#your new year will be lucky because you left everything old and bad and unnecessary in the old year

[deltastorm101]

infamous end-of-year-cleanup has begun babes

[c-e-d-dreamer]

For AU Day for @nessianweek I thought I’d test out this College AU that’s been bouncing around my brain because I’m College AU trash that I’m considering writing a proper/chaptered fic for. Hope you enjoy! :) 

Most days, University of Prythian feels like every other public college. All brooding brick buildings and precisely placed green spaces and students loudly milling about in droves. A group of frat boys throwing around a frisbee on the common. A group of girls in bikinis tops taking advantage of the late August sun. Shouts of “oh my god, hey” and “how was your summer” just barely drowning out crying parents dropping their kids off. It’s migraine inducing. 

Nesta throws the car into park, the old Chevy only groaning slightly as it settles after the trek up to campus. She hears the doors open and close, but she just grips the wheel and closes her eyes, taking in three steadying breaths and hoping the oxygen can find a way to calm her spiking blood. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It’s a new year. After everything that happened last year, technically up should be the only direction. She hopes. Once Nesta feels like she has a hold of her frayed nerves, she slides out of the driver’s seat to find Feyre already excitedly pulling her bags from the trunk, settling them on the pavement next to the car. Elain comes up beside their youngest sister, pulling her own suitcases out. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drop you off closer to your dorm, Elain?” 

“I’m in Oakwood this year. It’s not that far a walk.” 

Nesta nods, grabbing the last of Feyre’s bags and closing the trunk. Before Elain can wheel off with her bags, Feyre’s wrapping an arm around each of her sisters’ shoulders, a wide smile plastered across her face under her U of P baseball cap. 

“The Archeron sisters are back together again!” 

“Well, until Nesta graduates,” Elain reminds Feyre. 

“Maybe she’ll do a fifth year, just for us.” 

Nesta just raises an eyebrow at her sisters’ antics. A fifth year? Impossible. Not only because she takes her studies very seriously, keeping her GPA well above the average, but because the idea of spending an extra, unnecessary year in this place sounds like her own personal circle of hell. The sooner she can finish her degree and get on with the rest of her life, the better. 

“Alright,” Feyre concedes. “Bad suggestion.” 

With a wave and a promise to meet up for dinner later, Elain is off towards Oakwood Hall. Nesta hoists one of Feyre’s duffle bags onto her shoulder, following her youngest sister toward her own dorm hall. As she steps up onto the sidewalk, though, her shoulder collides with a firm body, Feyre’s bag almost falling out of her grip. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” Nesta seethes. 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” a voice calls in return, already swallowed up by the groups of students moving in and out of the dorm hall. 

Nesta rolls her eyes at the saccharine nickname, resettling the duffle on her shoulder and catching up to Feyre. Her sister’s dorm reminds Nesta of her own freshmen dorm from back in the day, simple and small, all white walls and plain wood furniture. Despite the things already in the room, Feyre’s roommate is nowhere to be seen. 

“Do you need help with anything else?” Nesta asks, dropping the bag she had been holding onto Feyre’s bed. 

“I should be good. Orientation starts in a few hours.” 

A moment passes as the two sisters stare at one another. They aren’t exactly the most affectionate of families, hugging and that sort of thing. So with a small nod and smile, Nesta is on her way, back out of the dorm hall and to her car. 

Luckily, the off campus apartment she’s staying in this year isn’t that long a drive, and when she walks through the door, Emerie is already inside, leaning against their kitchen counter, a fork poised between her fingers and what looks like a slice of chocolate cake perched on a plate. 

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Emerie drawls, but the smile tugging at the corner of her lips gives away the teasing nature. 

“Hope you brought enough to share,” Nesta replies, eying up Emerie’s plate. 

“Do I look like I’m made of money? Go to the dining hall and get your own.” 

“When’s Gwyn meant to get in?” 

“Not until later this week. I’m surprised you’re on campus this early.” 

“Feyre has orientation this week. Plus I need to hit up the bookstore. I have Williams this semester.” 

“That man seriously needs to get that stick out of his ass when it comes to having the “right edition” for his class.” 

“Tell me about it,” Nesta sighs, sneaking her hand into the utensils drawer and then snagging a bite of Emerie’s cake before the female has a chance to react. 

“Hey!” Emerie calls after Nesta as she retreats to her room. “You’re lucky I like you, Nesta Archeron!” 

~ * * * ~

The campus bookstore is mostly filled with parents and baby-faced freshmen trying to decide which University of Prythian gear to spend all their money on, but once Nesta pushes back to where the shelves of textbooks live, the throngs of bodies thin out. She can’t help but run her finger along the spines of the books, all lined perfectly along the shelves. Each spine is a different color, a different texture, bold or curvy font declaring its title to the world, and while many are textbooks, that feel under her fingers is still a comfort. Like a heartbeat lives between the soft linen pages and beats in time with her own. 

A turn around the corner and Nesta finds the section of books she needs. She scans the different titles, and when her eyes finally land on the one she needs, she can’t help the long sigh that looses from her lungs. Of course, it’s on the very top shelf. Nesta reaches her arm up, stretching up onto her tip-toes until the pads of her fingers just brush the spine of the book, trying to inch the book closer to the edge where she could get it down. 

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

Nesta falls back on her heels in surprise, the voice and nickname snagging on her memory. She whips her head around to find a guy leaning against the shelf, arms crossed casually across his chest and a smug smile plastered across his face. He’s tall with broad shoulders, dark curls pulled into a bun at the back of his head. Nesta’s eyes can’t help but snag on the lines of ink dancing across the skin of his arms and peeking out of the open cuts of his bro-tank. When her eyes dance back to his face, his hazel eyes are alight like he had clocked and was delighted in what she had been doing. It makes her brain crash back into action, a scowl settling easily across her features. 

“You were the one who bumped into me earlier. Outside of Somerset Hall.” 

“That was you?” the guy asks, not even being subtle as he checks Nesta out. “My apologies. Let me make it up to you by taking you out to dinner.” 

Nesta doesn’t even deen that with a response. With a scoff, she turns back toward the front of the bookstore. She can come back later for the book she needs, ideally when this insufferable man with his cocky grins and overconfidence is nowhere to be seen. As she weaves her way through the shelves and toward the exit, she pointedly ignores the heavy set of footsteps she can hear trailing behind her. 

“At least tell me your name.” 

“No.” 

“No? Well that’s definitely an interesting name. My name’s Cassian by the way.” 

“I don’t recall asking.” 

“You didn’t have to. Your eyes were asking for you.” 

That has Nesta halting in her steps. She whirls around and clearly her sudden stop has this Cassian thrown off, his own steps stumbling. Good. She likes having the upperhand. 

“Does that line actually work for you?” 

“Actually, I usually have to use less words. My ruggedly handsome looks do all the talking.” 

“Rugged? Sure. But handsome?” Nesta pointedly rakes her eyes down his figure, and when they meet back with hazel, Cassian’s cock-sure grin slips the barest hint at the corner. “I don’t think so. You looked like you crawled out of a dumpster.” 

