not just that!” I shake my head immediately. I didn’t want Felicity to think that I thought her brother was just helpful. No, Jackson was caring and had the biggest heart around here, plus he has a voice I could listen to all day.

The song he sang earlier in my head rings in my head. Maybe the night holds a little hope for us dear.

Um, nope. I didn’t want to say any of that out loud.

When I think I had the right description, I still find myself tripping over my own words.

“He’s been nothing but genuinely sweet and kind to me! I like to think that he’s one of my closest friends here.” I punctuate the end of that with a little laugh, aware that I wasn’t doing a very good job describing him.

She seems to look at the floor, a small smile on her face as she nods before taking a deep breath. “Good.”

Gosh, why was I so bad at this? Still, I can’t help but think again to the soundcheck earlier today.

I think Jackson’s real performance later was something I couldn’t wait to happen.

“Can’t wait to hear him play something later. He already sounded really great a while ago.” I say before I take another glance, wondering where Jackson was before looking back to Felicity. She looked like something was troubling her. I felt compelled to ask her, wondering if my gut feeling was right.

“You okay, Miss Felicity?”

A big smile appears on her face as she answers me.

“Of course I am. It’s just the jitters.” Her smile doesn’t falter.

Something I learned here in the palace was to never pry to deep, so I simply smile back at Felicity—trying my best to give her a reassuring look.

“Now don’t let those jitters scare you too much!” My left hand goes over looking for my Grammy’s ring on my right. Only remembering that I wasn’t wearing it tonight. Maybe for the better. My left hand settles with fiddling with my bracelet on my wrist. “I hope you enjoy yourself tonight, it is Independence Day after all.”

She nods, “Happy Independence Day, Missy. I hope it’s everything you imagined it would be.”

I suddenly hear my name being called, and see my guard coming up to my side telling me that we were starting to head in two minutes. I give him a friendly nod and a thank you before turning back to Felicity.

“You too Miss Ma’m! It was very nice talking to you. Again, I love your dress.” I gesture to her dress again—maybe wanting to ask my maids for a dress similar to it—then my guard clears his throat to remind me that we should get going, which earns him a nod from me.

Phillip starts to lead me away, but I give Felicity one last smile. “Have fun!”

-------

The night moves faster than I realize it does.

The last time I danced this much was back in my 18 Roses on my 18th birthday party, back then dancing with 18 personally picked men who each gave me a rose and a dance each. The first rose back then was obviously my Daddy, and I don’t think I’d ever forget the look on his face when we were dancing to Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You.

Both occasions still left me feeling more than just a little tired.  

Maybe it was all the dancing I’ve done with who knows how many people, maybe it was the waiting at the sides as I occasionally checked the stage and looked around if Jackson was about to start setting up.

I wanted to wait and standby so I could catch his song again, wanting to hear him singing it again.

Maybe the night holds a little hope for us.

The chorus of the song not leaving my head even if I tried to forget it. It wasn’t the only thing I couldn’t get out of my head.

So I waited.

And danced with some more people who asked me to dance when they approached me. I had no complaints about it, I missed dancing actually.

I also did the Toktik Savage dance routine with a younger guest at the party who was just as excited as I was when it started playing on the speakers.

I’m a savage, classy boujee ratchet—the whole routine.

By the end of that, I was in need of a touch up so I decided to leave the Great Hall for five minutes, hoping that I wouldn’t miss Jackson’s ((👀)) performance while I was gone.

I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t actually speed walk to the nearest powder room.

I take a minute to pat my forehead with my emergency kit’s blotting paper and dust myself with a little powder to get the shine off, dab a bit of the rouge from the pan to brighten up my complexion.

Once I’m satisfied, I give myself a final onceover with the powder room’s mirror.

Why was I in such a rush to get back?

I sigh to myself and press the heel of my palm against my forehead.

I must have really just wanted to get back to dancing, that’s it.

I look at the tiny little compact case in my hands and close it, ready to go back.

The music from the Great Hall was playing faintly as I go through the powder room’s door and I breathe a sigh of relief when the song playing doesn’t sound like Jackson’s song.

I probably should get back soon if I didn’t wanna miss it.

I take a few steps down the hallway, Jackson’s song playing over and over in my head as I walk.

I don’t expect to bump into someone else as I make my way back, most especially that someone being Arin Schreave.

“Hi Arin.” I greet him with a smile, knowing fully well we haven’t spoken since our date at the pool where he taught me how to swim. Since then I haven’t had the chance to talk to him.

Maybe this was my chance to… get to know him better. I mean, I was here to do that, right?

He seems distracted as I greet him, only responding half a second late that someone was talking to him. Arin looks up to me.

“Oh, Missy. Hi.”

I take in his appearance, realizing that he looked, for lack of better word, disheveled.

His hair was roughed up and his bow tie looked almost undone. I’m not sure if I should comment on any of that.

Instead, I clasp my hands in front of me and ask, “Having a nice night so far?”

That seemed like a good way to ask him if he was alright.

The hallway wasn’t the best lit place, but I swear I could catch a blush on his face which only confuses me even more.

Arin then swallows.  

“It’s going well enough.”  He glances around the empty hallway. “How’s your night going?”

I maintain my smile. “Nothing but good times rolling for the whole night. Dancing is quite fun, ain’t it?”

Arin’s disheveled appearance still is something I wonder if I should bring up.

I wonder if he knows… if he looks like this right now. I try to test the waters by making a light remark about his undone bow tie.

“Guess you’ve had enough fun to almost undo your bow tie.”

He blinks in surprise, and my hunch appears to be right. He didn’t know. His eyes attempt to glance down.

“Oh… I’m not sure how that happened.” He says before he reaches his hands up to his bow tie.

“If you don’t mind, I think I have a hack or two to make sure your tie doesn’t become undone for the rest of night.” I point to his bow tie, as I offer him my friendliest expression. “Only if you let me, of course.”

I loved helping tie bow ties. It was a fun little thing I did whenever a groomsman struggled with his tie for a ceremony. A wedding proof bow tie knot was something most, if not all, wedding planners should know by heart.

Arin seems to pull his hands back and nods. “Sure…” He takes a deep breath and grimaces. “How bad does my hair look?”

I give him a quick smile at his agreement, stepping up to fully undo his bow tie and start from the beginning, talking as I started adjusting the ends.

“Well, it has seen better days. I can help you with that too in a bit.” I laugh a bit, glancing to his hair. I make sure to put my thumb between the knot and his throat—making sure that it was going to be a comfortable fit.

That earns me a grown from Arin as I watch him reach up and pat down his hair. “Thank you for doing this, Missy.” He glances down to me.

His groan makes me laugh and I tilt my head in amusement.

“It’s the least I could do.” I reply, focusing more on the specific knot I had in mind. I cross and tug the ends making sure things would be properly spaced. “Lots of photographers back in the Great Hall, wouldn't want them getting any bad pictures of you.”

He glances down to his watch. “Thankfully they should be clearing out here pretty soon. Then we can get to the fun dancing.”

“Fun dancing, now I can get behind that very much.” I grin up to him, tugging at the last end I needed to pull at and gesturing to it when I’m satisfied. “One twisted knot with an extra back end to prevent any unwanted loose bows. Adds dimension but the most dance-proof knot. If you wanna take it off later, just pull at the back fold over here.”

I had to hand it to myself, I did a pretty good job with his tie. It’s been a while since I tied one those, but I’m glad that I still remembered how to.

“Oh. Thank you.” He reaches up to touch his bow tie. “I’ll keep that in mind for any more.. dancing I do tonight.”

“Best to keep that in mind indeed.” I nod before I turn my attention to his hair, putting my hand on my chin.

“As for your hair…” I shake my head as I look down the hallway for any mirrors close by so he could see for himself. Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be any nearby mirrors—and the powder room wasn’t close by anymore. “Do you know if there are any rooms with mirrors ‘round here?”

“Uh, I think the sitting room has one.” Arin glances down the hallway before looking back at me with a confused expression. “Why?”

I blink, forgetting that idea. Being alone with him in a room didn’t sound quite right.

“Just thought you’d wanna see the finished product with a much much bigger mirror.” I reply before reaching into my dress’ pocket and pull out my emergency kit, a small case that to Arin probably looked like a pocket mirror except when I open it, it has everything you’d ever need for a party or a wedding emergency: powder, blush, blotting paper, a band air, some thread and needles stuck to it, tiny scissors… and lastly a tiny tiny comb.

“It’s a good thing I brought the emergency kit then.” I smile down on it.

Arin lets out what seemingly is a genuine laugh. “Are you always this prepared?”

“You don’t have to get ready if you stay ready.” I laugh before taking the comb out and placing the kit back in my pocket. “I've planned over a hundred events, trust me-- this emergency kit is nothing.  Never know when a dress rips or someone needs a little touch up in between pictures.”

In fact the kit I had was only a scaled down version of my fanny pack of emergency tools for weddings. Oh gosh, weddings were disasters waiting to happen.

Arin chuckles, “Well, I guess if anyone ever actually tries to make it down the aisle with me I know who to call.”

I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard Arin bring up weddings on his own. It was actually quite amusing to me that he said so. Oh gosh, I can’t believe I was actually having a nice conversation with him.

“I'm sure a lucky girl is going to want to make it down the aisle with you.” I giggle as I reach up with the comb and fix a couple of strands of his hair. As I work on his hair, I can’t help but feel like it’s hard for myself to imagine myself in that position—at least not yet, but progress was being made that made me hopeful that I still had a chance with Arin.

“Do I keep the side part dominantly on the left side?”

“Left side.” He answers, smiling at me.

I nod, returning a similar smile. “You got it, Mr. Schreave.” I go back to work, easily able to reach up to his hair with my heels on. I still really wonder how his hair got to this.

“Is it okay to ask why you look like you just walked through a hurricane?”

Arin clears his throat. “I’ve just had a lot of running around… there’s a lot of people I’ve had to see.”

Ooooo, must have been a lot of running and meeting people then.

I hum at that as I smooth his side part down. “Of course. Big party with all these guests and well… us girls. Everyone would wanna get a piece of that action.”

The comb runs through a few more strands of his hair, which admittedly was the first thing I noticed when we first met. He did have nice hair.

I pat his hair lightly when I get his hair to look just right, like the way I’ve noticed he’s worn it before.

“And…” I give his hair a last minute pat, then meet his eyes. “your hair is read for the cameras again.”

Arin groans again. “If I never saw another camera again, I’d be a happy man.”

“Hey,” I laugh, amused as ever with his sentiments against cameras. I put the comb back in my emergency kit and close it with an audible click. “You can be a happy man even with cameras around. On the bright side, there'll be lots of pictures to remember stories from tonight.”

He seems to grimace at that, but he suddenly reaches up and I feel his hand push some strands of my hair behind my ear. I guess I didn’t notice that earlier.

I curl my lips in at that contact, suddenly feeling all the more conscious that we were alone in the hallway together.

Still, I wasn’t going to let this opportunity go. This was still my chance with Arin.

I thought my dream of this Selection being a fairytale with a prince were ruined back during our first date but—maybe I was wrong.

I offer Arin a small smile and a “Thank you.”

He doesn’t pull his hand back from my ear, his eyes looking me over.

I feel more conscious now more than ever with his hand still there.

What was he doing?

No, what was I doing?

Still, it felt nice. It felt familiar.

Like something I haven’t felt ever since Daniel and I were still together, like the weird little feeling in your chest when you’re 14 and unsure of what to do next after an accidental brush of hands.

It’s been so long since then.

And it feels like one of those scenes in the movies, right before the couple did some grand old romantic gesture where the princess’ foot would pop or there’d be butterflies in the main character’s stomach.

Could this be it for me?

It has to be. It just has to be.

I find myself leaning closer to Arin.

“I think I want to kiss you.” He murmurs as I feel his hand go to my cheek.

My eyes widen at him saying it out loud.

I wasn’t used to this with other people, but I was in the Selection for this very reason.

I had to start somewhere.

I wanted to fall in love here.

This was a start.

This could be the start of something I’ve wanted back for so long, at least prove to myself that after all this time I wasn’t broken after what happened with Daniel.

I find myself nodding and leaning closer to Arin, wanting him to close the gap.

“Is that okay?” he breaths out, and his eyes seem to study me. I can’t believe he’s still asking.

My face flushes the longer we stay this close and wait for something to happen—nerves I didn’t know existed making themselves known now.

I remind myself of my Mama’s hopes that I’d end up falling in love with a prince…

I remind myself of why else would I be here in the first place if not to get a fairytale romance with a prince…

…because I don’t think I’ve ever come close to that with Arin until now.

Maybe this will convince me that I actually like Arin this way and erase all my doubts.

A kiss is all it could take to realize the truth. Please work.

So I manage to softly say a “yes”.

It’s the kind of scene in the movies when you should feel fireworks go from your stomach to your heart— bathing you in a warm feeling like how when you see fireworks light up the sky on New Year’s Day.

It should feel like fireworks.

That’s how you know things are going to work.

Daniel felt like fireworks.

When Arin leans in closer, I reach up to hold his face too— then I feel him press his lips to mine.

It should feel like fireworks.

But it doesn’t.

I don’t feel anything.

I try to wait for a beat and see, maybe it just needs some time to kick in?

And I’m not sure if I imagine it, but I think I can hear the music in the Great Hall from a distance.

Maybe the night holds a little hope for us, dear.

Jackson.

That thought is something I push to the back of my mind as I pull away from Arin, reaching up to gently remove his hand from my face.

“I'm... uh— I'm sorry. That—” I cut myself off, trying to process what just happened. It felt like everything was crashing down onto me.

Arin wasn’t the one for me.

“Was that... Did that feel... um..? Weird for you?” I try to manage out a coherent thought, while trying my best to not make Arin angry or upset.

Arin takes a step away from me and clears his throat.

“I— I’m sorry.” He says before chuckling nervously. Well, at least he didn’t seem upset either. “Missy, you’re great. I just.... I don’t think we need to do that again.”

OH THANK GOD.

I blush from the embarrassment of this entire situation but nod my head a couple of times in agreement. It was stupid of me to keep on pushing the idea that Arin and I were going to work out that way.

“No, I don’t think we’d need a repeat of that... for... like, ever.” I blink, hearing myself say that out loud. My voice suddenly goes up an awkward octave trying to damage control that.

“NOT—” I catch my tone as my hands go up, modulating my voice and remain calm in this situation. “Not that I don’t think you’re great. In fact, I really do hope at least one of the girls here makes you very happy! I think I’m just not one of ‘em.”

I could let the ground swallow me whole, and I’d thank it. But Arin was still a friend, and well he seemed like he needed more friends now more than ever.

Arin’s expression seems sympathetic, like he gets the situation.

He holds his hands up. “No- I get it. I really do. You’re wonderful but I’m not sure we would be wonderful together.” He glances towards the doors that lead into the ballroom. “I think we should pretend this didn’t happen…”

Now that’s something I can get behind.

“Agreed. I completely agree.” I make a swiping motion over my forehead, trying to not let the disappointment ruin this moment. I try to smile. “Consider it memory-wiped buddy.”