Nesta expects his smile to fall fully at the jab, and she hopes it’s enough for him to leave her alone, but instead that smile is still stubbornly there. Even worse, it twists and shifts into a smirk, like this is all some kind of fun game. It makes Nesta’s heart give an extra kick in her chest, and before she can even think about dwelling on what that means, she turns on her heel. 

“Goodbye, Cassian.” 

“Goodbye, sweetheart.” 

~ * * * ~

On Thursday, Nesta finds herself at the dining hall. It’s a little late for breakfast and too early for lunch, so luckily the place is blessedly not too crowded, just a few pockets of students talking and laughing at various tables. She’s standing in front of the pastry display when her phone starts buzzing incessantly, and she slides it out of her pocket to find Feyre going off in their sister group chat. 

I just met the most attractive man I have ever seen

I’m not fucking around. HIS FACE 

And he called me darling

He asked me to drinks tomorrow night!

“I personally prefer the blueberry muffins.” 

Nesta snaps her attention to her left to find Cassian standing there, that same wide and cocky grin from the bookstore settled across his face. His hair is down today, soft curls framing his face and brushing against his cotton tee covered shoulders. 

“You again,” Nesta sighs. 

“Isn’t it funny how we keep meeting?” 

“Funny isn’t the word I would use.”

“It’s almost like the Universe keeps pushing us together.”

“Or you’re stalking me.” 

“Maybe you’re stalking me,” Cassian says, tossing a wink Nesta’s way. 

“And why would I do that?” 

“I thought we already established the fact I’m ruggedly handsome?” 

“Pretty sure the only thing we’ve established is that you’re full of yourself.” 

Nesta turns and snags one of the wrapped chocolate chip muffins out of the display case, fully prepared to end this conversation and enjoy her snack in peace. 

“You forgot something the other day, you know.” 

Nesta looks back toward Cassian where he has an outstretched hand between them. There, clutched between his fingers, is the book she went to the campus bookstore to pick up. She blinks a few times at the wide script proclaiming Art Through the Ages, the cogs in her brain tripping over one another and trying to comprehend the sight before her. Her hand begins to reach out to take the book before she snaps it back to her side, her eyes locking back on Cassian’s face. 

“You got the book I needed?” 

“The perfect excuse to find and talk to you again.” 

“Well, I can’t accept it.” 

“Then you can Venmo me,” Cassian says, leaning into Nesta’s space and pressing the book into her hands. “And your Venmo will have your name, won’t it? So it’s a win-win.” 

This close up, Nesta can see all the green vines and gold flecks that make up his hazel eyes. The way his nose sits just off kilter like it’s been broken and set not quite right and the stubble pushing through along his jawline. She can feel the warmth that seems to radiate off his person in rolling waves. It’s a bit overwhelming. 

“It’s Nesta,” she offers, taking a step back. 

“Nesta,” Cassian says, like he’s testing the weight of her name on his tongue. “Well, Nesta, how about that dinner? The offer still stands. Or we could skip straight to dessert.” 

Nesta lets out a snort at the comment. She’s sure the sound isn’t particularly attractive, but she can’t help it. The audacity of this man. 

“Only in your dreams,” Nesta quips, turning on her heel and heading toward the register to pay for her muffin. 

“Is that a promise?”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him as she swipes her meal card and makes for the dining hall exit. She can feel Cassian’s eyes tracking her the whole way. 

Later, when Nesta gets back to her room and is thumbing through Art Through the Ages, she finds a note folded up between the pages. She opens up the paper to find an unfamiliar scrawl, simple black lines spelling out ‘Cassian’ and ten digits. She hesitates for only a moment before crumbling it up and tossing it in the trash. 

~ * * * ~

Classes start up on Monday, and Nesta is ready to throw herself back into her books, notes, and work. She has a jammed packed schedule this semester, knocking out the rest of her general education credit requirements needed to graduate on time. The perfect distraction to keep her mind busy. At least, she was able to squeeze in enough classes that actually interest her, including a course on Early Women Writers. 

On Tuesday, she walks into the science building and her chemistry class. She finds a lab table a few spots back from the front, settling onto one of the stools. She pulls her textbook and laptop from her bag and is just typing in her laptop password when she feels a presence behind her. 

“I guess I should thank you for coming through on your promise. The best dreams I’ve ever had.” 

Nesta can’t stop the pained sigh that pulls its way out her lungs. She rubs a hand down her face before turning to the right, just in time to find Cassian sliding into the stool beside her. He has another cotton tee on, his hair once again pulled up into a bun style. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking this class.” 

Cassian reaches into his backpack and pulls out his own chemistry textbook, holding it up as some sort of proof. 

“The Universe strikes again.” 

“So you keep saying, but clearly the Universe has bad taste.” 

Cassian throws his head back and laughs at the comment, surprising Nesta with his reaction and earning them a few curious looks from the rest of the class. The sound is deep and warm, seeming to radiate from deep within his chest. His shoulders shake like his large frame isn’t enough to contain the sound, and Nesta finds herself staring at the crinkles that appear beside his eyes. 

“Alright, class. Welcome to chemistry.” 

A hush falls over the whole room as the professor strides in the door and to the front of the room. She hands a small stack of syllabus sheets to each person sitting at the front to be passed back and a blank seating chart to fill in is passed between the tables. The professor goes through the syllabus for much of the allotted class time, and Nesta makes notes in the margins of hers about the grading system and circles the important deadlines she’ll need to remember. 

“I hope you’re comfortable with where you’re sitting and who you’re sitting with,” the professor addresses the class an hour later. “They’ll be your lab partner for the rest of the semester.” 

Nesta wants to groan as she buries her face in her hands. How did this become her life? As if simply seeing Cassian’s insufferable face three times a week for this class isn’t enough, now they actually have to interact and work with one another. If Cassian’s theory about this being the Universe's doing is correct, Nesta is pretty sure the Universe is just laughing in her face now. 

“Well, would you look at that, Nes,” Cassian drawls from beside her. “Another point for the Universe.” 

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep,” Nesta mutters from between her fingers. 

“As long as we get to cuddle a little beforehand.” 

“Cute,” Nesta says, putting as much dry sarcasm as she can behind the single word. 

“You know, lab partner,” Cassian offers while he stands up and slings his backpack across his shoulders. “I think it’s going to be a great semester.”

[pretty-setter-bois]

your outro

ONE YEAR LATER

     “(Y/N)! GLAD YOU could make it!” atsumu notices you entering the restaurant, waving you over.

“hi, everyone.” you smile.

your friends from highschool are already here, after a month of planning to suit your busy schedules. courtesy of atsumu, of course.

“hey.” aran grins.

“hey.” osamu raises an arm.

“hello.” kita smiles.

conveniently, the only open seat is next to him. he shares his menu with you, although you end up ordering the same thing.

the five of you catch up, atsumu casually throwing in unnecessary yet amusing comments with osamu there to regulate him. of course, aran is there to keep the conversation going, too.

somewhere along the way, volleyball gets brought up into the conversation, leading into a one-sided debate between aran and atsumu. osamu pays attention for the fun of it.

“you okay?” kita casually whispers in your ear.