No matter how uneasy I felt about myself right now—I wasn’t going to ruin it.

“You go back first or me?” I ask.

He lets out a nervous laugh, “I think there’s no harm in us walking back together.”

I snap a finger and finger gun point to him, “Sure, do I still have to hold your arm?”

The joke sounds like a sad attempt of me trying to get my mind off my ruined hopes for this Selection, which honestly it is.

That seems to make Arin frown a little.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“Don’t worry, I want to. It’s the proper Belt Belle thing to do, afterall.” I tilt my head to the door, trying to not be sad and enjoy this new discovery. I wasn’t going to cut ties with Arin just because I know he wasn’t boyfriend material for me. “Shall we?”

He chuckles at that then answers me in possibly the worst attempt of a southern accent I’ve ever heard.

“Yes ma’am.” He says as he holds out his arm for me to take and we walk back to the Great Hall together.

Once we get back, Arin and I part ways with a shared laugh, and it’s a nice consolation to know that at least we could still be friends despite everything that just happened.

I couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach though. As much as I wanted to stay in the Great Hall and enjoy the party—I couldn’t stop the wave of emotions that I was trying to process right now.

To my right was a glass door opened for everyone to go through if they wanted to go through the gardens—and I needed as much space from people as I could right now.

I didn’t want anyone see me like this right now. I just needed five minutes to myself.

So I manage to go through the door and try my very best to keep it together as I picked up a part of my dress’ skirt off the ground to move faster to the gardens.

There was only one place I know no one would be, close enough for me to sort through this lump of emotions.

The greenhouse.

[mimiplaysgames]

A Good Defense

Pairing: Aqua/Xemnas Rating: T Word Count: 4,996

Summary: She hasn’t been the only person in twelve years to be wasted by darkness and left to pick up the remains alone. It only takes meeting a familiar face on a dangerous stranger for her to realize this.

Read on AO3

Notes: Made for the @khrarepairszine​!! Surprise, surprise, I’m sure some of you have never expected me to venture here. This was actually a cancelled fic but this zine gave me an opportunity to bring life back to it again (which is good, what I cancel always threatens me in my sleep). It was tricky writing through a slow burn in such a short amount of words but I hope it’s enjoyable! Special thanks to @lyssala for beta-reading this and holding my hand every time I was insecure about this piece. Also to my boyfriend - without him, I would have made a fool of myself.

***

Day One ~*~

“You can keep it.”

Her answer starts slow and ends with a hiss, and the enigma sitting on a tall, white throne narrows his eyes - it lasts for a mere moment, a smirk drawing on the edge of his lips and she swears he’s thinking to himself that he has something valuable.

Two can play that game. 

This is their first meeting, two days after she is discovered on the banks of a beach at night, after someone gives her a black robe to wear and leather gloves to cover the red tips of her fingers, after another introduces her to a familiar face stolen by a stranger. 

And he had the audacity to try and give her a new name.

“I am Master Aqua to you,” she says like there’s an expectation to introduce herself as such, and it comes out like an audio recording because after so many years it sounds weird to say. She’s seen herself in the mirror since coming here. She knows how much she’s changed. 

“Master Aqua,” he repeats, slowly, as though he likes to hear himself pronounce the syllables. His smile is foreign. “What is in a name, but a powerful congruence of will and faith?”

It’s enough of an introduction and she decides she can’t stand this guy. It’s wrong, he smiles wrong and for someone who thinks so little of such things, he calls himself Xemnas; not a name that should be worn with a face like his.

Day Thirteen ~*~

He catches her wandering the castle by herself, doing nothing but avoiding everyone else - particularly him. It’s hard enough to look at his face without having ugly reminders. 

“So neglectful of your commands,” he says simply.

True. She’s been traveling on her own, keeping her hood up and dropping clues to other doe-eyed Keyblade wielders on how they can free Ventus from his deep sleep.

Not because she wants them to know who she is and not because she wants to join anyone who has abandoned her. Ventus will have to suffer enough disappointment with how long she’s taken already, there’s no need to prolong it.   

Either way, anything to do with Ventus trumps whatever dumb shit and other shenanigans this Organization tries to throw at her - looking for missing boxes, babysitting princesses, it goes on. Xemnas has even commanded her on a mission to retrieve Ventus from his hiding spot. Her answer: never. 

“You can’t make me care about them,” she says with a click of her tongue, too lazy to shrug with both shoulders. 

“The cost of such defiance is steep.” His voice is deep and it rumbles even when it sneaks, startling and unnerving like a candle being snuffed out. 

It doesn’t take a day to understand what Xemnas is capable of, and immediately she stiffens to prepare an attack, battle tactics and back-up plans coursing through her mind in case he pulls out his sabers against her. She’s still a force to be reckoned with, and he’s an idiot if he’s feeling testy.

Still… It’s not something a face like his would ever say to her. Should ever say. She wants to lunge forward and slap him, lose control and pull the real him out of his body, give him one thousand long lectures about what it was like to wait for him in the darkness, to chase him around worlds, to spend years worrying about him.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” she keeps, her voice as low as it can get before it turns to a whisper.

Xemnas smiles and she almost spits that he should entertain himself rather than bother her. 

Entertaining himself indeed, every smile he gives has a double meaning and she’s only lucky to be able to guess what correctly. Otherwise, his eyes act like nothing but glass, doing their best at mimicking. 

… It’s a wonder how he does it.

His lackeys give her a lot of comments of what it’s supposed to be like. How a Nobody feels, what her responsibilities are, how to connect to her powers, what to believe, what to expect out of Kingdom Hearts and when. Yes, she has yellow eyes just like the rest of them but that means nothing. It’s only because she’s angry.

Angry enough that she stews in between the grinding of her teeth when he lets her words slide off of him like it doesn’t matter. A perfect Nobody in every sense of the word, non-feeling, non-caring, un-attached… he therefore feels no pain and so he is free. Where does he hide the secrets to achieving such a high?

Xemnas draws a hand in the air, conjuring a dark corridor. “Come, Master Aqua.” 

There’s a lot to fear in obeying him, one of which is enduring whatever punishment he’s decided for her. Not that there is a trace of threat in his voice, he’s just mostly amused. Perhaps the worst that would happen is finding out he’s just as bad company as the rest of them. Perhaps not.

She pushes the thought to the back of her mind that she shouldn’t follow a man with no hobbies.

Day Fifteen ~*~

He likes to hear himself talk.

The field trips are a nice distraction but she often finds herself tuning him out when he gets too involved in overblown monologues. She doesn’t spare this kind of time with the other Organization members - she instead follows other Keybearers to make sure they get her messages about Ventus. When he drones on about subjects too big for anyone, she’s afraid to name what she’s looking for in him. 

Maybe if she pays enough attention, she’ll find that she’s walking by herself in Twilight Town, leaving him behind at a booth selling souvenirs.

It’s a strange thing to witness Xemnas show interest in something other than the moon. He usually keeps the other members at a far distance, where talks of what he’s like as a person are no more than rumors, and there is a certain… intimacy in being allowed to see him like this. 

“A camera?” she asks when he picks one up, equipped with a neck strap and zoom lens, listening to the man behind the counter sell the idea that film photography is superior and can truly capture things as they are. 

“As a matter of fact…” Even when he’s teasing, he’s monotone. 

At least it’s a healthier pastime for him than sulking.

With his new toy, Xemnas requests a trip on the city trolley, over the sea and up a hill, until they reach a park and watch the sun bathe the entire city in a warm glow. Despite the sun’s reach, she’s cold, pulling on her sleeves to cover more of her wrists, hugging herself because even in thick leather, she shivers. Still, it’s quite a romantic little town, peaceful and vibrant. Nothing like this has ever existed in the Realm of Darkness.

“Does the view please you?” he asks, aiming the lens toward the horizon.

“I don’t care for the ocean.”

It reminds her of sinking, the water frigid and lonely where it’s too hard to swim up.

Learning how to use the camera is slow for him at first. The man has incredible focus though, and she can see the gears in his mind turning as he fumbles with the settings, twisting the lens, turning the flash on and off. 

That’s the thing with him, that mind never stays quiet even when he is.

“What are you doing all that for? Art?” she snickers - obviously that could never be the reason.

“This world exists in-between… a ghost warped by the conflict of polarity, both standing in the light yet hidden in shadow. It will not continue to endure after the War. But now I have proof of its existence.”

“So you’re keeping a record for science,” she scoffs. “Such a civil servant.”

Her own words eat her up. A servant to the public would be locked in battle with him, doing all that it takes to put a stop to his very existence, and here she is, by his side, watching him study his camera the same way she used to study her books growing up.

It makes her wonder why a man so enraptured by the clicks of his machine would be so willing to walk into the fire once the end of the world comes. 

“Why don’t you care about being swallowed by Kingdom Hearts?” she asks, half-expecting a lie as a response. 

The question pulls his attention away. “Only a suffered soul abandons purpose.”

Of course, she should have known than to hope for a straightforward answer. 

Finding a bench to sit on, she listens to him click away, each one blanketed by a pause as he adjusts ever so slightly, moving his frame from the town far below to the clock tower far away. This is familiar, like watching a close friend try his best to understand the secrets of a Keyblade, eyes lost in thought, focus spearheaded onto one thing and one thing only.

“A picture is a moment trapped in ink,” he says. “Here, a piece to take with me.”

“Where to?” 

“Kingdom Hearts,” he says and it makes his breath swell. “To wherever we shall go when the time comes. When all memory erases and we reset, in a space somewhere my existence will linger so long as I have a memory to hold onto.”

It’s not something she really thought about - him wanting to have something to possess. These people, these Nobodies, give their free will up to Xehanort’s influence, to reduce themselves to puppets. It never occurred to her that the others might have something they cherish and want to keep as well, no matter the reason why they chose to walk this path and give themselves up like this.

“It is beautiful, is it not?” he asks.

If he means the ocean, it used to be. 

She cocks an eyebrow. “That’s something that moves you?” 

He takes a seat on the bench in front of her, the camera treasured in his hands. “I am only missing a heart, not a mind. Opinions are privileged to me... What we will leave behind here is graceful, as damning as that is.”

“Hmph.” Listening to him speak about absent hearts, that he’s a hollow body, chokes her each time, like she’s facing punishment for her transgressions. 

Either way, she can’t let him see her get so affected. She flicks dirt off her cloak, leaning back and crossing her legs. 

“Xemnas,” she starts, her tone teasing like a dark thought hasn’t crossed her mind. “Superior of the In-Between, Appreciator of Beauty.”

Titles have a weight to them, some befitting and others suppressing. Xemnas is a man who gives them value, who finds agreement to what she’s saying, testing his new designation in his mind to see how well it suits. 

He studies her first. Brings the camera to his face, aims the lens at her. She sees herself in its reflection, gold eyes bright, before the flash captures her.

Day Thirty-Two ~*~

She flips through several developed photos and it comes as no surprise that she’s not smiling in any of them. She can read the timeline as she looks through portraits of herself standing by riverbanks and strolling through souks, her hair whitening by the week. 

The two of them meet in secret to look over the photographs when they’re certain no one else is in the castle, and a part of her today hopes that one of them is beautiful enough to bring her some comfort.

Ventus is no longer in Castle Oblivion. Her hints and paper trails have worked and he’s now in the custody of the other Keybearers. 

But it leaves her with a sensational loneliness, having no reason to go back and watch him sleep, and she doesn’t have anyone to talk about these feelings with. 

It’s hard to tell if she’s doing a banging job at pretending it doesn’t affect her, since she’s grumpy all the time anyway. 

Xemnas stands close, looking over her shoulder as she goes through a stack where he recorded a trip they took to a world of mountains.

Some of these photos she was aware of. Others not so much, and one in particular shows her staring at her Wayfinder, blue and powerful, while she ignores the backdrop of clouds cowering under the girth of the peaks behind her. He’s captured her standing so close to the edge yet she doesn’t even remember walking so dangerously near.

He scoffs gently. “Continue to be bound by the chains that drag you, and you will plunge into oblivion.”

She doesn’t know what game he’s playing anymore. Is he just fooling himself at this point? What other reason does he have to always follow her around unless there’s something pulling him?

Maybe it’s time to see exactly what he remembers. She’s had so many wonderful years living in the mountains with her boys, exploring the forests and camping overnight...

“We used to fish together,” she says, and the words sting more than she expected.

“Hmmm,” he sighs. “It was a leisure that came easily to me.”

Her heart skips a beat. Xemnas rambles, Xemnas tricks himself, Xemnas keeps others in the dark, the blind leading the blind. 

But this is the truest statement that he’s ever said; she’s never been the best at hunting.

“It was, you were the best at it,” she says, prodding his eyes for more. “There was a river by the closest trail and-” 

He smiles, and she almost hates it. It’s not warm, not comforting, just condescending.

“At an ocean that stretched by my childhood home, on an island, stranded in the middle of nowhere, where I fished with schoolmates,” he says.

That’s incorrect… 

The lump in her throat sinks, and it’s an emotion called devastation. She’s spent years exploring her memories privately because admitting to them would acknowledge their existence, and there’s something about the dark that makes her question whether she’s making them up. Just like he is now.

She wants to throw his photos at his face, demand that he remembers her, shake him until he gives her an expression in his eyes that actually means he feels. 

He pulls the photos from her hand, creased from her holding them too tightly. Whatever stupefied look she had on her face prompts him to say this next: “There is a place I want to show you.”

A single white room void of windows, like a capsule. But what’s inside nearly makes her wonder if she’s been transported elsewhere. There’s a white throne marked by chains and it’s uncanny how much it looks like the one Ventus slept in all this time. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” she starts to ask, suddenly terrified that she’s been found out when she spots a mess of color. 

Cracked and abandoned, just like her. Her armor in a scrap heap.

And right by it, Stormfall, dusty like it’s been waiting for as long as she has. 

“It has not been a very…” He hides his hands behind his back. “Loquacious partner.”

She’s speechless at the idea that all this time the other members think he’s been talking to himself… 

And what did he talk about? Why bother to pretend the armor is alive?

It’s enough temptation to try her hand. “Terra?”

If his smile is patronizing, his laugh is worse: breathy, amused, pitiful. 

“What is in a name,” he says, “but a hopeful delusion?”

“Don’t mess with me,” she steps forward, ready to jab a finger at his chest. “I’m not in denial. There’s so much riding with me-”

“No.” He shakes his head, so tall that he has to look down. “You have nothing.”

“I’m not like you,” she hisses. “Any of you, I don’t tell myself lies that I am nothing.”

“You cannot claim that.” The confidence in his speech is astounding. “What you have is a star-shaped trinket. A fossil. That former life of yours is dead.”

She wants to spit back. Really, she does. And yet her mouth feels sewn together, too afraid to let toxic words slip out of her mouth, too tired to have to prove herself otherwise. It’s like she’s been paranoid that punishment has been waiting for its chance to pounce, and it’s finally here. 