“why wouldn’t i be?” you tilt your head to the side. “we’re all together, we’re having fun.”

he stares at you for a bit, looking sympathetic. “you know it’s not all of us.”

you don’t reply. he’s right.

as much as the topic is better to avoid, it’s almost impossible to miss the fact that one of their old teammates is absent.

you try not to mull over it. after all, you did come here to have fun.

“it’s fine.”

“drinks for all of us!” atsumu declares, cutting your conversation short.

you chuckle, looking at kita once more. “let’s have some fun?”

he nods, directing his words to atsumu, “we need at least two of us to be sober.”

“me.” osamu casually offers.

“i’ll be the second. the rest of you, go all out.” he laughs.

kita’s laugh is nice. so are several aspects to him. in fact, it’s almost impossible for you to find flaws in kita.

as much as you do care for him (one will even go as far as saying you love him), you know you can’t get back in another relationship for at least a while.

kita knows that, too, and he’s very respective of your decision. that doesn’t mean the two of you don’t think it over every once in a while, though.

“(Y/N)! drink something!” atsumu says.

“unlike you, not all of us are free from work tomorrow.” you tease. “i have an important meeting.”

“you’re no fun.” he pouts, though you know he’s joking. “we’re here to celebrate!”

“and what are we celebrating, exactly?” you cock an eyebrow.

he pauses for a bit. “it’s been one year since our team participated in the olympics!”

“10 months.” osamu corrects.

“so what, i just forgot a few months!”

“you’ve been obsessing over the olympics for months prior to the event itself. you wouldn’t forget an important detail like that.”

“do i really need an excuse to hang out with my friends?”

“no, but if you’re going to come up with an excuse, don’t lie about it.”

osamu seems to have said something he shouldn’t have, because you can feel the slight vibration of the table as something hit it. atsumu instantly reaches for his foot, mumbling something incoherent.

although you never really understand what they fight about, the twins never cease to bring a smile to your face with their banter.

“it’s been a year since… (Y/N) became an independent woman!”

osamu sighs.

“too soon?”

another kick is sent under the table, this time hitting atsumu. he goes for his other foot, softly massaging it through the shoe as he insults his brother.

“if you keep that up, i won’t be able to use my feet.”

“you hit yourself the first time.”

“shut up!”

you chuckle a bit, and atsumu is relieved that the topic isn’t sensitive for you to speak about.

“to independant women.” you raise a glass.

“do independant women!” atsumu raises his, despite it being almost empty.

“to independant women.” osamu raises his glass of water, intentionally clanking into atsumu’s.

“hey!”

“to independant women.” aran grins, raising his drink.

“to independant women.” kita smiles, raising his glass of water.

the five of you simultaneously drink out of your glasses, despite the difference of liquid within them.

the men find themselves arguing over how to split the bill, and you find that as an opening to sneak outside.

as much as you do enjoy spending your time with them, there are times that you need for yourself.

you never think that you’ll find yourself staring at the same sky again, and you could have sworn that you promised yourself to leave behind this city.

it was hard, and you caved after a little over a year.

it’s also hard to believe that it has been that long. a whole three-hundred-sixty-five days, and you still haven’t gotten over everything.

“hey.”

speak of the devil.

“who thought i’d find you here?” the voice speaks again.

you turn to face the familiar tone, not surprised to find the one you left behind. he doesn’t look much too different.

“hi.” you say, not really wanting to indulge in conversation.

“so, what are you doing out here?”

“i could ask you the same.”

“just on a walk.”

a pause takes place. the both of you know that the conversation is awkward from the start. there are far too many unspoken words, far too much meaning behind them.

“you look great.” he says again.

“thanks.”

“you changed up your hair.”

“yeah.”

“i always liked it better when it was long.”

“i think it looks better this way.”

another silence. this one is a bit shorter than the last, but it’s long enough for you to decide that you want closure.

“how did things go with the olympics?”

“ended a few weeks after.”

a few words are missing from the context, but the two of you have managed to understand each other with no misconceptions.

he knows you’re speaking about her, and you know what he means when he says after.

“i’m sorry.” he mutters.

you’re holding yourself back from shouting at him, yelling that he can’t apologize after all this time from being away and what he’s done.

“was it a coincidence that we met here?” you say instead.

“no.” he sighs. “they told me they were busy tonight, and i made a lucky guess that you’d all be here.”

“you wanted to speak with me?”

“yeah. you needed some closure after all this time.”

“so will you answer my questions truthfully?”

“to the best of my abilities.”

“for how long?”

he sucks in a breath, “a few months.”

“for how long?” you repeat.

“three months.”

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. as much as you hate admitting it, crying was inevitable when you think of what happened.

“when did you meet?”

“that day i brought you to the jelly-stick stand, when i had to leave early.”

“what’s her name?”

“that’s kind of irrelevant now.”

you chuckle a little. then it turns into a full blown laugh, and you’re bent over your knees trying to catch your breath.

“i really, really wanted to believe that you had changed.” you say. “it’s not realistic for people to change, but part of me wanted you to. part of me hoped for you to.”

“i…”

“the same part of me that can’t get you out of my head.”

he faces you with his eyes widened, but you pay him no mind as you continue to stare up at the moon.

“i’m… i know what i did was wrong, but-”

“there isn’t a ‘but’, and you and i know that well.” you sigh. “as much as i still think about you, i can’t put myself through something like that again. even before that incident with her — and i don’t know her name because you’re not telling me — i was beginning to feel out of place.”

“i-”

“don’t say you’re sorry. you and i both know that won’t do anything.” you say. “but if you were right about something, it had to be that i’d become a shell of myself.”

he knows that what you’re saying has been on your mind for a while. “i understand what you mean-”

“you don’t understand, suna. i’ve never felt more free in my life than i do now.”

“oh.” he breathes out — he notes the use of his last name. “i didn’t realize i’d put that much pressure on you.”

“you’re smart.” you say. “you just didn’t want to realize.”

you are right, and he’s surprised to have seen you caught on. it’s hard to forget someone, someone you used to feel every emotion that you can possible feel towards. ten years of your life that the old you will claim to be the happiest, but the new you knows better.

“oh, yeah.” you shuffle for something inside your pocket. “i’ve been meaning to give you this, incase we met up randomly at a time like this.”

he’s handed the ring he gave you over a year ago, in almost pristine condition. you don’t wear it often, but that is a given considering the meaning behind it. it rests in his palm, and he makes no effort to put it away.

“(Y/N), you alright?” you faintly hear kita shout from the dark.

“yeah, i’m fine!” you shout back.

he’s too far away to see you, but the sound of your voice is enough reassurance for him to stay put.

“we’re finished with the bill, do you want us to come?”

“no, it’s fine. stay in the car, i’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“alright.”

“so, kita?” suna questions. “anything going on between you?”

“i don’t think it’s your place to ask.” you say words similar to his own when speaking of her.

“you’re right, my bad.”

“well, i should get going. it was nice to get some closure, i guess.”

“do you ever think about what could’ve been?”

you sigh, “we’re not having this conversation. you and i both know it’s futile.”

“you’re right.” he murmurs. “this must’ve been how you felt before.”

“what do you mean?”

when he doesn’t answer, you look up at his face. suna rintaro isn’t a very emotional person, so it’s a surprise to see small, subtle tears falling down his face — almost invisible in the moonlight.