He’s so much larger than Terra that he has to bend over to meet her face, and he’s close enough she can smell his cologne, see the details of his irises and finally witness a spark - 

Anger lives behind them, tested, refined, and tamed. Powerful, unlike hers which throws her at whims.

“This room,” he starts, and he pierces her with his eyes, beautiful and messy, “is what I have left. A troublesome reminder that there is something I have forgotten. The chains that keep us bound are attached to an empty void. That is why we are nothing, friend.” 

The title feels like a leash and a collar around her neck, like he’s about to grab her. She braces herself for the possibility, and it churns her stomach.

“What I have earned since are the hollow words of a woman who’s told me there was nothing to darkness but hate and rage,” he continues, barely giving her the space to breathe for herself. “So I came here, to ask her time and time again if she still believes I will continue to go astray.” 

If there is a memory she ever wished for Terra’s heart to hold onto, it wouldn’t have been those words. 

“The fates that have been chiseled for us,” he continues, “were deviant… unnatural… manipulated. We should not have existed, maimed and exploited. Darkness has ravaged us, as much as it has left you destitute.”

What echoes in the silence is the shuddering of her breath, driving her to near-tears when she thought that she wasn’t capable of crying anymore. “I didn’t deserve what happened to me.” She doesn’t know why she needs to say that or what kind of comfort she will get out of it.

His eyes search her face and there’s that feeling in the back of her mind that he’s going to touch her. “I did not think so, either.”

With that, he straightens up, turning over his shoulder to leave her shivering in this cold room. 

She lunges forward to grab his wrist - a knee-jerk reaction really. Who can blame her when she’s looking for… someone to tell her it’s not her fault. When he turns to look back at her and she realizes the smile she wants is just a fantasy, she’s reminded:

Xemnas. She has to remember that he is Xemnas and not who she wants him to be. 

So she lets him go, to be left in an air-tight container with no Terra to hold her, no Ventus to wake up, and a Keyblade.

It belongs to a Master, to Aqua. And she is Aqua but she is not. 

She has been tethered and conditioned since, a dull glory with memories that don’t serve her anymore except to leave her feeling… well, destitute. An Anti-Aqua, a new her with the same name she was born with.

Certainly it feels strange to hold Stormfall again after all these years, and she takes it with her. After all, stealing a Keyblade isn’t that terrible of a crime.

Day Seventy-Nine ~*~

There isn’t so much of a point to being part of an Organization when she’s lonely even around other people. It’s daunting, and if she isn’t around Nobodies that can speak, she’s around monstrosities that can’t. 

The World That Never Was is hollow, and the sea of empty hotels and apartments is all just for show, like it’s good enough to pretend to have friends. 

But maybe that is definitely the point: keep attachments at bay to make it easier to move on to the other side when the time comes.

Footsteps softly rise as she hears him climb the steps that lead to the lounge where she waits, and it makes her smirk. He walks with the lightness of air; that’s impressive for his size.

“I come bearing gifts,” he announces when he arrives to take the couch across from her, crossing his legs as he makes himself comfortable. In his hand is a white envelope, full enough to have photos she hasn’t seen yet. 

Her face goes cold when she looks through them - it’s like he’s throwing more games at her that she’s too tired to play, like he keeps testing her to see when she finally breaks. If he hasn’t figured her out yet, he certainly has now. 

Ventus, in all of them. Wandering streets by himself with the curiosity of a toddler. Laughing with Sora. Sparring with Riku. 

She inhales sharply. “What do you want with him?”

“Nothing,” he says like it’s his favorite word. “I do not wish to harm him.”

“Stalking and endangering him makes you look bad.”

All Xemnas does is flash her a smug grin, his fingers on his chest like he’s proud of himself. “It appears I am not the heartless one between the two of us, throwing such a blatant accusation against me.”

Being playful doesn’t suit him well but at least she’s fond of it. He lets go of a long breath, the smirk melting away into a faraway longing as he stares at his own hand, those gears of his turning. 

It gives her the impression that her reaction stung him, and she wonders if anyone has ever asked him if his feelings have been hurt. If he’s even capable of being offended that way. 

Rubbing his gloved fingers against his palm, Xemnas shakes his head. “There was a… an oath made to me long ago, and still I cannot recall the exact words.”

Aqua doesn’t know what to say - Terra and Ventus were like brothers, and sometimes would share secrets and promises without her knowing, so she really can’t help him remember. 

She wishes, though, that he’s easier to read. It’s hard to tell if he’s being entirely sincere or if he’s pulling fanciful words to suit her - if he has other reasons not to attack Ventus. Come to think of it, he only asked her to find Ventus for him once… though it’s unsafe to assume too much. Believing that he feels a bond is still a risk, but so long as she can take care of herself, it’s probably a good idea to humor him.

It’s for the best since Ven isn’t something Xemnas should think he can keep.

“How long I have searched for the chamber that kept him locked away for more than a decade,” he continues. “I admit all I yearned for were answers to questions no book can satiate. Now... he simply waltzes out of the castle with nary a helping hand.”

It’s the way he says it that tells her he knows. 

She shrugs. “Magically.”

“Magically.” At least he’s amused. “The portraits are yours to keep.”

She takes another glance, petting her thumb on the smooth surface where his cheek was captured. “How is he?”

“He is healthy.” He leans back, one elbow on the armrest. “Rambunctious and eager to fight.” 

“Did he see you?”

“No.” He takes one hard look at her. “Will you not meet with him?”

“No.”

He attempts to ask why but she cuts him off. “He’d be very upset if-” Takes a moment. Regain composure. There’s nothing left to cry over, he’s happy and he deserves it. “If he saw either of us this way.”

She adds, “my body is changing.”

The confession is like pulling a stopper, letting the water gush down the drain like a hurricane, where tears do not come out of her eyes but out of the growling in her throat and the fists she makes as she slips off her gloves to show him the red fingertips, the purple wrists, the smoke that poofs out like she’s sweating it.

Nothing could have prepared her for how much his smile falls, completely enraptured with what he sees, like she’s a foreign specimen in need of study.

“To feel so intensely,” he says mostly to himself, leaning over the table in between them to look at it more closely. “That it alters the host.” He frees a hand from his glove, and his skin looks smooth like a human’s - for someone who considers himself a monster, she’s the only one who looks like one.

He reaches over, as if asking for her hand. It has to be the most human thing to be curious. 

Meeting him halfway, they press their palms against each other, the rolls that make up the hand and fingers shifting as they fill the gaps. His are so familiarly big, so amazingly warm, and she’s been certain this entire time that she’d never feel hands like these again. It’s pleasant to find some solace from the frigidity of her scales.

Splaying his fingers to meet hers, he plays: first leaning into hers to see how far they can bend, then threading them together one by one, like he understands what it is to hold a hand but has never learned what it’s supposed to feel like.

Intertwined like this, he’s now leashed to her, bound by a chain he can’t break either.

Day Eighty ~*~

It’s hard to count the hours when there’s no sun. It could be late or early, whatever, but either way sleep has decided not to say good night no matter how many times she’ll toss and turn. 

Suppose the only question keeping her awake is whether any of this matters. When that heart-shaped moon finally opens and she disintegrates, suppose she’ll become the inky sky that allows the stars to shine in the new world, a ghost so far away and expansive that she’ll stretch forever and witness everything. 

Or instead, she’ll turn into a star, a memory of the way things were and she’ll shine brightly to give others hope. Maybe even become the sun and be the source of all life. 

She takes her hand, lets her cold, scaly fingers brush her chest first before finding her heartbeat, quiet and calm with the hours in rest. 

Still, what is the point if she’s at it alone? Will she blend into other people? Will she reconnect with Terra and Ven? Will she forget about them, about her current life, about pain and loss?

After all, the only way to remove the loss is to wipe away the reminiscence. 

With this in mind, she leaves her bed and this empty room. 

Whatever she becomes, the least she can have is something to hold onto. She should be allowed to keep the things she’s loved. Maybe nothing will happen - maybe they can run away, abandon crazy prospects and make a life out of what’s left. 

Finding herself standing in front of Xemnas’ door, she knocks, somewhere between soft and demanding. When he opens the door, he’s finishing the zipper up his cloak, having just stood from his desk where his camera splays open. 

“Don’t say anything,” Aqua says. There’s been enough thinking, enough existential crises tainted by the question of why’s and when’s and what’s. 

They’re wasting time and she doesn’t want to be alone when her bones turn to dust. 

Xemnas still has his glove-less fingers on his zipper when he steps aside and lets her walk through the threshold into his room, respecting her request to keep silent, a small smirk pulling on his face.

Aqua closes the gap between them, her head leaning against his chest, nuzzling on the leather he wears. He likes to talk big about being nothing, but there it is, his heartbeat, quiet and calm like it doesn’t want to be discovered.

What’s in a name indeed, a man once said to her when his own very name, Xemnas, is a body and a mind. He is someone, and Kingdom Hearts will take him away too. 

Hearing its beat lulls her and finally, finally, she thinks she’ll be able to find sleep for this long night. Gripping his leather into her fists, her breath slows and she rests against him, taking his warmth as a reminder that she’s alive for now. There’s nothing else relevant except the lack of rhythm in their hearts and that camera, a small trinket they can take with them so at least they can share a life that isn’t dead. 

He helps himself to a lock of her hair as he intertwines it into his fingers, his free hand claiming the small of her back, his warm breath on her scalp as he searches for his own meaning of life. 

“It’s magnificent,” he says about whatever it is he’s finding. 

She hums, half in contempt that he’s speaking and half asleep, intoxicated by his cologne as she pulls on his cloak, squeezing her fist tighter like tonight will be the last.

“Xemnas,” she calls but does not follow-up. 

She was about to say that he can continue to take photos of her, to let her take some of him with her, to liven the mood, to keep her warm because this entire castle is cold… to do something or tell her a story of a world where the sun rises from the west. Maybe they can find it together and gather proof of it. 

He’s been wrong all along - there is power to a name and if he wants to deny that, then she’ll have to slap him out of such a problem.

He moves slightly and now his hair covers her face but he grips her tighter. The door to his room closes. He carries her to bed, and she lets herself drown in his mouth as his weight pressures her to sink, down to the depths where they gasp for air together. 

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

The Mighty Nein keep self describing their group as a bunch of “assholes” but now that I think about it, they’ve kind of... won over the vast majority of people they’ve come across who they weren't trying to kill?

They got a wary mob boss to hire them and give them professional trust and leniency. They got an ENEMY SPY in the middle of a mission to speak with them honestly after about five minutes of talking. They got an anti-social, grumpy old wizard who’s house they almost broke into to give them the time of day and the ability to jump in and out of his house. Two of those they just did on a whim.

They were almost hired on by contract for the Empire, officially. They got a hostile Queen from an enemy nation that was at war with the land she assumed they came from to grant them her favour. They got a fucking Pirate King who KNEW that they’d broken pretty much the only rules he (lethally) enforced to let them go. 

All of these people had legitimate reasons to do so -- given that the Nein had done a them favours or proved their competency -- but the fact remains that the Mighty Nein were able to ingratiate themselves. Have consistently been able to wriggle their way out of bad situations not with their skill in battle, but with forthrightness and communication. They've charmed and deceived and negotiated, yeah. But ultimately what that means is that people were won over by them, by their arguments and gestures of good faith. Because most of these are ongoing connections they’ve made. They didn’t just sweet talk in the moment, they’ve maintained these relationships in some capacity. Very few could have made those relationships in the first place.

How many friends have they made, now? Shakaste, Nila, Twiggy, Keg, Calianna, all out there somewhere. Kiri, Kiri’s adopted family, Bryce, Rissa and her father Cleff, Gustav, Orly. How many allies? Yussah, Essik, potentially Ophelia and the Gentlemen, perhaps Dairon if they don’t step on each other’s toes, Waccoh if they stay on her good side. They’ve gotten guest PCs they’ve met to be willing to die for them (Twiggy and Keg, most notably). Of course, that’s partially just due to the nature of the game, but in-universe the point stands.

Calianna’s letter is what got me thinking about all this. She points out, very correctly, that though they’re suspicious and not terribly polite, they give pretty much everyone the time of day and effort at the slightest incentive. And yet they never think people like them in particular.

They’ve gotten on just about everyone they’ve encountered’s good side, somehow, which is impressive, but they don’t seem to realize anyone is going to continue looking at them with anything other than annoyance or tolerance. There were a lot of great metas floating around over the last week discussing (or just joking) about how they were so close to running last week after a single screw up, and in the end the Bright Queen... thanked them for what they’d already done, instead of punishing them from their failure like they expected.

The Nein think they have to prove, over and over and over again to the same people, that they’re competent and useful and not liabilities. Because otherwise they’ll be tossed aside at the slightest provocation. 

Of course, that’s not news. We’ve known this whole time that they have these issues because it’s pretty obvious in how they interact with one another. It’s taken them this long for them to come to terms, individually, with the fact that people within the Nein actually like them. Hell, that lesson still may have not sunk in all the way! But they clearly still think that no one outside the group will want them around them for any length of time. They think they have to go above and beyond to prove that they’re trustworthy, all the time, and still assume they’re on thin ice. It doesn’t even occur to them that people might find them likeable in any capacity (excluding, of course, Caduceus and Jester. Everyone likes Caduceus and Jester.)

I’m not saying that’s not the case. They’ve had to prove themselves to many, many people, and if they hadn’t then most of these connections probably wouldn’t exist at all. They’re on shaky territory with many of their allegiances. But the fact that they’ve made them at all speaks to them NOT being nearly as bad at gaining trust and good will as they all seem to think. Their general attitude is that these are a series of flukes that will inevitably collapse, and not a pattern that speaks to their general reputation. They think they’re bullshitting their way through everything, and while they may be making it up as they go along, they’ve actually been pretty honest and rather lacking in ill intent, exercising and improving a decent personable front. And the people around them can see that, and have potentially formed favourable opinions from that.

The default, patented Mighty Nein assumption is “we’re skating by.” Yes, Caduceus, you’re right, none of the rest of them HAVE had the experience of being trusted to do the right thing. Not only that, it straight up doesn’t occur to them that they ever could be. It’s a surprise when anyone says anything positive about them aside from “they can do their jobs.” That people might reluctantly find them charming, if they’re not actively trying to seem that way? That people might grow fond of them, value them? There’s a constant clock ticking in most of their heads, counting down until they inevitably burn any and all bridges they’ve made.

I don’t believe any of the Nein realized the impression they’d made on Calianna until that letter. That they might not only have done the bare minimum, but actually raised her bar for how she’d like to be treated. That (shocker) they might actually be... better, and kinder, than the average person.

(And, well. Why would they? Fjord, bullied and outcast his whole life, eyed with suspicion, tolerated at best. Beau, scolded and outcast her whole life, having her own parents fail to give her positive attention, lacking almost entirely for friends and role models. Nott, bullied and outcast her whole life (are we noticing a patten here?), first by her own community and family, then by a community she hated. Caleb, trained up as a ruthless weapon, discarded when no longer useful, locked up alone for a decade, and (you guessed it) outcast once he was free. Jester, alone and sheltered, friendless for all but her most recent months of life, forced out of the only place she’d ever lived under threat of death for a single silly mistake. Yasha! Has never mentioned friends! Lost her only loved one! Kicked out of her only known home. And then Caduceus. Who came from a big family who seems to have loved him, was given legitimate responsibilities, and feels comfortable within them. Is any of this a mystery? Why would most of the Nein EVER expect people to want them around? They never have before.)