“i really put you through a lot, huh? and i made you cry again tonight.” he sighs.

“i have to get going.”

“so this is goodbye?”

“yeah, i guess so.”

“will i see you around?”

“we both know the answer to that.”

you turn around, beginning to walk to the parking lot with heavy steps. before you can get very far, he calls out to you once more.

“katsumi sato.”

“huh?” you face him.

“that’s her name.”

a small pause settles into the air, with an accompanying breeze.

“like you said before,” you say. “it’s irrelevant now.”

you turn on your heels for the final time, your footsteps much faster than before. you don’t want any distractions or last-minute stops.

suna watches you go, wiping the small tears of his own. the droplets of water were but a fraction of what you had to endure for a long time, all because of him.

he should’ve known that the wholesome, friendly interactions the two of you had in highschool could never develop into anything more.

even if you’d gotten to know him more than anyone else, he should’ve never accepted your confession without thinking it through. he should’ve never kept moving on with the next step of your relationship just for the thrill of it.

after all, the relationship was doomed from beginning.

it was good until it wasn’t.

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TAGLIST ☆☎☂♔

@stfucanunot @sunaswife @sredamancy @kiyobbie @kairebear-4evr @youngestdelacour @kara-grayson04 @anngelllla @tycrackculture @kingkagss @heyatsumu @kathya420 @gladly-olus@hxneybee-uwu @1lluminat3 @heyitzwolf @pharvhs @asdfghjkl7things @tinygremliin @pelicanpizza​ @xfangirl-trashx​ @nintendoutoori​ @toaster-stick​ @nit-sir-hc @daphnxy  @kageyamasgirl @kiyoomisproperty @velociraptorenthusiast @ohrintarou​ @mariand​ @phixoseusarmy​ @oranoyaora

NOTES ♕❣⁂ღ

hello, everyone! firstly, i would like to thank everyone that has commented and left asks about the story, all of you really kept me going! at some point, i lost all inspiration for this story and even considered discontinuing it, but i coudn’t. it’s been a nice journey between the innerworkings of a toxic relationship, and i feel like i can... truly understand what the mc feels like now (i don’t know if that makes sense?). again, thank you for sticking around, and i hope to see you all in the next series i have planned!

[demivampirew]

Amelie

Protective-Dad Henry one shot.

Summary: Henry and you had a daughter when you were twenty years old. Now, Amelie is a teenager and has to tell his dad that she’s dating a boy.

Triggers: Talking about sex; young pregnancy (and the struggle of being young parents) - I think those are all the triggers 😁

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe​ @thereisa8ella​​

- Please, don't make me do this, mom! - Amelie pleaded.

- You want to be treated like an adult, then act like one.- you said with a steady voice.

She looked at you angrily but begging for mercy at the same time but then finally obeyed your order and went into his father's computer room to share the news. As she started to find a way to tell her dad about her new boyfriend, you laid against the door frame to witness the conversation.

- Dad, I ... I... -the teenager began, trying to find the words that seemed to vanished from her head out of fear.

She and her dad were closed and she was the apple of his eyes. From the moment she was born, he went above and beyond to make sure she would have everything she could ever need and want. You two were a great team, making sure she was happy but did not spoil her too much and made her work hard on domestic tasks for her to pay for any unnecessary item she wanted to help her learn about the importance of valuing work.

Having a kid when you were only twenty was a challenge that you hope she would never have to face herself. In your case, you were lucky: you were dating the most wonderful man who saw that pregnancy as a miracle despite the difficulties it may bring with it. He was next to you every second he could and even on those times he had to be in LA as he tried hard to make it in Hollywood -many times he tried to quit and join the Royal Marines so he could support you and the baby, but every time you would encourage him to keep fighting for his dream-job since you were lucky to have a well-paid job as a secretary for your cousin who was a Doctor and thankfully counted with the help of yours and his mom to look after the baby girl while you worked. But, even if you were living apart for months, he would be there one way or another.

The last few years he had been busier travelling around the world, but he remained the same loving father and husband that he had always been.

For someone who would have done anything for his little angel, like renouncing his dream career or even risk his life on the Marines so he could give his family a decent life, it would be hard to digest the fact that she had a boyfriend. He may not be one of those authoritative dads, a controlling father figure, but he was overprotective. He would not shame his daughter for wanting a relationship, but he didn't trust guys. He lived his life in fear of that day in which his princess would found a guy: what if he hurt her when he wasn't around to protect her? What if he wanted her just for sex and broke her heart? Those were some of the worries he has had since she turned fourteen, he knew that this day was likely to happen.

- What's going on, Mel? - he asked worriedly as he stood up from his pc-chair and approached her to cup her face on his hands, inspecting her face to make sure she was ok.

-I... - Amelie took a deep breath and spilt out the words- I have a boyfriend.- she said and closed her eyes of fear - no because she feared he would get violent or anything like that; she didn't want to see the disappointment and pain on his face.

- That can't be possible! No, no, no... you're a little girl! - he exclaimed, frustrated.

- I'm not! I'm fifteen, dad!- she argued.

- Exactly! Fifteen! A baby! - he confirmed.

- I'm only five years younger than you two when you had me.- she replied angrily.

- Darling, I love you, but being a parent at that age wasn't exactly a walk in the park. We struggle a lot to make it work. Do you want to be in our shoes? - he questioned.

- OMG, Dad, stop it!- Mel shouted embarrassed.

- You're the same age that the girl from Taylor Swift's song Fifteen and you know what happened to that girl? She had a boyfriend and he only wanted to have sex with her.- he explained.

At that moment, you chuckled at the fact that he knew so well a Taylor Swift song - probably he got into her music to bond with his daughter who was a big fan of her music. They both looked at you as if they just noticed you there.

- See? I told you I shouldn't have told him!- the teenager reproached you.

- Did you know about this?! - Henry asked you surprised and disappointed. - Anyway, you're not allowed to keep seeing this boy.-he ordered.

- Go to your room.- you asked gently to the girl who was both angry and sad. She was about to cry, you knew it.

After Amelie stormed out of the room, you approached your husband who was now sitting on the chair, lost in his thoughts. You went from behind and leaned to hug him. He placed his hands over yours but didn't speak as he was still caught on the argument he just had with his little princess.

- Why did she have to grow up so fast? - he wondered sadly.

- I know.- you replied softly close to his ear.- You need to talk to her...you need to stop preventing her from seeing this boy or any other person she might want to date in the future.

He turned around to face you. Your eyes on his and vice-versa. His arms embraced you when you sit on his lap to be closer to him to talk more comfortably.

- Look, I know that you think you're doing the best for her and all you want to do it's protect her, but you're doing the opposite by prohibiting her from having a relationship.- you began to explain as you played with the few curls on his hair.- She's not a kid any more...she might be your little angel and she will continue to be so until your dying day. She'll never cease to be your precious Melie, no matter her age. But now, this is an important time in the life of a woman or any person: she's starting to have feelings, desires, dreams, etc and we need to encourage her to pursue them in a safe environment. If you act the way you just did, that won't stop her from dating, but she'll avoid telling you and you risk losing that close bond you work so hard to have. Besides, if she doesn't trust you to tell you she's dating someone because she knows you'll get mad at her, she probably won't share if something bad happens to her, if she's been hurt in any way, because she might believe you blamed that on her and how do you expect to protect your daughter if she doesn't allow you to know about her intimacy.