I feel like I’m not necessarily saying anything unique here. But I often wonder what people think of the Nein as a whole, and while “crazy” and “competent” are the popular answers (and I’m sure they’re true), “liked” or “thought well of” to ANY degree generally isn’t up there. Certainly not among the Nein themselves. And yet positive inclinations towards them (from Essik, and Calianna, and many others) are perhaps not such uncommon reactions, regardless.

Am I wrong? Are they actually generally disliked or considered annoying? Possibly. It’s hard to know the inner workings of most NPC’s heads. But they certainly have gained better reactions than they give themselves credit for. And the dislike they seem to assume as the default is maybe not as much of a default as they think.

[katcadecascade]

A Wolf 359/The Bright Sessions/Time Bombs crossover oneshot

Title: Patient #15-C-10

Summary:  Session 1 with Tatiana Sobrero, an unexpected walk-in and implied to never come back. Much like an old friend, she saw the advertisement for the 'strange and unusual' and thought it was perfect for her. Plus, plans for New Year's Eve, a fake name if you wish, and a split personality named Bob.

When Joan took a small detour to her main office to collect her stash of expensive wine, she didn’t expect someone to knock on the door the moment she stepped in. Honestly, she jumped, key in hand ready to defend herself from anyone as dangerous as Damien.

Instead standing right outside the half open door is a tall woman, her knuckles still against the door and staring back at Joan with the same wide eyed surprise.

She slowly raised both her hands in surrender but her tall stature and large biceps point the obvious on who can over power the other. The woman schools the tension out of her face and in a soft and careful tone says, “Hi, is this the therapy for the strange and unusual?”

“Oh, yes it is,” Joan, key still in hand, lets the woman enter the room. “I wasn’t expecting anyone today.”

“Uh yeah, my bad,” she said and has the decency to look a little bit embarrassed but there’s more regret and hesitance in her voice. “I thought I’d at least ask for a walk-in before I psych myself out.” Before Joan could prompt for more of an explanation, the woman blurted, “I really don’t want therapy but after everything that happened to me, I know I need it. And like, your ad said ‘strange and unusual’ and that is just perfect for me!”

Jovial cheer aside, there’s a pain and darkness in her eyes. Joan knows there’s a big story there.

Like any good therapist Joan pockets her key and holds out her hand, “If so then I am Dr. Bright. We can do a quick session now before you ‘psyched’ out if you want.”

Shaking hands, the woman says, “I’m Tatiana Sobrero and yeah, now wouldn’t be a bad time.”

Joan got her office ready, asked Tatiana if she minded to be recorded, she froze up and said ‘hard pass’ and set the recorder aside.

“I think this may be one time thing,” Tatiana said, observing the room like it was a second nature to know her surroundings and find all the threats.

“Are you just visiting town?”

Nodding, she quirked up her lips into a smirk, “I’m doing an interview and tagging along with a bomb squad tonight.”

That’s not quite the strange or unusual Joan expected. “On New Year’s Eve?” That is the main reason why she’s even here right now, to bring back the wine to celebrate with Sam.

Tatiana shrugged, “One of them is a, um, an acquaintance of mine. Just gonna check up on him.”

“I see. Is shadowing a bomb squad part of the reason why you think you need therapy?”

“No but,” Tatiana hesitated with a laugh, “yeah let’s just get into how strange and unusual I am.” She rubbed her palms on her knees and looks to Joan with the most focused eyes, “A very long story short, I got some sort of split personality that gave me incredible healing recovery. They’re name is Bob.”

“Bob,” Joan repeated neutrally. She let herself smile only after Tatiana grinned.

“I didn’t name them.” There’s a hint of sadness as Tatiana explained, “My friend did.”

“So, tell me about Bob and your healing abilities.”

Tatiana slowly chooses her words, “I got serious hurt and almost died but suddenly I popped right back up with my brain rebooting. I was reliving an old memory.” She took a deep breath to refocus, “And when I was A-Okay, Bob came out of nowhere. They only took over me a handful of times.” She even counted on her fingers, “The first time was to, I don’t know, make their selves known and talk to my friend. Actually that’s it. All of their… surfacing was only to my friend.”

“Why do you think that? Is this friend important to you or to Bob?” Joan took in how very hesitant Tatiana is with explaining her story. It was better to be patience, there’s a lot of distrust radiating off of her. She’s more willing to talk about the split personality rather than further explain her healing capabilities. It’s probably for the best since she has to risk her life for it to kick in.

Finally Tatiana pursed an answer with a soft smile and bafflement, “Music, Bob liked the music from my friend’s radio. And they choose my friend to learn from. At one point, my friend,” again there was hesitance.

“You can say a fake name if you wish,” Joan offered, sensing a protective nature from her.

She tilted her head, side to side, debating for only three seconds and decided, “Zach.”

“Zach,” she repeated, “He caught Bob’s attention.”

“Right, yes, at one point Zach got the bright,” Joan instantly noticed a slight giggle from Tatiana on her pun, “idea to intentionally hurt himself to summon up Bob.” There’s a hard edge to her voice, nostrils flaring. “It worked and Bob got super mad at him. Then when I was back in control, I was super, super mad at him.”

She calmed down, wilted more like it, and stared off into space.

Joan asked, “Does Zach need therapy?”

A cold laugh is her response, “Yeah probably because not too long ago, Zach got hurt really bad, like amnesia bad. Around the same time, Bob got hurt too and ever since then, I thought Bob was really gone, but nope.”

“Bob came back to check on Zach to see for their selves,” Joan guessed correctly.

“It was a long while between Zach getting help and me visiting him in person. The moment I stepped into the room, Bob took over. It was brief. All Bob said was ‘You don’t remember me?’ and ‘I’m sadden and sorry’.”

While Tatiana was busy staring at her hands, Joan had to ask some questions.

“How are you able to differentiate yourself and Bob?”

“Um, it’s not an out of body or mind experience, I’m still there. Like I’m sudden in a passenger seat and I can only observe Bob driving my body.”

It wasn’t the same reasons but it was the same metaphor Sam used to describe Mark time traveling them. Joan can work with this.

“Are you unable to feel what Bob’s feeling?”

Biting her lip, Tatiana took her time to really think. “Vaguely but it was always my own emotions. Like Bob was reading me and was learning my emotions to understand that they were also sad. Also, I’m only able feel them when they make their presence known.”

“Learning something appears to be Bob’s main trigger, aside from Zach. Has Bob ever appeared before you met Zach or at least before your adulthood?”

Tatiana blinked and clicked her tongue, “That is something I literally cannot answer. But to the best of my understanding, they genuinely care about him.”

“And how is he doing?”

“Eh,” she began, “possibly has an identity crisis with the whole amnesia thing and him now being a completely different person. Oh right!” Tatiana clapped her hands happily, “The look on everyone’s faces when Bob came back was hilarious. Especially with Doug since he didn’t know that my hands and eyes glow right before Bob takes over.”

Her laugher filled Joan’s office and Joan ignored Tatiana’s small slip up.

So far keeping this session off the record has been a great idea. Who knows what the AM would do with someone with practically resurrecting self-healing along with glowing body parts and a curious split personality.

Once her giddiness died down Joan had one last thing to say, “I don’t think you’re here for advice to coexist with Bob. From the sounds of it, they’re the least of your problems. You implied a lot of traumatic experiences involving friends. For you, peaceful times equal unguarded people and so you’re checking up on your friends.” Tatiana has a harden expression, not angry but more annoyed and impressed by Joan. “When Bob came out of dormancy and took control, you felt like the past is going to repeat.”

“All the disasters that my friends and I faced,” Tatiana said lowly, sad and, as she hugged her arms, probably scared, “it was all because some people wanted to learn from Bob.”

“Learn what?” Tatiana pressed her lips together and shrugged again. Joan asked carefully. “Bob doesn’t have your memories?”

“Oh they do,” she said casually, annoyed. “It’s just that they have their own ways of thinking, beyond my comprehension but did their best to teach it to,” she clicked her tongue, “Zach.”

Joan rubbed her chin, “The last time Bob came, when checking on Zach, were they sad about him forgetting their lessons?”

“I think, well, I know the information was important,” she admitted, “but that wasn’t their priority when they checked in. They probably learned from my emotions to feel grief over the Zach they met.”

If she just first started this session with just talking about her atypical healing abilities and near death experiences, Joan may had have a better understanding.

Instead, the more Tatiana explains about Bob, the less Joan is sure. The split personality having its own identity, yes that makes sense, having certain information blocked from Tatiana, yes that too, but her knowing that none of the information originated from Tatiana is a lot more puzzling.

Bob sounded a lot like an entity rather than a personality disorder.

Joan stopped that train of thought, the less she knew, the less aware the AM will be of Tatiana Sobrero.

“Tatiana, there will be things out of your control that you can’t fault yourself. Also being paranoid about the future can be one of those things.” It looked like she hit the nail as Tatiana nodded. “As for being prepared, checking with your friends is a good plan to ease your mind.” Joan remembered and admitted, “Although, I am a bit wary about your bomb squad friend.”

That got a proud smile from her patient, “I’m not.” She finally relaxed her shoulders, “I think I got everything I need from this. Thanks Dr. Bright.”

A glance from the clock told them that the sun starting to sink, turning blue skies to orange and pink. One last handshake and a promise to be careful had Tatiana Sobrero walking out the door.

As for Joan, she grabbed her wine from under the office desk and headed out, ready for the New Year.

Thanks for reading!

[tickles-tea]

4 a.m.

This is just complete fluff. I'm sorry 

"Shizu-chan..."

Shizuo jolted awake at the sound of an exhausted, and oddly soft, voice. Turning his head to the side, he was met with the half-lidded eyes and lopsided smirk of Orihara Izaya.

He frowned in confusion at their position. Just a second ago, Shizuo had been reclining against the headboard of the bed while he was waiting for Izaya to finish up his-rather unsavory-work. Now though, Shizuo was laying on his side, face partially buried in Izaya's too soft pillows and staring into deep russet eyes.

I didn't even hear him come in. Goddamn sneaky flea..! Shizuo thought, a crease forming between his brows.

Izaya suddenly laughed, startling his companion slightly. "Of course you didn't hear me come in, Shizu-chan! You were soundly asleep and snoring like a beast," he said, amusement clear in his tone. Izaya's comment made Shizuo realize that he had accidentally spoken his thoughts aloud, though he didn't particularly care.

He was slightly surprised to find that Izaya's words hadn't ignited even the smallest spark of anger in his chest. It seemed that he was too tired to get annoyed over a remark so trivial, which was something he was secretly grateful for. After all, it was rather discouraging to succumb to the anger he hated so much because of something as stupid as an offhand comment.

Shizuo's gaze shifted to Izaya's mouth to see the insufferable smirk that he had been expecting despite his sleep muddled thoughts. He dazedly noticed that the left corner of Izaya's lips curled upwards whenever he displayed this particular expression. However, there was something odd about it. The main difference he noted was the overall air of this sly smile. Usually, his grins were sharp and deadly, a threat and a promise at the same time. The expression he wore now seemed somewhat softer. Shizuo thought it might be the dark circles that hung beneath Izaya's eyes or maybe even the little indents on either side of his nose from his reading glasses. Shizuo wasn't able to determine the cause of this change before he felt a sharp tug on his hair.

Startled out of his observation, Shizuo blinked his eyes back into focus to see Izaya frowning. He looked like he was on the verge of being annoyed but was too tired to fully commit to the feeling. Continued silence from Shizuo prompted Izaya to speak up again. "Shizu-chan?"

Another, slightly harder, pull on his hair successfully awoke Shizuo from his dazed stupor. "I was asleep?" He grumbled, bringing a hand up to try to rub the lingering sleep from his eyes. Izaya let out a hum and nodded; the frown from before had eased and amusement danced in his eyes in place of the irritation. A thin hand gently carded through Shizuo's hair, as if in silent apology for the tugging from before.

Shizuo sighed and leaned into the touch. Being with Izaya meant harsh words, charming excuses, and sometimes even silence for days on end. But it also meant blinding smiles, thoughtful surprises, and the love that Shizuo thought he'd never experience. Izaya trusted him in a way no one else could and, because of that, Shizuo was willing to deal with the good and the bad sides of Izaya. 

This included his ability to stay up until the ass crack of dawn.

"You know you don't have to wait up for me, right? I told you I wouldn't be done for a few more hours," Izaya said, closing his eyes with a quiet sigh. "Tsukumoya was being more difficult than usual, so it took even longer than I anticipated."

Izaya's fingers were tracing random patterns through Shizuo's hair and Shizuo's face was one of peace and contentment. That expression, however, was replaced in favor of one with much more aggression. "Ah? He made you stay up 'till three-"

"Four," Izaya quickly corrected.

"'Til four in the morning," Shizuo continued, frowning even harder than before. "I don't care if he's a UI or whatever-"

"AI."

"I'll kill him," he said definitively and with a short nod. No one had the right to make Izaya get even less sleep than he normally did. They'd gotten into arguments about Izaya's ridiculous sleep schedule before, and though they always ended with tired glares and waining patience on both ends, Shizuo still tried his damnedest to make sure Izaya got at least five hours of uninterrupted sleep. If Shizuo remembered correctly, Izaya had a client coming over at seven in the morning and the flea always woke up well before his meetings.

What all of that means is that Izaya was probably already thinking about saying to hell with it and not sleeping at all, which was absolutely unacceptable.

"I can tell what you're thinking, and it's not that big of a deal. I can just take a nap after my client leaves and I'll be well rested before my meeting with Shiki-san," Izaya said breezily, moving his caressing fingers from Shizuo's hair to behind his ear. He knew that if he didn't diffuse this now it could lead to a fight, even if it'd only be a small one. "Shizu-chan is getting worked up too easily. Hey, I wonder if I can calm him down like a dog..." he mumbled to himself before scratching behind Shizuo's ear gently. "Dogs like having their ears scratched so maybe beasts do too."

Izaya, likely expecting a growl, was surprised when his action instead prompted a twitch and a gasp. He was even more baffled to see the glimpse of a smile curling at the sides of Shizuo's mouth.

Being as clever as he was, Izaya caught on rather quickly and adopted a grin that promised nothing but trouble. Shizuo could practically feel the mischief radiating off of him in waves. "Is Shizu-chan a bit ticklish here? How cute!" Izaya laughed, snickering even more when he saw Shizuo's blushing face.

Not nearly as amused, Shizuo reached up and firmly grasped the laughing bastard's wrist. "Shut up and go to sleep." He settled himself back into the pillow and, perhaps foolishly, released Izaya's wrist. He hoped that his boyfriend would behave himself and see that they both needed to sleep. While it was understandable for one's judgement to be impaired late at night, anyone in any state of mind should know that Izaya Orihara should not be trusted.

So really, he shouldn't have been so surprised when Izaya reached out again to skitter his fingers from behind Shizuo's ear down to his collarbone.

Shizuo jerked back, but Izaya was as quick as ever and moved with him, hands never stopping their motion. They spidered all across his neck, around his ears, and even going as far as his shoulders.

Shizuo couldn't stop the growly chuckles from escaping his lips even if he tried. He didn't see the point in trying to hide his reactions. He'd only look like a fool if he were to deny that he was ticklish. It wasn't something he was particularly ashamed of-after all, Izaya was much worse-but in the face of Izaya's stupid smirk, he couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. The bastard almost looked like he was looking down at Shizuo, like he was interacting with a child rather than his own boyfriend. The way he was teasing Shizuo did nothing to show otherwise.

"How pathetic! The strongest man in Ikebukuro is blushing like a schoolgirl! How does it feel when I touch here? Does it tickle?" Izaya was surely purring out more taunts, but Shizuo tried to drown them out with his own interjections of insults.

"Knock it off, you shihihitty flea!" He barked out around his laughter, trying to keep a grip on Izaya's wrists that wasn't too strong nor too loose. He'd instinctively reached up to still those terrible hands, but he'd managed to stop himself from pulling them away. There was no doubt in his mind that he was more than capable of putting a stop to this, and judging from the puzzled glint in Izaya's eye, he knew the same.

So why wasn't he?

It certainly couldn't have anything to do with the genuine contentment he could see in Izaya's eyes or the soft smile that was slowly replacing that intolerable smirk. Surely, Izaya was leeching the strength from his body with some sort of dark magic.

That dark magic must have been sapping Izaya's own strength, because his wiggling fingers slowed and settled themselves across Shizuo's nape. When Shizuo looked at his face, he saw flushed cheeks and an embarrassed pout.

"...'Zaya?" he questioned once he'd caught his breath, but his boyfriend remained quiet.

The only response he received was the blanket being tugged away as Izaya turned his body, his back now facing Shizuo. Shizuo's brow twitched in annoyance at being so clearly ignored, but Izaya spoke up then. "Stupid Shizu-chan has no right making faces like that."

"What are you talking about?" Shizuo asked, a little irritated at Izaya's sudden mood change. He knew what he was getting into when he confessed to Izaya all those years ago, but time has not made it any easier to deal with him. No amount of time would make it easier, he was sure.

A muffled groan sounded from Izaya's side of the bed. Blush having faded for the most part, Izaya looked over his shoulder at Shizuo with a weak glare. "You're so oblivious, it's exhausting," he said, opening his mouth as if to speak again. He hesitated for a second before continuing, albeit with some reluctance. "I mean beasts like you shouldn't be allowed to look that cute. Now shut up and go to sleep," he said, unintentionally mimicking Shizuo's earlier words. "I'm tired." Izaya turned away again and pulled more of the blanket away from Shizuo, probably out of spite.

Shizuo's eyes widened at the compliment poorly disguised as an insult. Izaya was stingy with genuine compliments so it was surprising that he would say something like this so openly. The dismissal following it was obviously added as a cover up but perhaps there was some truth to it. After all, the only way he would've said such a thing would be because exhaustion had loosened his tongue. A quick look at the alarm clock on the nightstand showed that it was nearing 4:45 am.

Realizing that they both really needed to get to sleep-he hadn't forgotten about Izaya's early meeting-Shizuo decided to let him off easy. He could always bring up this moment later, so for now he just let out a soft chuckle and pulled Izaya's body close against his chest.

"Yeah, alright. Goodnight, 'Zaya," he murmured, lips brushing against the back of Izaya's neck.

There was a beat of silence before he got a reply, quiet but content.

"Goodnight, Shizu-chan."

[eldritadh]

One thing I’ve noticed about the whole ‘hiring people to clean’ discourse is that ... the criticism always lands on women or femme people. Men are seemingly exempt. 

Who is being called out for not ‘performing feminism’ correctly? Because it sure ain’t men.

When a single man hires someone to clean, it’s ‘oh, poor man, his house doesn’t have a woman’s touch, of course he needs outside help!’ That is, if it’s even brought up and not considered completely natural and obvious.

When a single woman hires someone to clean, it’s ‘that woman should be doing the cleaning herself, she’s a bad feminist for standing on the shoulders of other women and making them do demeaning labor for her benefit!’

In a traditional Nuclear Family, the role of the wife was to clean (among other things), while the role of the husband was to go to work and make money. In this arrangement, responsibilities were shared; one person wasn’t responsible for everything, and domestic tasks were overwhelmingly carried out by women. Nowadays, there are a lot more families that... don’t have that arrangement. Single parents or just single people, families where both or multiple parents have jobs -- situations that don’t allow a lot of time to keep a house clean. We don’t live in big families or communities anymore, where tasks are shared. We live in a capitalist hellscape where everyone (except in rare cases) has to be employed just to make ends meet. Acknowledging that you need someone else to pick up the slack isn’t a fucking moral failing, it’s a systemic one.

I’m going to provide two real examples from my own life: my dad and my mom. And I want you to think about how each of these situations, viewed from the outside, would have been perceived and deconstructed.

For a while when I was in middle school, my financially struggling, very able-bodied, 40-something single dad brought in people to clean. They were a rotating team of women whose names I never learned, hired through a middleman company, which meant that they probably couldn’t set their own rates. They didn’t do a very good job, so I assume they were on the clock to rush off to their next assignment as quickly as possible. In that situation, there were no winners -- not the women being paid (what I assume were) starvation wages to run themselves ragged; not me, a child who deserved to live in a house not crawling with mold and dust bunnies; and not my father, a man who had grown up too privileged to learn how to clean, fallen on hard times, and was working his ass off most of the time to keep me somewhat fed.

Now, my mom. My siblings and I are all grown up and out of the house, so at the moment, it’s just her and the cats and her ridiculously long workdays. She is not struggling financially, but her workdays (including and excluding commute, pre and post-COVID, respectively) last from 8 AM to 6 PM if she’s lucky; honestly, now that I’m not around and keeping her to a strict dinner schedule, I’m not sure she’s not working 13-hour days.

Several years ago, she hired a woman (let’s call her May) to come clean for her twice a month. My mom’s reason for it, at the time, was that she absolutely hates to clean. So she was willing to pay someone to do it for her. No greater reason, from her perspective.

But then she got the cats. And then she threw her back out and was in the hospital for a few weeks (and still can’t lift anything). And then COVID hit and now she's working absolutely ridiculous hours at a job she hates. And through it all, there’s one person who has been coming (with a 4-month hiatus at the beginning of the pandemic) to relieve some of the burden. My mom paid May throughout those four months, too, even though she wasn’t physically present. Then, when May felt safe coming to our apartment, mom gave her a raise. And a holiday bonus. And then another raise after the holidays. She’s not a housekeeper or ~*~pArT oF tHe FaMiLy~*~ ; she’s someone who performs an extremely important service and gets paid for it, like an electrician or a lawyer, and is treated with courtesy and basic human dignity that is also represented financially.

And still... who would be criticized more for hiring someone to clean? My single working dad, or my single working mom? Who do you feel is more deserving of outside help?

My mom pays May for help in the same way that she pays a lawyer or a doctor for help. It’s a different sort of labor, but the difference doesn’t lie in the labor’s value -- it lies in the way its value is perceived, and how clients treat their providers. May, like a lawyer, sets her own rates -- but because her labor is perceived as less important, she doesn’t get to charge as much. Her clients, like my mom, have to make up the difference if they feel it’s necessary -- which most probably don’t.

So if you feel the need to berate a woman who hires another woman to clean but not a woman who hires a man to fix the toilet -- or if you’re happy to let it slide when a man hires a woman to clean, but wouldn’t extend the same compassion to a woman -- it says something about who you believe should be performing certain types of labor, and how much you value the labor most commonly assigned to women.

[ktwrites]

Genre: Modern AU Pairing: Jonerys (of course). Rating: Still T for now. Summary: Dany finds herself confiding in Sansa and Arya while Jon reaches a potential breakthrough with the help of Bran and Sam.

 “Did you change your hair?” Sansa asked as Dany unzipped her coat. She was walking through the godswood near the house with Jon’s sisters and beloved dog, Ghost. It had been cool and gray when they left, but as the sun began to seep through the tree branches the forest floor warmed and their coats were no longer necessary.

 “Since I last saw you? Hmmmm I don’t think so, why?”

 “You just look a little different.”

 “I probably just look tired, that’s all.”

 “No,” the redhead clarified. “Not different in a bad way.”

 “Just different,” Arya added.

 Dany stopped in her tracks and stared at the two Stark sisters. It took them a moment to realize she was no longer walking in stride between them and they both stopped a few feet away and turned to face her. Sansa and Arya were as different as two sisters could be and yet, they were also incredibly similar, but Dany knew better than to tell either one of them that. Sansa’s long red hair was braided neatly over her shoulder while Arya’s brown hair was cropped short, just long enough to be pulled back halfway. Sansa was tall and elegant, but Arya was short and quick. Both sisters were fiercely loyal to Jon. Despite being in an open wood, Dany felt cornered.

 “Thanks,” she said, ducking her head and avoiding their eyes. “But I really don’t know what you’re getting on about.”

 “Arya heard you throwing up in the bathroom this morning,” Sansa blurted out.

 “And?”

 “And you barely pretended to eat anything this morning,” Arya added.

 “Like I told Jon, I wasn’t feeling well this morning. It must’ve been something I ate last night,” Dany said, perpetuating the excuse she had used with her fiance.

 “We all had the same thing to eat last night. Sansa made it. If it had been the food don’t you think more than one of us would have been sick.”

 Normally calm and collected under pressure, Dany felt like she was running out of options quickly. Jon’s sisters clearly suspected something or else they wouldn’t have continued their interrogation level of questioning. She weighed her options.      If     she was pregnant, stress wasn’t good for a baby. Keeping the truth all to herself was nearly impossible. Had they been back in King’s Landing she had no doubt that she would have already confided in Missandei. As it was, Dany had tried to compose a text to her best friend nearly a dozen times but couldn’t find the right words to convey something so personal. What was more, she had scarcely been away from Jon since they left for their trip to the North and she knew Missandei would have called her the moment she read a text. So she kept everything bottled up tight within her. She looked down at the ground and collected herself before looking back up and Sansa and then Arya.

 “Alright,” she sighed. “The thing is...you see, there’s a chance that I might be...pregnant.”

 And then the floodgates opened.

 Dany did not give herself over to tears easily. Years of enduring her brother’s cruelty had steeled her nerves and emotions.      Stop crying    , he would say.      We are the blood of the dragon    . Whatever that meant. He said this whenever they would have to pack up their things and move from one house to another. When she was little, Viserys would tell her that they had to move because one of their father’s business adversaries had convinced their foster homes to give them up. As she grew older, Dany realized that it was Viserys’s erratic and sometimes volatile behavior that was the cause.

 “Seven hells,” Arya cursed. “Look what you’ve gone and done now.”

 “Me?” Sansa argued. “You’re the one who told me she was throwing up!”

 Ghost ambled over to Dany and nudged her hand, as if willing her to stop crying. She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand and then ruffled his fur. He had taken to Dany surprisingly well when they first met. Jon had told her that Ghost didn’t like many people. He had been a rescue and Jon had taken him in when he was just a puppy. He was small and an albino so the animal shelter told him that the breeders probably didn’t think anyone would want him. Since that day, Ghost and Jon were nearly inseparable.

 And then along came Dany. Ghost didn’t take well to strangers, except for Dany and right from the beginning, too. It was something Jon had never seen before.

 “How about we head back to the house,” Dany suggested, bringing a halt to the sister’s squabblings. “Then I can explain more.”

 XXXXX

 “Here,” Sansa said, handing Dany a cup of tea. “Drink this.”

 “Thanks.”

 When they had returned to the house Jon, Sam, and Bran were all still mercifully gone but Dany, Sansa, and Arya had still retreated to Sansa’s large bedroom. Since the death of her parents and older brother, Sansa had moved into the master suite of Winterfell. Really, it was only fair. As the oldest surviving child of Ned and Cat she had inherited the house and because she went to college nearby she lived at home and oversaw everything. While Dany and Arya tucked themselves into the soft sofa and chair, Sansa went down to the kitchen to prepare tea for them.

 “Does Jon know?” Arya asked.

 “No,” Dany replied, thumbing the handle of her mug. “I’ve only just admitted to myself that it’s a possibility.”

 “How did this happen?” Sansa asked. “I mean...I know      how     but you said-.”

 “I know, I know. I don’t know how other than I thought that it wasn’t something we had to worry about and so we weren’t ever careful.

 “You need to tell Jon,” Arya said softly. “He deserves to know.”

 “I know he does,” Dany admitted. “But I can’t. Until I’m certain I don’t want to tell him and get his hopes up.”

 “You’ve not taken a test yet?” Sansa asked.

 Dany shook her head and took a sip of tea. She had come close not long before they left King’s Landing. She had run to the store to pick up some last minute things for their trip and had wandered down the aisle with the pregnancy tests. It was overwhelming. The multitude of brands and types of tests had left her flustered and fleeing the aisle. And what if she had run into someone she knew? What if the cashier checking her out somehow knew her? What if it didn’t ring up correctly and they needed to do a price check? Instead, Dany bought what she came for and left the store without another thought.

 “Well then you      need     to take a test.”

 “I know.”

 Dany felt like a broken record. Of course she      knew    that all of this seemed improbable, impossible even. She      knew    that Jon should be told, and she most definitely      knew    that she needed to take a test to confirm what she suspected. And yet...and yet a fear held her heart gripped so tightly in a vise that it nearly took her breath away every time she tried to think about any one of those circumstances.

 “Are you scared?” Arya asked.

 “Honestly? Terrified.”

 “Scared that it’ll be positive or scared that it’ll be negative?”

 “That’s just it. I don’t know.”

 XXXXX

 “Are you sure about this?” Dany asked as she watched Arya unbuckle her seatbelt.

 “Absolutely. Look, we drove all the way to Hornwood for this. We might as well get what we came for.”

 Once Dany had gotten word from Jon that he and Bran wouldn’t be back from their afternoon with Sam until later that night she was convinced by Arya and Sansa to buy and take an at home pregnancy test. They’d agreed that it would be better to drive out of town and when Dany still seemed hesitant about going in to buy the test herself, Arya had willingly volunteered.

 “I’ll be swift like a Faceless Man,” she had said.

 “Those don’t actually exists,” Sansa protested.        

 “I mean that I’ll be in and out before anyone even knows I’m there.”

 That made Dany feel slightly better. Simply being with Arya and Sansa seemed to put her at ease. It was as if a small bit of weight had been lifted off of her shoulders now that someone else knew about her situation.

 “Take this,” Dany said, handing Arya a few bills from her wallet.

 “Gods, how expensive are those things?” Arya asked.