- But, that's exactly why I don't want her to date! She's young and boys are creeps and only think of sex. What if someone uses her for that o worse, forced himself on her? - he questioned worriedly. He was almost in tears by the thought of somebody hurting his little girl.

- Give her the benefit of doubt. I was around her age when I had my first boyfriend and yes, he was one of those who only wanted me for sex, but I was smart enough to realize that and I left him before anything happened. A lot of my friends and school-mates went through that, some were smart as I was, other not so much but learned an important lesson and few lucky ladies truly found amazing guys who were in love with them. I found you no long after that and you didn't want me only for that, did you?- you asked even though you already knew the answer.

- Of course not, you were everything to me.- he confirmed.

- Don't you think Amelie is special enough for her to find somebody like you?

- I guess.-he replied sighing, defeated.

- Don't lose the bond you have with her. Let her know that no matter what her dad will always be there for her. That she doesn't have to hide anything from you, that eventually, you will be ok with it and that you only want her to be safe.- you advised him. He nodded and then pressed his forehead against yours as he placed one of his hands on your face.

- You two are my entire world.- he said softly.

- I know, baby. And you are mine too.- you replied with a smile.

Henry kissed you and then he went to talk to his daughter while you headed to the living room to replied some work-mails from on your laptop. Later, your daughter came into the room and hugged you.

-Thanks, mom, you're the best!- she thanked you.

- You're welcome, sweetie.- you answered- You have to understand your dad... he's done the impossible to protect you and now he's scared for you because the world is dangerous for us, women, and he was a teen too; he grew up with other boys of that age who weren't as nice and he fears you might found someone that doesn't have the best intentions with you. He wants you to be safe, that's all.- you informed her and she nodded.

On Sunday, you organized for Tyler, your daughter's boyfriend, to come to have lunch with the family so you could meet him officially.

The boy was polite and well-educated. He had impeccable modals for a fifteen-year-old and seemed smart too.

He seemed to be intimidated by your husband, who purposely acted menacing -which made you rolled your eyes and chuckled.

You had to give credits when it's due: the boy not only survived the day with his girlfriend's dad but he actually managed to get him to like him - all things considered. He was a gamer and into comic books and fantasy books, he found something to bond with your husband

[witchybluedeity]

Not Like This Part One

I blame @godsliltippy, @tsarinatorment, @gumnut-logic and @flyboytracy this entire idea.

John appearing mid-Pendergast marathon made Gordon jump way more than it should have, and the smirk on Scott's face proved the pilot had seen it. "John! It was getting to the good part!"

"We have a situation."

That got his attention. Within seconds Gordon and Scott both switched from casual brothers to International Rescue operatives, a skill they learned in WASP and the Air Force. "What's up John?"

"There's a whale beached on a sandbank off of Tasmania's West Coast, the caller said its name is… Gatsby?"

"You're kidding!”

John shook his head, bringing up the image of the beached whale. "Nope."

Gordon grinned and stood up. “I'm on my way!”

“Gordon, we don't rescue animals-”

“Scott, you don't get it! This is Gatsby! He's a research whale! He helps scientists and marine biologists monitor how much marine life take care of the ocean! They've already learned how whales are essentially the hearts of the ocean. They're a key participant in making sure the ocean's biological carbon pump is working efficiently by absorbing the dissolved atmospheric carbon from the surface and sequestering it to the sea floor. Since they're one of the largest marine animals, they can absorb up to 33 tons of carbon when they reach old age! They're helping the planet!" The aquanaut concluded his speech with a challenging glare towards Scott, who sent back a glare of his own.

"We're not an animal rescue association, Gordon. We rescue humans."

"Humans are animals too, Scott! International Rescue will rescue Gatsby, whether I have to go alone or not!" Gordon raced towards the small aquarium where the flooring concealed his chute, determined to postpone the argument until he wasn't in a hurry.

Scott had other ideas. "You can't be serious!"

"La la la, I can't hear you!" He nearly slammed his hand onto the hidden scanner in the class, impatiently waiting for the walls to surround him and take him to his awaiting 'Bird. "I'm going. And I dare you to try to stop me."

The venom in his brother's voice caused Scott to flinch despite everything, and he let out a heavy sigh, facepalming. Stubborn brothers.

The now-agitated aquanaut folded his arms tightly over his chest before turning to change into his uniform, releasing a heavy sigh. “Goddammit Scott.” Letting his training drop, his excited marine-loving side took over and a smile blossomed on his face. “I’m saving the Gatsby! Nothing could go wrong!” 

The mechanical arms helped him finish suiting up, and soon Gordon was taking a deep breath and diving into Four’s tank with eagerness he usually reserved for ocean swims. Thunderbird Four’s airlock opened for her pilot the moment he hit the water, and as always he patted her outer hull in thanks before pulling himself in. 

“Get ready girl.” He grinned as he positioned himself in the seat, flipping into the control room. “We’re saving one of the most famous whales.” Starting up her systems was mandatory, but it sent a ripple of calmness through him, as though she was reassuring him. As though she could sense his nervousness prior to every mission. 

One of the many reasons he loved her. 

“Thanks girl.” With a smile, Gordon patted her dash, watching the tank door slide open to reveal the ocean surrounding Tracy Island. “Thunderbird 4 is go.” 

“F.A.B Thunderbird 4. Professor Shikund is going to meet you there.”

“Professor Shikund?! No way!” Gordon couldn’t help bouncing in his seat a little, drawing a smile from his older brother. “You can tell him I’ll be right there!”

“Your ETA is half an hour.” 

Gordon fell still as he considered the time frames, biting his lip in worry. “How long has Gatsby been out of water John?” The other end was quiet for a moment.

“The Professor wants to talk to you personally. Should I-?”

“Patch him in John! Patch him in!” So what if he was fanboying? He’d read everything about the Professor, and had dreamt of meeting him.

Not even thirty seconds later, a new voice filled the cabin. “International rescue?”

Gordon nearly squealed, grin splitting his face in two. “Professor Shikund!!”

The Professor chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. “I’m guessing you the marine expert of the team?”

“I wouldn’t say expert-” The aquanaut flushed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just have a great interest in what happens below sea level.”

“That’s an understatement” John piped up, his hologram still active next to the Professor’s.

Shikund’s lips quirked into a small grin. “As much as I’d like to have a conversation with you, I currently have a beached whale waiting for rescue.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly in remembrance. In his excitement to talk to the Professor, he’d forgotten about the reason he was headed to the sandbank. How had he forgotten about that? “Right, right! Gatsby. How long has he been out of the water for? I’m twenty minutes out.”

“Gatsby’s been out here for approximately two hours and thirty-four minutes. He can only be out for another fifty-three before he perishes.”

“Right, okay.” Gordon reached up above the viewing glass and flicked a few switches, narrowing his eyes slightly. “If I push it I can be there in thirteen minutes. Four won’t like it, but a life is a life, and we save them.” With a flick of his wrist, the aquanaut swiped John away when the red-head opened his mouth to comment.