 “Buy more than one, idiot,” Sansa explained with a roll of her eyes. “Buy more than one brand.”

 “Gotcha, I’ll be back!”

 Within seven minutes- not that Dany was watching the clock- Arya was back in the car, brown paper bag sitting next to her in the back seat and Sansa started the engine and began driving back to Winterfell. Dany began drinking the bottle of water she had brought along with her. Within forty-five minutes they were back at the house, following each other back into Sansa’s room and closing the door behind them. Within fifty minutes they were all anxiously waiting for the time on Dany’s phone to tell them that three minutes had passed since she came out of the master bathroom.

 “I feel like I need a glass of wine,” Sansa said.

 “Or a cigarette,” Arya replied.

 “You don’t even smoke.”

 “Exactly, that’s how nervous I am.”

 “You’re nervous?” Dany chimed in. “It’s      my     test. I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

DING. DING. DING. DING.

 The three young women fell silent and merely stared at Dany’s phone until she turned off the alarm.

 “I can’t look,” she practically whined.

 “Everything will be fine,” Sansa assured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No matter what.”

 “I’m still not ready.”

 Neither Dany nor Sansa had seen Arya get up from her spot on the end of Sansa’s bed and stalk towards the bathroom. She came out holding the test in a piece of tissue in her hand.

 “It’s negative,” Arya said evenly, almost definitively.

 “Oh,” Dany heard herself reply. She felt like someone had ripped a bandage off, leaving her with a throbbing pained feeling.  She knew she should have been relieved, but instead she felt empty. She should have felt like a weight had further been lifted off her shoulders, instead she felt like she had been crushed under an immovable rock. “Wow... I mean that’s good news, right? I mean it’s what I expected, to be honest. I definitely didn’t get my hopes up thinking I might actually be pregnant, that the doctors had been wrong all along. I didn’t lie in bed and think about what our baby might look like or how we’d decorate a nursery or anything like that. It’s for the best anyway. Now we can just go right along with the plan like we always wanted to.”

 “Dany, if you’re disappointed it’s natural,” Sansa offered.

 “I was terrified. Terrified that for once I might actually get something I wanted so badly. Something I know Jon wants and it just kills me that I can’t give it to him.”

 “Well you can,” Arya murmured and Dany’s head snapped up.

 “What?”

 “You can give Jon that. The test is positive.”

 “But you said it was negative,” Sansa said.

 “I know. I saw it on a TV show one time.”

 “Seven hells, Arya! Give it to me,” Dany stood and snatched the test from Arya so she could see with her own eyes that the two lines indicated that she was indeed pregnant.

 Thirty minutes, two bottles of water, a glass of wine for Sansa, and two more positive pregnancy tests later, Dany sat in stunned silence. Her mind spun in thousands of different directions. Part of it dwelled on the impossibility of it all. Another part on how this would change every part of their lives. Still another part on what she was going to say to Jon.

 “What are you going to tell him?” Sansa asked, sensing Dany’s thoughts as only someone as close as family could do.

 “I don’t know yet,” Dany admitted. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

 “But you      are     going to tell him, right?” Arya asked.

 “Of course. Besides, he’s bound to notice it eventually anyway.”

 “Why wait?” Sansa wondered aloud. “I don’t get it. You know he’ll be happy about it.”

 “I know he’ll be happy about the baby,” Dany said. “I’m worried he’ll be upset with      me    . What if he thinks I lied to him? What if he’s mad about the timing? What if I lose-.”

 “Stop right there. Nothing is going to happen.”

 “You don’t know that.”

 Sansa started to protest but seemingly changed her mind. “Do you have any idea how far along you might be?” she asked instead.

 Dany let out a puff of air and tried to reckon the days in her head.

 “Not exactly,” she admitted. “I missed last month altogether. It would be due to come again next week so I guess I’m nearly two months late…”

 “I could see if you feel like you need to wait until you see a doctor before telling Jon,” Arya said. “That’s fair. But then you need to tell Jon.”

 “You two won’t tell him?”

 “It’s not our news to tell,” Sansa agreed.

 “I’m glad the two of you know. I’m glad      someone     else knows. It was eating away at me.”

 “Your secret is safe with us for now. What are sisters for?”

 XXXXX

 “There you are,” Dany smiled at Jon as he walked through his bedroom door. It was late and despite being wiped out from the events of the day she had wanted to stay up and wait for him. “You’re later than I expected.”

 After saying goodnight to Sansa and Arya she retreated back to Jon’s room, changed into his black Night’s Watch shirt, and climbed under the covers. She tried to read one of the books she brought with her, but found that her mind kept wandering towards whether or not she should share her news with her fiance.      It’s our news    , she reasoned.      He’ll be excited about it. He’ll want to go to the doctor with you. Just tell him    .

 “Sorry,” Jon replied, a glimmer shining in his grey eyes. “A lot to catch up on with Sam and with Bran.”

 “Don’t apologize. You look happy. Did Bran find something out?”

 “Not exactly, not yet anyway, but there is some good news.”

 Dany set her book on the nightstand and watched Jon as he moved about the room getting ready for bed. He pulled off his shirt and jeans, removed his contacts, and crawled into bed next to her. Leaning over he kissed her soundly until she pulled away.

 “Well hello to you, too. I have news, too.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah, but you first.”

 “It’s all a bit complicated, but the gist of it is that Bran thinks he may be able to track down who my mother is by hacking into hospital databases.”

 “Is that legal?”

 “Not at all,” Jon laughed. “Sam and I will have to pretend it’s not illegal.”

 “How does it work? What is he looking for?”

 “He’s going to try to search for my name to start with and then narrow it down by area based on what we know.”

 “Which isn’t a lot to go off of,” Dany pointed out.

 “No,” Jon agreed. “It’s not, but it’s a start. Even if we can get it narrowed down to a reasonable number we have something more to go off of.”

 “You’ll have a starting point at the very least.”  

 “My mother might be out there somewhere. She might be alive. I might get to meet her.”

 “That’s amazing,” Dany said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him. “Really, I’m so happy for you.”

 “Your turn. What were you going to tell me, love?”

 Dany wasn’t sure what changed from the time Jon walked into the room so full of hope for the future, but she could no longer bring herself to tell him about the results of the three pregnancy tests she took earlier that evening. He was so excited about potentially finding his mother and she felt her throat tighten at the mere idea of telling him the truth right then and there. Despite what Sansa and Arya had assured her of, she still worried about what his reaction would be. She couldn’t bring herself to potentially ruin the day he had with her news.

 “Oh…” Dany said, shaking her head. “Nothing nearly as exciting. We picked out bridesmaid dresses. That’s all.”

 “Well that’s great,” Jon smiled. “What color are they? You actually got Sansa and Arya to agree on something?”

 “Lavender, just like we talked about before.” she easily lied. “Sort of. They’re wearing the same dress in different style. Missandei, Sansa, and Arya get to pick out whatever style they want.”

 “I suppose the gents should start looking at suits.”

 “There’s still plenty of time. You’ve had other things on your mind.”

 “I was thinking...maybe tomorrow...you, me, and the hot springs,” Jon suggested. “How does that sound?”

 “Absolutely lovely,” Dany smiled, at ease once more.

 Later that night while Jon was sound asleep Dany lie awake staring through the darkness up at the ceiling. His breathing was soothing, yet sleep still evaded her. Slowly, she slid her hand over her still flat stomach, something she hadn’t allowed herself to do until that moment. It was real now. Beneath her fingertips was a miracle, a child she and Jon had created, whether intentionally or not. She would tell Jon soon, she decided. When the time was right.

[searchingforaplacetocallhome]

Everything About You (Kandomere x OFC Pt 5)

Setting: Bright movie-verse

Characters: Kandomere & Topaz Bennett (OFC)

Warnings: strong language possibly

Background: Topaz Bennett was the brightest student of her class, always the hardest worker in the room and it finally landed her a much coveted spot on Homeland Security’s Magic Task Force. By a cruel twist of fate, her new ‘partner’ turns out to be an elf named Kandomere, who seems to think it is his task not only to train her as the new agent on the task force, but educate her on pretty much anything else as well.

“Now this is a story all about how My life got flipped-turned upside down And I’d like to take a minute Just sit right there I’ll tell you how I became the servant of an Elf called Kandomere”

Word count: 2239

tag list: @echoesandwhispersanddarkthoughts @xtequilaxmockingbirdx @kandomerx

If you wish to be added to the taglist, just leave a message in the comments, and I will add you from now on.

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4

Part 5 - Lady In Red

“Well that was a colossal waste of time...”

Pulling her boots off, Topaz dropped them and groaned as her feet flattened against the plush carpet.  They had spent all night in interrogation and they still weren’t even a sliver closer to finding out where the wand was and who, besides them, was all after it. If she had to take a guess Inferni were involved, but it really could be any coven, as several were represented in the Elven district here. Whatever the case, the Shield of Light didn’t seem to be involved. At least the two in custody didn’t brandish the tattoo.

“Not entirely,” Kandomere spoke as he closed the door behind them.

“We just spent like 7 hours in that shit hole trying to get those schmucks to talk, and they didn’t flinch.”

“Exactly,” he said, and smirked in that creepy way that told her he knew something she didn’t. “They didn’t flinch.”

This caused Topaz to pause, the socks she had just pulled off her feet still in hand and her toes spreading a little as they sank into the carpet. It almost derailed her train of thought. Shifting on her feet a little, she gave a curious head tilt. “They didn’t flinch,” she repeated his words, trying to catch his train of thought, and closed her eyes a moment when she realized the connection she hadn’t made before. “No flinching, because someone trained them, and I know that look. You just had an idea.”

“I do have a few ideas, but they require some preparation.”

Pursing her lips, Topaz debated whether or not she wanted to ask him what those ideas were and what kind of preparation it required, but from past experiences she had learned that Kandomere always gave her just the information he was willing to share, and asking for more only got her frustrated. “Okay. Will this preparation take long?”

“Long enough for you to rest, yes.”

Topaz let out a little sound of excitement, turning to head to her bedroom.

“Topaz...”

Pressing her lips together, she resisted the urge to give him a smart retort and turned around with an annoyed ‘what?’ look.

He had taken off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. His gaze went from her down to the discarded boots on the ground and back.

For real?

Balling her hands into fists, she wanted to tell him very much that if the boots bothered him, he could move them, but this was just the first day, and she had a feeling she would have to share a living space with him for the majority of the week. It was probably best not to get into a fight over something as stupid as her boots right off the bat. Swallowing her pride, she snatched up the boots and made sure he saw her flinging them into her room.

Her butt bumped the door closed, her eyes on her phone to look through her messages. Her finger hovered over Genny’s number when her phone started buzzing and her name appeared on the screen. Swiping her finger over the screen she answered the call. “You must have some crazy ESP, girl. I was literally just about to call you.”

“Oh really? I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Uh huh, sure. You want to know things, elfie things.” Topaz chuckled when Genny tried her best to deny it. She knew better though. For some reason, the more Kandomere ignored her, the bigger her crush became on the elf. “Before you hit me with the twenty questions though, I need a favor.”

“Anything, chica. Whatcha need?”

“If I wire you some money, would you mind going by my landlord later and pay my rent? She’s getting antsy and I don’t wanna come home to all my stuff out in the street.”

“Yeah, of course. Just text me when you’ve wired the money.”

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” Cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she wiggled her pants down her hips, Using one of her feet, she threw the garment up in the air so she could catch it without bending over. “I really need to find something cheaper, so if you hear anything, let me know, please.”

“You know, if you’re having trouble making rent, I have an extra bedroom. Splitting rent would make it easier on both of us.”

It was a tempting offer, one she was seriously considering, but she didn’t want to jump right in. She had bad experiences with roommates in the past. “Not sure you’d be able to put up with my messy ass.”

“You don’t have to say yes right away. Just think about it, come by when you get back, get a feel of the place and we’ll talk about it.”

It was a reasonable offer. “Alright. Hang on.” Shrugging her blouse off, she put the phone down long enough to toss her blouse on the chair in the corner and slip on the t-shirt she had brought to sleep in, not wanting to risk Kandomere walking in on her naked again. “Back. Okay, ask away. Just know I am silently judging you.”

“FYI, it’s not very silent when you tell me about it. So what’s it like?”

“It’s Vegas. Loud, in your face, and very superficial.”

“I don’t mean the city, I figured that much.”

“Lush carpet, too much white, amazing bed...” Topaz moaned, sinking back into the pillows and pulling the sheets up to her waist. “The view is pretty decent too. The only downside is I have to share it with Captain Grumpypants.”

“Ugh. You are so lucky. I am so jealous right now.”

“Genny, I love you, but you’re hopeless. Need I remind you he’s my boss?”

“That just makes it hotter. He’s your boss, you’re the subordinate...”

“Okay, I am gonna hang up on you. I need sleep, not nightmares. I’ll text you.” Ending the call, she tossed her phone on the bed beside her. Sinking down further into the pillows, she let out a content sigh. She could definitely get used to these assignments if she got so sleep in beds like these.

Kandomere proved once more that subtlety and tact were not his strong points, when he all but barged into her room and stated it was time to get up. It felt like she had passed out minutes before, but the clock disputed that feeling. Rubbing the sleep from her face, she dragged her unwilling body out of bed, and with toiletries under her arm, she all but sprinted across the living area to the bathroom for a quick shower.

She heard a knock on the door while she was drying off, followed by Kandomere speaking to someone. Slipping on the impossibly soft bathrobe, she tied it up and peeked out of the bathroom before she emerged. Kandomere was carrying a black clothing bag on a hanger, disappearing into his bedroom with it. What on earth was he up to?

Looking in on him, she watched him unzip the bag and reveal an expensive looking suit. Didn’t he bring enough of his own? Things just kept getting more and more curious.

“You should get dressed.”

His voice cut through her thoughts and her gaze shot up to meet his. “For what? Where are we going?”

“Elven district. Those tattoos those guys were sporting weren’t random, or some gang affiliation. There is a club where Elves go to meet humans.”

“I thought humans were servants?”

Kandomere laughed.

It clicked. She had heard about Elves keeping humans as pets before. It was some sort of fetish she didn’t understand, but to each their own. “Oh. I see.”

“We leave in thirty minutes.”

The tone of his voice urging her into action. “Right. Wait, I didn’t bring anything other than work clothes.”

Her comment got a smirk from him. “Check your room.”

Now she was convinced he was up to something. Curiosity got the better of her, so instead of asking him, she went into her bedroom to find a similar bag hanging from her closet door. Unzipping it she revealed a sea of red, her fingertips gliding over the fabric told her it was silk, not satin. This was an expensive dress.

Slipping her robe off, she struggled with the slippery fabric, getting her head through the opening only to realize she had the dress twisted. Muttering some curses under her breath, she finally got her arms through the straps correctly, smoothing out the top which fit eerily perfect over her curves. Having the dress somewhat figured out, she stepped in front of the mirror to look at her reflection.

“This can’t be right...”

The red strappy dress had a plunging neckline, the bodice form hugging, but what didn’t make it look right to her was the full length flowing skirt, with a split running way up the front on either side, so that when she stood there, not only her legs, but her panties peeked out as well. This definitely couldn’t be right.

“Are you sure this is the right dress?” she called out.

Kandomere appeared behind her, wearing black pressed pants, and a white button up shirt, which still had the top few buttons undone, a silk tie hanging loose around his neck. He wasn’t wearing shoes either, which took her a little aback. For a moment she just stared at him in the reflection of the mirror, committing the view to memory because she wouldn’t likely see him like this again.

Looking her up and down, he looked dead serious when he nodded. “Yes.”

Topaz snorted, looking over her reflection, tugging on the dress here or there. “This thing makes me look like you bought me for the night.” The gears in her mind started to work overtime, making the connections she really didn’t want to make, and her eyes went wide. “You want me to play a hooker?!”

“Escort,” he answered as casually as possible, buttoning the cuffs on his shirt like what he was telling her was the most normal thing. His eyes and the little smirk betrayed his amusement.

Her eyes were shooting daggers when she snapped her head to look at him directly, clenched fists ready to wipe the look off his face. He disappeared from view before she could act on the impulse. Growling in frustration, she snatched up one of her boots and threw it at the empty doorway.

How was this happening? Her first assignment, and she was going to be playing the working girl. This was beyond humiliating. She could barge into the other room and demand that they used some other strategy, but she knew he had a point. Her usual attire screamed law enforcement, and Elves in their own district weren’t going to even acknowledge her existence, let alone answer her questions.

So what’s bigger, Taz, your sense of duty or your pride?

Closing her eyes, she counted to ten until the urge to punch Kandomere in the face subsided. “Swallow your pride and do your job. You’ve gone undercover before. It’s just acting.” Talking to her reflection helped, and nodding, she finished up getting ready. She was almost finished when she spotted the one glaring flaw to her look. She definitely needed to wear something else.

Hoping against hope, she dug through her suitcase to find anything besides her regulars, but she found nothing. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell she was going out there without underwear, undercover or not. Something told her to look behind the zipper that was lining the inside of her suitcase, and what she found made her both sigh in relief and want to strangle Genny at the same time.

When they had packed up her go bag together, Genny found a way to sneak some of her lingerie in as well. Picking up the black lacy thong, she quickly switched her panties for it, checking her reflection to make sure they didn’t peek out. Satisfied, she flipped the suitcase closed, and pushed it back in the closet.

“Ready?”

Kandomere was leaning in the doorway, now fully dressed, including a black vest and jacket, but one thing was missing. His gorget. It made sense though, it was a very recognizable item, and his reputation might precede him if he wore it. Like her work clothes, it would make the Elves suspicious and defensive.

A pair of strappy heels were dangling from two fingers and he held them out after taking in the view and nodding approvingly. She snatched them from his hand and sat down on the foot of the bed to put them on. Kandomere disappeared from sight once again. “Lord, give me the strength not to kill him.”

Put your game face on.

Standing up straight, she took a moment to get used to the heels, which were surprisingly comfortable despite being inches higher than her usual footwear. The heels did something to her, making her sashay a little, which was one of the reasons she didn’t normally wear them, but it helped put her in character now.

Her eyes narrowed, glaring at him when he offered his arm. Slipping her hand under to curl her fingers around, she let him lead them to the elevator. She could feel his gaze on her as she stared ahead at the elevator doors when they closed. 

“I hate you.”

[arrow-guy]

Angel

A/N: Alright, so!! here is the fic that I just barely managed to finish last night before going to bed. I’ve been working on this baby since last december, so it’s been a long time coming. I hope you guys like it!!

Pairing: TonyxReader

Word Count: 5748

Warnings: Angst, self harm, mentions of suicide

I shouldn’t have come.

“Hey guys, this is (Y/N), she’s going to be working with us for a while.” Barton ushers me into the room filled with Avengers.

Just smile, (Y/N). Act like you’re just a normal powered person, they won’t know the difference.

“(Y/N), huh?” It’s Stark. “What’s your specialty, sweetheart? You don’t look super to me.”

Of course, snark right off the bat. Angel could have too much fun with him.

“Bio-mech, Mr. Stark.” I answer his question with a relatively flat tone. “As for my power, I really hope no one has to deal with her for the time being.”

“Oh, so your power’s a she?” He cocks an eyebrow, questioning me silently.

“With all due respect, sir, she and I are two completely different creatures. I would feel really bad if she got loose around such important people,” The less they know, the safer they are. Who knows what Angel would to them do if she took over.

“Got loose...” Banner mumbles. “Is she anything like… well, like the Hulk?”

“The two of them couldn’t be more different, Dr. Banner.” I sigh and force my hands to stay at my sides so that I won't rub at my temples, a steady headache forming behind my eyes. “I realize that she’s intriguing, but she’s dangerous. I would much rather speak to Mr. Rogers, Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner about her alone and allow them to fill you in as they see fit.”

“Why those three?” The Maximoff girl inquires.

“Because they’ll be the most affected by her and know how to deal with the situation.” I shake my head. “I would like to talk to you too, Ms. Maximoff. Later, though.”

“Alright.” She nods and I smile softly at her before turning back to the three men I had addressed previously.

“You said you wanted to speak to us?” Rogers asks.

“Yes, but is there somewhere more private we could do so?”

“Of course, (Y/N),” Stark places his hand in the small of my back to guide me and my body immediately stiffens.

“Please don’t do that.” I whisper, carefully removing his hand. “She likes physical contact. It’s dangerous.”

“Alright,” He concedes much more readily than I was expecting him to, and I’m grateful for it.

Dr. Banner leads us down the hall to the empty lab and we situate ourselves around the waiting table. All three of them look at me expectantly, waiting for me to fill them in.

“Thank you for being so willing to speak with me. I know that I’m new here, but this is… important for you to know.” I scrub a hand over my face and steady my breathing before continuing. “My power manifested itself in a completely separate personality. She’s similar to Dr. Banner’s alter ego in that she that she takes over completely. The difference is that she and I practically look exactly the same. There’s no growing, no radical voice change, no different skin color. That’s what makes her so dangerous.”

“Does this other you have a name?” Stark asks.

“Yes,” I nod once. “She’s called Angel.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.” Stark smirks.

“The men I trained with when I was with S.H.I.E.L.D. said the same thing when they first met her. They were the ones who named her actually.” I chuckle darkly. “She has a habit of seducing anyone who she thinks could useful to her. They thought it was a funny, really. Unfortunately, it stuck. So, I’m (Y/N) and she’s Angel.”

“So why are you here if this Angel persona is so dangerous?” Rogers asks.

“Because you’re the best chance I have to completely suppress her. With Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark’s combined genius and, perhaps, a bit of Ms. Maximoff’s mind manipulation, I could be rid of her forever.”

“Based on the information in your file, you were a pretty good agent.” Rogers folds his arms across his broad chest, the muscles in his arms flexing and stretching the material of his t-shirt. I feel the familiar, telltale twinge of pain behind my eyes, cutting through the dull throb of my headache,  and I have to tear my gaze away from him to keep a hold on myself.

“Your point?” I ask, staring pointedly at the tabletop in front of me.

“Why aren’t you looking at me, agent?” He asks gruffly.

“I can’t, sir.” I answer. “I’m not trying to be rude, it’s just… you and all your,” I gesture vaguely in his general direction and huff out a breath, “Well, it excites her.”

“We’ll do what we can to help.” Stark says, his voice unexpectedly gentle.

I have to force myself to keep my head down when I nod and tamp down the swell of warmth I feel towards Mr. Stark at his willingness to help. “Thank you,”

-Three Months-

“Have you made any progress on our little project, (Y/N)?” Tony asks, dropping his tablet on the table without any regard as to how it'll fare on the way down. When I look up I find him with his hands on his hips, looking at me expectantly.

“Not really,” I remove the glasses I've been wearing and hook them onto the front of my shirt, leaning my elbow on the table and resting my chin in my hand. I feel a twinge of regret in my gut and try my hardest to ignore it. “But, if I'm remembering correctly, we aren’t punching a time clock with this one.”

“We aren't.” He looks at the floor and shakes his head. When he looks at me again he takes a few seemingly purposeful steps towards me. “I was wondering… well, are you free tonight?”

“Tony, what are you doing?” I question, immediately closing myself off from him and stomping down the butterflies that had suddenly fluttered to life in my stomach.

“Nothing!” He answers almost too quickly, holding his hands up defensively. “Nothing at all. Just checking in on, y’know, the team's plans for the night… like I normally do.” He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Tony, please don't.” I plead. “It won't end well for anyone. Not without a suppressant and you know we're at least four months away from anything close to it.”

His brows furrow and his disappointment is evident in his expression. “I'm sorry, (Y/N),” He says, his tone almost sad. “I know. I know, that was stupid of me. Won't happen again.”

“No, I'm sorry.” I shake my head, rising from my seat and backing away from him. “I-I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to put you in danger of meeting her.”

“I don't understand why you're so scared of her. She's a part of you, isn't she?”

“He's right you know.” Angel's voice cuts through my stream of consciousness.

“Shut up.” I hiss, my hands unconsciously lifting to tangle in my hair.

“(Y/N), what are you saying?” Tony says, his tone hurt.

“I'm sorry, I'm not talking to you it’s-”

“Let me talk to him, darling. You're obviously useless with gorgeous men like him.”

“No!” I double over, falling to my knees, clutching at my head and squeezing my eyes shut.  “You don't get to hurt him.”

“(Y/N), what’s going on?” Tony asks worriedly, dropping down beside me, hands hovering over my shoulders.

“Ooh, this one's protective of you, hun. Just let me talk to him. I know how you feel about him.” A shock of pain runs down my spine, making me cry out and curl in on myself. “Just give in, come on.”

“No, please no!” I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. “Tony, please get out and lock the doors!”

“No, I’m not leaving you like this!”

“Please, I am begging you. You need to leave. Now.”

“Is this her fault?” He asks, voice quiet.

I nod and groan quietly, curling further into myself. “You-” I break off, sucking in a deep breath to try and reign in control. “You can’t be here right now. Please, just go.”

“Fine,” He rights himself and heads over to the door and pauses. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., alert me the second she’s in the clear.”

“Of course, sir. You will be the first to know.”

The door opens and closes quietly before a loud clicking indicates that all entrances have been locked.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., next time something like this happens, you put him in a suit and you don’t let him out until Wanda has made sure that the episode is over. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be sure to do so in the event that this ever happens again.”

“Good. Now get Wanda.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I lean back against the wall, clutching at my head, tears streaming steadily down my face, sobs wracking my body.

I’ve been so careful. She’d been so quiet up until this point. Why did she have to show up now, of all times?

“Because I love to spite you, darling.”

“Go away,” I grit out.

“Oh, you know that’s not going to happen. You need me, (Y/N). Always have, always will.”

“I don’t need anything from you. You ruin everything for me, no matter what it is.”

“Aw, don’t say that! What about that cute little officer from S.H.I.E.L.D.? What was his name? Roy?”

“His name was Alex.”

“Whatever. We had a lot of fun with him, right? How could you say I ruined that?”

“You killed him! You made him jump off the roof of the Triskelion to prove how much he loved you, you sick twisted bitch.” I throw my head back against the wall, over and over, hoping that it’ll make her stop talking. “He was the first person who wanted to be with me, even knowing about you and you took him away from me. How could you?”

“(Y/N)?” Wanda drops down beside me and places her hands on either side of my head to stop me from hurting myself. “What’s going on? Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y. call me?”

“Stop her. Wanda, please, just make her stop.” I plead, desperately pulling at my hair.

Wanda stares at me, eyes wide, unsure of what to do. “I don’t know what you want me to do, (Y/N). I-I don’t-”

“I can’t take her anymore. Please. Just make it stop.” I sob. “Make everything stop. Please.”

“I-I don’t think I can do what you’re asking of me.” She says, frantically shaking her head. “There has to be something else-”

“No, please,”

“Oh come on, you know you’re nothing without me.”

“GET OUT.” I cry, squeezing my eyes shut, tightly clenching my jaw. Pain sears through my body and I can’t stop the scream that escapes my mouth.

One moment everything is white hot pain and Angel mocking me relentlessly, the next Wanda’s grip on my face loosens and everything goes dark.

--

“Sir, there has been a development.”

“How so?” Tony asks, slowly putting his tablet to the side and standing up from his seat. “What happened?”

“The incident has ended, but Ms. Maximoff has asked that you join her in the infirmary.”

Tony's breathing falters and his stomach drops.

“(Y/N),” He breathes.

Without a second thought, he rushes out the door and down the hallway. He refuses to take the elevator, instead, opting to take the stairs down two at a time. He races down the hallway towards the infirmary and turns the corner sharply, shoes sliding along the tiled floors, fighting for purchase. When he can finally right himself, he bursts through the doors and looks around the room, eyes wild. His gaze lands on Wanda in a chair beside the occupied hospital bed, looking at her hands in her lap which are enveloped in a red glow. It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from her and drag his eyes over to the bed. What he sees there almost makes his heart stop and he can't find it in him to breathe.

(Y/N) lays on the bed, suspended in a shimmering red field of energy. Her eyes are closed and her chest rises and falls rhythmically. All signs point towards sleep, but something about the scene doesn’t sit right with Tony after the incident earlier.

He doesn’t realize he’s even moved until he’s standing at (Y/N)’s bedside, staring down at her.

“I...I didn’t want to do it.” Wanda says, her voice cracking. “I tried to find another way. She was in so much pain...” She shakes her head. “She was begging me, Tony.”

“What happened?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. said that (Y/N) had asked for me in the lab. When I got there the doors were locked and she was curled in on herself, banging her head against the wall and talking to herself. I-it took me a moment to get the door unlocked and I had to stop her from hurting herself further… She was crying and yelling, and begging me to stop someone. She told me to make everything stop.” Wanda takes a deep breath to steady herself and releases it slowly. “I-I think she was asking me to kill her.”

“What?”

“I think she was talking to the other half of herself. From what I heard, (Y/N) was with someone when she was an agent and he had accepted the other side of her, but that other half took control of him and forced him to commit suicide.”

Tony’s eyes go wide and his legs wobble momentarily before he can steady himself on the edge of the bed. He shakes his head and turns away from the women in front of him, realizing what was happening earlier in the lab.

“That was why she didn't want me there.” He squeezes his eyes shut and a couple of tears roll down his cheeks before he roughly wipes them away with the heel of his hand. “Fuck.”

“I'm sorry.”

Tony shakes his head and turns his body to face Wanda. “Don't be. You kept her alive.” He frowns and sits down on the edge of the mattress, gently cradling one of (Y/N)’s hands in his. It looks so small and pale in comparison and the sight makes his heart clench painfully. “What did you do?”

“I don't know for sure. I was only thinking about keeping her alive and this happened. She may be in a coma, but I can't be sure till Banner and Helen show up.” Her brow furrows. “She has a wound on the back of her head where she hit it against the wall and she may have a concussion. I'm scared that if I release her, we'll lose her.”