He’d known his brother long enough to recognize John was going to verbalize something similar to Scott. He didn’t need unnecessary comments.

“That’ll give us forty minutes to get him back into the ocean.” The professor didn’t like it, and neither did Gordon. It was barely any time, and he only had Thunderbird Four’s gear. They would have to improvise.

“Then we’ll save him in thirty.” Determination filled his voice as the aquanaut pushed his ‘Bird’s engines, plans already being formulated. One thing he knew he could try was using the robotic arms to either dig away the sand or gently pull the whale back into the water.

A frown appeared at the thought. Both options could be dangerous towards Gatsby’s health, which was something Gordon wanted to avoid at all costs, but they didn’t have many options. Thunderbird Four wasn’t geared up like her sisters. “What equipment do you have with you now?”

“I don’t have much that’ll be useful I’m afraid, I only came out here to check up on Gatsby.”

A heavy sigh left Gordon at the confession, one hand leaving the controls to run through blond hair. “This won’t be easy.” But then again, nothing they ever did was. Even the easiest missions sometimes took a turn for the worst.

Scott at home while his brothers were all out on missions proved that.

“But can we do it?”

Gordon felt his heart stop. What if they couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t do it? He’d come out unprepared, carrying only the minimal gear. Something an IR operative never did. Something an ex-WASP Lieutenant never did.

But he knew someone he could depend on. Leaving the professor’s question unanswered for the moment, the aquanaut touched the IR symbol on his baldric. “Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two, are you there?”

It was quiet for a moment before his brother responded. “This better be important Gordon, I’m en-route to a hospital with injured victims in cargo.”

Wincing slightly, phantom pain momentarily spiked through his back. He’d known Virgil had been sent to a damaged ship in the South Atlantic, but he’d opted to stay behind. It was a busy day, and Gordon knew his brother could handle it, especially since the GDF had also been dispatched to help out. “Anything bad?”

“Nothing that’ll keep them hospitalized for long. What do you need?” 

He chuckled, shaking his head with a stage-whispered “Lucky bastards” that would earn him a scolding if Grandma heard. “Those pods still functional? Might need one.” 

“Dear brother mine, I’m not heavy-handed. I’ll be ten minutes dropping these guys off, then I’ll join you. What’s your position?”

“One time! One time! And I’m headed to the West Coast of Tasmania, twenty minute fly from your location.” He wasn’t mentioning how he’d worked with Scott to keep on eye on their brothers. “Forty minute time slot already, gonna need a land pod but keep it watertight, it might get a bit wet.” Narrowing his eyes, Gordon could see the seafloor beneath him slowly rising, a sign he was nearing land. 

“What’s the situation?” 

“Beached science whale, he’s an important one Virg.” The hesitance in Virgil’s response sent a wave of irritation through his veins. A life was a life! 

“Scott’ll have your hide.”

“He can go choke on Grandma’s food for all I care.” And right now, he really didn’t. Scott was wrong, they did save animal lives. They’d never specified what lives they saved in all the years International Rescue had been operating, so why suddenly start now? ‘Because Scott is already riled up from being grounded’ was the answer in the back of his mind, but Gordon ignored it. 

“Ouch Gords.”  Virgil’s sigh was audible over the comms, reaching up to flick switches above the visual, a sure sign he was changing altitude. “Don’t chew him out, he’s just aggravated.” 

“Oh, and I’m not? You try dealing with his grumpy ass while everyone else is out for a good six hours and see how aggravated you are.”  The fact the two brothers had grown up dealing with each other while he, John and Alan had strayed to their own paths passed over him.

“Brother issues?” The professor queried, amusement clear in her expression when Gordon startled for the second time that day, not that he’d admit it to anyone still. “I know how you feel.” 

Gordon frowned, head cocking to one side. “You do?” 

“Veterinarian Harley Shikund-” 

“He’s your brother?! Do you realize how many injured animals I’ve taken to him?!” He could hear Virgil snickering beside Shikund, but Gordon paid no attention. 

“Oh I’m aware, he’s always mentioning an International Rescue operative bringing in injured animals for him to check over. Says it keeps him wondering what you’re going to bring him next.” 

Virgil’s hologram blinked out, and Gordon bounced in his seat. 

“When I saw Gatsby in trouble, that’s why I called. I knew this animal loving operative could help.” Shikund smiled, patting something behind her, most likely the beached Gatsby. The soft clicks that sounded through the comm unit confirmed it was the distressed whale. 

Gordon nearly melted at the communication, and his determination to help Gatsby grew just that bit more. “Tell Gatsby I’ll be there in three minutes. Then we can get started helping back into the ocean.” 

“You got it. Don’t get too close though, or you’ll be needing a tow. The sandbank rises fast.” 

“F.A.B Professor, see you soon.” Cutting the connection, Gordon allowed himself a deep, happy sigh. First the Pendergasts, now Harley and Professor Shikund. He was meeting all his idols in this line of work. Sitting up with a big smile, he decreased his speed in preparation. It’d take Thunderbird Four one minute longer to get there, but he didn’t exactly want to get her beached alongside Gatsby. 

That’d be fun to explain to Virgil.

[clockworkgraystairs]

Domestic prompts "Person A is working late. They come home to person B sleeping on the couch with 3 empty cups of coffee close to them. Person B was waiting for person A to come home." So happy for your 1k my love 😘

HELLO MY LOVE, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS PROMPT I REALLY LOVED IT!!! 🥺❣️

@awkward-avocado-s Hi hun!! I’m tagging you here since I received the same prompt from you, thank youuuuuuu! 😊

Also, I’m a bit delayed jdjksd I’m sorry, I hope you like it!! 

A massive thank you @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 for helping me with my monstrous sleepy mistakes and for all the hype, love ya so much! 

"Person A is working late. They come home to person B sleeping on the couch with 3 empty cups of coffee close to them. Person B was waiting for person A to come home." Human AU

By the time Jude finally parked the car outside the apartment it was past midnight. Again. 

She cursed under her breath. 

For what felt the thousandth time in the month, her boss had commanded the entire team to stay overtime. He was determined to make their life a living hell. Madoc was lucky Jude respected him like a father, otherwise she wouldn’t pull up with all the extra time crap.

The stairs felt as if they were infinite. Or maybe her feet were getting heavier. Maybe both.

Upon reaching the door she took a second to rest her head against it, the wood cold on her forehead. She’d promised she would return earlier. 

Not that Cardan got mad because of it, he was always supportive with her and her job. Sometimes even more than she deserved. He’d respected her space from the very first moment and never complained for all the late hours. His only comment about it was that we worried about her driving alone at night, nothing more. 

Cardan could read her like the palm of his hand. He noticed when she’d had a rough day and needed space, or when anxiety creeped up and a couple of hugs and encouraging words would make it better. By looking at her eyes he could know if words were unnecessary at all. He would pull her close and kiss her worries away. 

He did so much. And yet she couldn’t make it home early. 