“Alright.” Tony nods. “We’ll figure something out. We’re not going to lose her.”

The doors open and Bruce and Helen quickly cross the room.

“What happened?” Bruce asks.

Tony shakes his head. “We don’t know for sure. Wanda put her under and now she’s here.”

Helen Cho begins looking over (Y/N)’s unconscious body. She takes her pulse, moves her joints and shines a penlight in her eyes to check responsiveness. When She’s through, she rights her posture and crosses her arms, staring down at (Y/N) with a furrowed brow.

“What is it?” Bruce asks.

Cho shakes her head. “I’m not sure of what to make of this.”

Tony looks at her worriedly. “What do you mean?”

“She’s in there, but after Ms. Maximoff put her under, it’s like her body just shut down.”

“She’s treating Angel like an infection.” Bruce muses.

“Angel?”

“She’s like the hulk, but on a completely different level.”

“How so?”

“She’s another side of (Y/N), but you wouldn’t know she was different if you weren’t aware of what she’s like normally. From what we’ve gathered Angel manipulates people and it’s resulted in at least one death so far.” Tony shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I should have stayed.”

“No. She told you to leave and you did the right thing in listening to her.” Wanda says firmly, intense eyes trained on him. “It would have ended worse had you stayed.”

Tony’s brow furrows as he examines her facial expression. His features soften and he closes his eye, nodding in agreement. “You’re right.” He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “We have to get rid of Angel.”

“What?” The word is out of Bruce’s mouth before he can do anything about it. “I thought we were only working on a suppressant.”

“Well I’m skipping ahead. We’re going to kill angel and give (Y/N) full control of herself.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little, well...”

“No, there’s no other option.” Tony leans forward, cradling (Y/N)’s face in his hands. She looks pale and her skin is cold. Tony can’t help the wave of helplessness that washes through him and he closes his eyes, trying to ignore it. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead before pushing himself off the bed and heading for the door. He pauses for a moment in the doorway and throws a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the lab if you need anything.” Bruce nods once and Tony walks out of the lab.

“(Y/N) will be fine if you release her, Ms. Maximoff,” Helen says, her tone gentle.

Wanda nods and the shimmering red surrounding (Y/N)’s body slowly dissolves. As soon as the field of red disappears Wanda’s shoulders slump and she allows herself to relax into the chair she's sitting in.

“He really cares about her,” Bruce says softly.

“It's more than that, Doctor Banner,” Wanda whispers. “I saw what was happening inside of his head. He cares about all of us. This though... this is something stronger.”

--

“Have you come up with anything yet?” Bruce asks, leaning on one of the tables that borders the lab.

“Nothing that doesn't involve a lobotomy.” Tony scowls at the numbers on the screen, moving so fast they appear to be twitching. He can only take it for a moment longer before he clears the screen and starts from scratch.

“Are you sure a lobotomy would even help?”

“Nope.” Tony pushes away from the monitor and spins his chair around to face Bruce. “If I can't pinpoint where Angel lives in her head then I can't even begin to dream up some batshit way to get her out.”

“Maybe you should take a break.”

“No, I need to keep working.” Tony shakes his head, turning back to the monitor and reopens the program.

“Tony, it's been three days-”

Tony stands abruptly, sending the rolling chair skittering across the floor. “She wouldn't be down there if it weren't for me, okay?”

“What?”

“I tried to ask her out. She told me it was dangerous and I questioned her. I pushed her and Angel tried to take over. It's my fault she's down there right now in a fucking coma.” He cards his hands through his hair, his expression slightly manic. “I should have known better. She warned me and I didn't fucking listen.”

“Well, it isn't exactly your strong suit.”

Tony snorts disdainfully and shakes his head. “I don't know what I was thinking,” he mutters. “This is all my fault.”

“It's not your fault.” Tony and Bruce look over to find Wanda standing stiffly in the doorway.

“How do you know?” Tony asks.

“She doesn't have control over Angel. She's always there, under the surface, looking for an opportunity to show up. She's like a fever, but she is triggered by extreme stress and anxiety. She broke through because (Y/N) was trying so hard to concentrate on work and on containing her other half around you that she wasn't able to fully focus on either of her goals.” Tony opens his mouth to say something and Wanda holds up her and to silence him. “Angel found a gap and attacked. She uses psychological warfare and manipulation to get what she wants even if that means destroying the body she lives in.”

“You say that as if Angel is a parasite.”

“Well, she is in a sense, isn't she?” Wanda raises her eyebrows. “(Y/N)’s body practically shut down in an attempt to destroy something that has now been identified as a threat.”

“It sounds like you’ve given this some thought.”

She nods once. “I’ve been visiting her, checking in on her mental activity to see if there has been any change. When I actually looked into her head, I could see that she was waging a war against Angel, trying to take control of her body again.”

“You say that like you have a plan for how to get rid of Angel.”

“I don’t exactly have a plan, but I hope it’s something.”

“Explain, then.”

Wanda sighs softly. “I don’t know if it’ll work, but if we trigger Angel when (Y/N) is awake, I may be able to pinpoint where Angel is in her brain and either destroy or isolate her to the point that she will never be able to cause trouble again.”

“The only way we do this is if (Y/N) agrees to it,” Tony says after a long stretch of silence. “If she says no, we look for another way, no questions asked.”

“Of course.” Wanda nods once.

Tony nods to himself, searching for his chair and sagging into it once he's pulled it back to his work station. He scrubs a hand over his tired, stubley face and sighs loudly. He spins his chair around so that he's facing his monitor again and begins working on another algorithm.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asks.

“Someone has to come up with a plan B. Might as well get on it while we wait for her to wake up.”

Bruce nods and pulls up his own chair next to Tony to see where he can help.

--

The first thing I notice when I wake up is how slow everything seems to be moving. Second, the pounding headache and dull throb located at the back of my head. Third, the small crowd of people gathered at the foot of my bed.

I close my eyes against the harsh lighting and hushed whispers that fill the room, trying to block everything out for a moment longer.

“She’s awake,” Wanda murmurs.

I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and I flinch away without thinking. Cautiously, I open my eye only to find Tony looking at me sadly.

“Hey,” I breathe.

A sad smile forms his lips. “Hey,” I can see his lips quiver and tears forming in his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “How long was I out?”

“Almost a week,” Bruce answers. “You gave us quite a scare, (Y/N).”

“A week,” I whisper. “How could I have been out for an entire week.”

“It’s wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). You weren’t in control.” Wanda says, trying to reassure me.

I shake my head. “What happened?”

Wanda glances at Tony and Bruce, her expression unsure, before continuing. “When you called me into the lab, you weren’t quite yourself. Angel was trying to take over and you begged me to do something to make it stop. I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to put you to sleep, but accidentally put you into a coma.”

A flash of pain lances through my head and I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. “She wanted Tony,” I grit out. Another pang of pain washes through me and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from groaning. “She still wants him.”

I feel the bed dip slightly as Tony sits beside me. “We have a plan to get rid of Angel. But we won’t do it if you don’t agree to.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask, pressing against my eyes with my hands, trying to block Tony out as best as possible. I don’t want him to leave. Having him close to me is comforting. Overwhelming, but comforting.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it much-”

“Bruce, just tell me what the fucking plan is already,” I snap. I feel Tony pull away from me and my shoulders sag. “I can’t keep living like this.”

“If you die-”

“I’m fine with that,” I say softly. “I can’t keep this up. I don’t want to terrorize the people I care about until someone gets hurt and puts a bullet in my head.”

“(Y/N)...”

“Even worse, if I do it myself.” Uncovering my eyes, I look directly at Wanda. “What’s the plan.”

--

“Are you sure you need to be strapped down?” Bruce asks while he watches Tony tighten down the last strap across (Y/N)’s legs.

“If there’s a way to get out, she’ll find it, and I’d rather you stay safe through all of this.”

Tony bites the inside of his cheek before turning back to the task at hand, securing the last couple of straps across her upper body.

“That should do it,” He says with one last tug. He leans over (Y/N)’s body, concern evident in his expression. “You really want to go through with this? We can find another way.”

“I just want to get this over with, Tony.” She studies his features momentarily before gathering the courage to reach out to Tony and grab a fistful of the hem of his shirt. She balls it up as much as possible, pulling him down to her level before letting go.

“What’s this?” Tony asks, trying to sound nonchalant and failing.

“Just kiss me you asshole,” She whispers, her eyes flitting over his face.

“Is this you talking, or Angel?”

“You’re close enough that it’ll be Angel in about ten seconds if you don’t hurry up and do it already.”

Her words shock Tony into action and he leans over her, hands on either side of her head, and presses his lips softly to hers. (Y/N) tentatively kisses him back, allowing herself to live in the moment while she can. She pulls back abruptly at the familiar twinge of pain behind her eyes. Tony straightens and takes several steps back, falling in line with Bruce and Wanda. He watches as (Y/N) squeezes her eyes shut and scrunches up her nose, like she does when she’s trying to focus in the lab, fighting the change.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Tony calls out. (Y/N) tilts her head to the side to show that she’s listening. “I love you.”

A pained smirk forms on her face. “I know,”

Tony lets out a strained laugh. “Since when am I Leia in this relationship?”

“Oh, honey,” A voice comes out of (Y/N)’s mouth that isn’t entirely hers. Her eyes snap open to reveal a dark gray clouding once clear, (Y/E/C) irises. “You’ve always been Leia in this relationship.”

“Angel, I presume,” Tony says, trying to keep his voice even and failing.

“Don’t look so surprised, lover boy, it’s better this way! I’m more fun than she is anyway, you know.”

Tony snorts loudly. “I highly doubt that you and I have anything in common,” He folds his arms over his chest defensively, trying to close himself off from the oddly alluring voice that belongs to Angel and definitely not (Y/N). This isn’t her. This isn’t the woman he’s trying to save. “It’s not like you’re going to be around much longer.”

Angel barks out something akin to laughter. “Oh yeah, that’s a laugh. I heard all about your little plan. You think you’re going to be able to get rid of me with a little voodoo magic? Maybe light a little incense to get the mood right?” She cackles loudly. “There’s only one way you’re ever going to be able to do to separate me from (Y/N),” She looks directly at Tony, a wide smirk firmly set in place. “And we all know you don’t have the heart to kill her.”

Tony stiffens, his jaw clenching. “Do it, Wanda.”

“Hah!” Angel barks out. “What’re you gonna do, little witch? Gonna wiggle your fingers at me? Hold up a cross? The power of Christ comp-ech!”

Angel stops talking as soon as a wave of red energy washes over her and (Y/N)’s body seizes up. Her arms lift from the bed, struggling against the restraints as if trying to physically fight against what’s happening inside her head. She claws at the bed sheets, eyes wide and wild. Wanda struggles to keep a hold of her powers and reign them in, to force them into doing what she wants them to do. She finds what she’s looking for and a faint gurgling noise escapes (Y/N)’s throat.

“Wanda,” Tony’s tone holds a warning. “What's going on in there.”

“I think I’ve almost got her,” Wanda grits out. “Just-”

She’s cut off by an earth-shattering scream ripping its way out of (Y/N)’s mouth, her head thrown back into the pillow, eyes still wide open. It stops as soon as it started and the red veil that had enveloped (Y/N)’s body melts away, and she falls against the mattress, unmoving, eyes closed. Wanda’s knees buckle and Bruce catches her under her arms before she can fall to the floor.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asks.

Wanda nods wearily. “(Y/N). Check on (Y/N).”

Seeming to come to his senses, Tony jumps into action, rushing over to (Y/N)’s bedside. He frames her face with his hands and strokes over her cheekbones with his thumbs.

“Wake up,” He pleads. “Come on, (Y/N), wake up. Please.”

--

Reality comes crashing back in as my eyes snap open and I'm left panting and exhausted. I can't sit up and I struggle for a moment before remembering Tony strapping me to the bed at my request.

Tony.

I look around, frantically searching for him before realizing he's there with my head cradled in his hands.

“Is it over ?” I ask, my voice coming out in a croak.

“Did it work?” Wanda’s voice is drowsy.

“Wanda?” Tony leans over me, looking directly into my eyes, brow furrowed. “What?”

“It's your eyes,” he says softly.

“My eyes?”

He chokes out a watery laugh, tears spilling over and running down his cheeks as he nods. “Yeah, your eyes. They're yours again.”

“It worked,” I murmur. “It actually worked?”

I can feel a gentle pressure in my head before Wanda speaks. “It worked. I can't find her in there anywhere.”

My breath hitches and I can feel my heart stutter in my chest. Pushing against the restraints holding me to the bed, I turn to Tony, probably looking as desperate as I feel. “Get these off of me.”

Tony snaps into action, releasing the buckles of the straps as fast as he can. As soon as my arms are free, I sit up and grab Tony’s hand. His fingers tighten around mine as he works to release the straps around my legs. When he's done, he sits on the bed beside me, carefully scoops me up and places me in his lap. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and press my face into the crook of his neck and immediately burst into tears. Tony holds me tightly to his chest, gently rocking us from side to side, making quiet, soothing noises.

“Hey, it's okay,” He whispers. “You're fine, you're here. It's okay.” He presses a soft kiss to my neck and rubs gentle circles into my back.

I take a deep, shuddering breath and nod, tightening my arms around his shoulders. “I know,”

“Hmm?” Tony hums. I can barely hear someone whisper something, but I can't tell who's talking. I feel him nod and it's shortly followed by the sound of the doors clicking shut.

Taking a deep breath, I disentangle myself from Tony and carefully weave my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, gently pulling his face down to mine and pressing my forehead to his. When I breathe out, it’s shaky but steadier than it was before. Tony holds me tighter still to his chest, looking at me so intensely that I close my eyes instinctively, in spite of the fact that I know that Angel is gone.

“You’ve got to stop looking at me like that,” I murmur.

“Like what?”

I shake my head. “Like I’m an angel or something. Like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“And what if you are?” Tony pulls away and I open my eyes to find him looking at me curiously, head tilted to the side. “There’s no Angel anymore. She's dead. Nothing bad will happen, no one’s going to get hurt, unless I fuck up again, and you leave. Then I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, and I’d grovel on my knees at your doorstep, day and night, begging you to give me a second chance.”

I laugh quietly and wipe my eyes. “I love you,”

“Yeah?” He grins at me.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “This is the part where you say “I love you too, (Y/N)” not yeah.”

“This coming from the woman who said “I know” when I told her that I loved her.”

“Fine, that’s fair,” I laugh, carefully moving my fingers through the soft hair at the base of his skull. I watch as his shoulders relax and the lines between his brows fade. A soft smile stretches across his face more easily than I’ve ever seen from him and I can’t help the smile that appears on mine.

“I do love you, you know,” he says softly. “If that hadn’t worked, I don’t know what I’d done.”

I shake my head. “I don’t even want to think about the what if’s anymore. I’m done with them. The only place for variables is in the lab. All that matters right now is what’s right in front of me, and for the first time in my life, I can take hold of that and run with it.”

“I couldn’t agree more, (Y/N),” He tips his head up and softly presses his lips to mine. “I couldn’t agree more.”

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