Turning the knob as soft as she could Jude slid inside, her mind running as it tried to find a way to compensate her husband. She should wake up before him the next morning and make him breakfast. Or allow him to read her a chapter of his favorite book. A massage could also- Her mental chatter disappeared abruptly as she lifted her gaze and spotted a figure laying on the couch. 

At first sight it looked like a pile of blankets. Only as she approached she could distinguish Cardan’s sharp features underneath and resting on his chest their 3 year old, who through her half opened lips snored softly as she always did. Cardan claimed she’d inherited that from Jude, that liar.

They were partially illuminated by the tv, where Beauty and the Beast was paused. Jude pressed her hand to her mouth to bite back a laugh, Hallie loved that movie so much and apparently her husband wasn’t able to resist her puppy eyes. 

Under the dim light she was perfectly capable of seeing their ruffled hair. That, she’d inherited from him. Black, unyielding locks sprawled everywhere. 

A new wave of tenderness ran up her chest at the view. This was what made everything worth it. The late hours at work, the stressful days… it was all for them. Her family was the most precious thing ever, and she’d make sure their peace would never be disrupted. 

Jude left her shoes next to her purse and coat to make the least amount of noise possible and walked closer. With careful movements she took little Hallie in her arms. She stirred a bit but with soothing whispers was back asleep in a couple of seconds. Cardan shifted but didn’t wake up. A small stain on his shirt marked the place where Hal had been drooling all over him.  

While walking to the nursery Jude held her baby close. She never got tired of realizing how beautiful she was, and her smell was one of the most relaxing things she could think about. Hallie smelled like home. 

Once Hal was in her crib tucked between her blankets and stuffed animals, Jude kissed her forehead and murmured “Good night my love”, before exiting the room.

The moment she returned to the living room, she had already gotten out from her office clothing and wore an old shirt she’d stolen from Cardan some years ago. 

On top of the small table rested an empty feeding bottle and three cups with remains of what smelled like coffee. Jude sighed. He’d tried to wait for her again. 

After turning off the tv, she slid under the blanket and curled next to him, moaning internally at the warmness. Cardan stirred and half-opened his eyes, mumbling something Jude couldn’t understand. 

“Shh,” she soothed, cupping his cheek. “It’s me.”

Immediately his hand curled around her waist, pulling her closer. He smiled at her with a drowsy adorable expression before frowning in confusion. “Hallie…”

“In her crib, don’t worry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I tried to stay up-”

“Hey, don’t.” Jude interrupted him as a pang of guilt pierced her chest. “There is nothing you need to apologize about. I should’ve been here earlier…” 

Cardan shook his head and buried it in Jude’s neck, muffling his words. “Then you’re not allowed to do it either. You’re out there catching criminals, that shit’s important.”

“Nothing is more important than you.” She whispered, delivering soft kisses along his face, on his cheeks, his lips, on the small circles under his eyes. 

He chuckled and froze a moment before pulling back to stare at the stain on his shirt. “You usually drool all over your important things?” 

Jude let out an offended scoff and pinched his arm, pulling a dramatic gasp out of him. 

“Shut up… don’t blame me for your daughter’s vandalism.” She mocked. 

“She’s an angel.”

“She learned all her devilry from you, don’t think I haven’t noticed she uses that same pout you put every time you want something.” Gods in heaven knew she couldn’t resist that face. The first time she saw Hallie with it while trying to spend more time playing, Jude knew she was royally fucked.

Cardan hummed. “Can’t recall. Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes, Jude’s hands found the hem of his shirt and started to tug it. “You know, it’s bad for your health to sleep with damp clothes.”

“Oh really?” He teased.

“Mhm” Jude smiled. “Take it off.” 

Soon the offending piece of clothing hit the floor, allowing her to press her hands against his chest, feeling his heartbeat. She leaned to drop a kiss there too, making him hold her tighter. 

“Do you want to go back to bed?” He asked. 

Jude groaned softly. “No… let’s stay here. It’s like a cocoon, a warm and comfy cocoon. I had no idea the couch was this comfortable.”

“Well of course it is.” He said, nibbling at her ear. “I bought it especially to be able to sleep here when your snoring fills the room.”

“I don’t- !” Jude started to argue back when his lips crashed against hers. 

She melted into the kiss. Cardan rolled over so he was on top of her, hands roaming down her sides and legs making her moan. That encouraged him to kiss her deeper. The length of his body was hard against her, making her head spin.

“You’re insufferable.” She gasped between kisses. 

“That’s why you love me, sweet Jude.” He answered. He trailed a finger down her back, sending shivers through her body. “Though I must say… I find it quite offensive you’re still able to wear that shirt when mine’s already gone.” 

Biting her lip, Jude considered him for a moment. “We need to be really quiet.”

The way he smiled at her, had her stomach swirling in anticipation. Slowly, he peeled his shirt from her.

“Then you’ll have to try hard, my love.”

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

AO3  🌻  Masterlist

Tags: @sweetlyvillainous @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @aesthetics-11 @thesirenwashere @jurdanhell @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @nightbringer @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @vanessa172003 @booksandothersecrets @ireallyshouldsleeprn @fuzzypinneaples @acourtofbookworms @theoceanfaewriter @starborn-faerie-queen @alittledribbledrabble @nahthanks

(if you wish to be tagged/untagged, or if I forgot to tag you pls let me know!)

[honeydots]

127 with shuake would be good.

"My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you're ready to sleep."

once again. didnt forget abt these. im working thru em. 

Summary: Goro wakes up one day in a hospital bed with only a bullet wound to keep him company, and not a single memory of who he used to be. 

-

(ao3 link)

-

He was almost certain the last few weeks had been a dream. 

Or maybe, several long and white coated dreams. The kinds with bright lights at an arm's length, and ill-fitting clothes, and men coming in waves carrying their clipboards as flags. With deep voices all at once whispering, echoing, “what is your name?” 

Maybe he was in a hospital. 

His first day of full consciousness was slow and lonely. His second day too, time spent wiggling his toes and counting ceiling spots. Day three he asked for a glass of water and scared a nurse out of her skin, and his week was kickstarted. Which only really meant an actual doctor came in and declared retrograde amnesia the only explanation for his condition.

His “condition” was quite the word to use. Which condition? They could play bingo. Was it his memory loss (obvious, weak narrative), or could it have been the state of comatose he’d been in (intriguing), or even the bullet wound (now here was a mystery, what a plotline) he’d heard remarkably little about? Amnesia, the fickle bastard, was the type to bring one answer to dinner, and disappear by morning. 

But what did he know? 

Well, he knew that this was a pretty shitty hospital.  As far as how he assumed they should be managed, this one was on a low tier. And according to the nurse, as was their police station. Incompetent, and uncaring of his case, which had apparently been made. 

It’d been a week now. He could get up. Limited, with his IV, but he could. The nurse said later that maybe the police would listen to him now, since he was conscious, basically up and kicking. ‘Listen to him now,’ was also an interesting phrase, because he hadn’t been speaking in the first place. 

He wasn’t injured. His vitals were fine, the nurses had told him, and commented he was taking up an unnecessary bed. Not that he could actually make any kind of sound argument, which was frustrating enough on its own, but this didn’t seem like proper procedure. 

He was, once again, very alone in his room. He thought about going to the police station. Incompetent as they may be, there would be no answers here. There was no one here to help him; some healthy boy in a hospital bed. 

He got up. His IV was stuck in poorly, the tape just barely holding on. They’d disconnected him from all sorts of machines. Nothing was roping him down except for saline solution and his own two feet. 

And, he was already standing. 

It wasn’t hard to pull out. 

His hospital gown was tied all the way down, falling just past his knees. He had odd socks on, their texture was weird, and they were several sizes too big. They were thick and patterned, maybe slip proof? But shoeless as he was, they would do.  

The hallway was very empty. He was on the ground floor, but he wasn’t sure there were other stories. Maybe one, or a basement. It didn’t matter much. There just wasn’t anyone around. His concern was in that he didn’t know how long their absence would last. 

There was a glass door at the end of the hallway.

To the police he’d go. A medical bill dodging amnesiac would probably get him some attention. Enough to get a name? 

The door was not locked. That was probably good, for a hospital, and not a security breach, which is where his mind had initially gone. 

Doors are meant to be opened, he thought. There really isn’t anything wrong with that. 

It was just a little bright outside. The sun was up but not too far. He was in the parking lot, and it was almost entirely devoid of cars. Small, small hospital. 

He didn’t exactly have a map, and no nurse was around to give him any condescending directions. He’d might as well go forward, then. He started walking, and thought to himself how odd his feet felt on the concrete. 

No one was out. He hesitated to call it deserted, just maybe a bit early. He kept walking, nerves high, still worried he might get mauled by a stray doctor.

It seemed like this was a very small town, going by his surroundings. Lots of trees, and cracked roads, and old buildings. He didn’t think much of taking it all in. He’d have time for sightseeing when he remembered his initials. 

A bit farther ahead was a woman, leaning on a car parked on the side of the road. She was glaring down at her phone. She looked— maybe irritated? Or tired. He wondered if he could ask her for directions. An aimless stroll through town wouldn’t take him to where he was going, after all. 

“Excuse me,” he called, “Ma’am? Do you know the way to the police station?” He approached her with just enough caution to call it looking out for himself, ignoring the sorry state he was already in. 

She glanced up from her phone. Her hair was short, and dark, and it bobbed around her face. She registered him for a moment, and her eyes went big. 

“Holy shit.” 

He knew enough to know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I need to go to the police, please.” 

The woman kept staring at him. “You—” she stuttered, “are you Goro Akechi? You are, aren’t you?” 

This encounter was already going awry. Did she know him? “Do you know me?” 

“Uh…I mean, no, we’ve never met.” She pushed herself off her car, and slowly put her phone back into her pocket. 

That wasn’t really what he meant. He needed to persist, here. This could be a lucky hit. “No I— Do you know who I am?” 

Blatant confusion spread across her face. “Uh…  Are you not Goro Akechi?”

“I don’t know,” he answered. 

She stared at him again, almost suspicious. Then she looked him up and down.

“Are you… coming from the hospital?” 

“Yes.” He watched her mouth open just a bit in disbelief. He wondered how this woman knew him. If explaining would get more information out of her, then he’d do it. Privacy only existed when you had something to protect, after all. “I’ve been given an amnesiac diagnosis, you see. I’m going to the police station to see if I can find any sort of lead on myself.” 

She looked shocked. “Amnesia? And you’re going to the cops?” She blinked, and suddenly looked very serious. She grabbed one of his shoulders. “Wait. That’s bad news. Don’t go to the police.” 

He (Goro?) hadn’t expected to hear that.“What? And why shouldn’t I?”  

“You… holy shit, kid, do you actually have amnesia?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen you need to— oh good god, this is gonna sound like I’m trying to kidnap you— I definitely know who you are. I can tell you but we shouldn’t… here. If someone finds you… ” She exhaled hard, and looked him dead on. It made Goro freeze. “Fuck, okay. The gist of it is— you’re in more danger than you realize. Like, a lot more. Will you come talk with me in my car?” 

Alright. So, a lot to process, and a lot he didn’t know how to. He didn’t even know if he should process it, or if that was the kind of story that should be immediately disregarded. Someone telling you to not go to the police and please get in their car seemed like a textbook stranger-danger red flag. There had been something uneasy about her tone, though. Like genuine concern— not that such a thing couldn’t be perfected and acted, however. 

But she’d given him a name. And it felt almost tangible, the more he thought about it. Less bendable and more sturdy. It was very easy to attach to himself. And it was a lead, wasn’t it? 

“Hey, did you get discharged, or are you just wandering around? Cause they’re gonna be looking for you if they didn’t let you out,” said the woman, jump starting Goro (almost certainly, Goro) out of his head. “And kid, I cannot just let you turn yourself in to the cops.” 

‘Turn myself in,’ he thought to himself. Such particular wording. It made his stomach drop. This woman knew more than him, clearly. And really, for fucks sake, if he died, he died. Obviously he hadn’t left enough of a mark on anyone to warrant not a single visitor during a five year coma. According to the nurses, it was more evident that he’d simply been dumped in town— like someone had already been trying to get rid of him. 

Well, whoever they were, they’d forgotten to bury his bones. 

He straightened himself up. “Okay.” 

She looked surprised, at first. She swallowed around it. “...Yep, okay then. Hop in before you change your mind.” She popped open her car door, and Goro circled around the side and followed suit. 

Her car was messy. It was filled with food wrappers and empty bottles, but papers and notebooks were scattered around, too. So she kept busy, it seemed. He decided he’d consider this a point in the not-about-to-murder-you direction. Too much here that could be used as evidence against her. Too personalized. He was almost envious. 

She adjusted her seat forwards and turned on the ignition. She was a bit jittery, Goro noticed, as she scratched the back of her head vigorously. 

“So, I’m gonna drive us somewhere that isn’t here but I can talk and drive so, just— like,  just a second, okay?” 

He nodded. She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. “...Goddamn,” she muttered, and then pressed down on the gas, turning her car onto the barren road. 

She kept her eyes forward, but kept true to her promise of talking. She sighed. “Right. So, uh, to start… Okay, first, my name’s Ichiko Ohya, I’m a journalist. Get that cleared away. Next comes you which is a bit more complicated, but you probably wanna know why we’re dodging cops so I’ll start there. Or, as close to there as I can.”

He would take anything he could get from her, actually. The cops situation was undeniably concerning, but right now he was essentially a sentient empty shell, absorbing everything for the first time. A kid in a metaphorical candy store, but the store was a dodgy reporter who still might be kidnapping him and just stalling.  He’d call himself the kid, but it dawned on him he didn’t even know how old he was. Fantastic. More things the hospital staff hadn’t bothered to tell him. 

“Your name’s Goro Akechi. I told you that already but, that’s you. At least I’m like, ninety percent sure.” She spared him a glance. “You do look a bit different but all in all I’m— I’m pretty sure. Just the hair and the stubble, you know.” 

Goro hadn’t exactly looked in a mirror recently, so no, he didn’t know. He knew he had long hair— certainly longer than Ohya’s. He rubbed his jaw and felt the rough and gritty bristles that had prickled onto him. It bothered him that he didn’t know. It bothered him that he didn’t know what he looked like. 

Ohya continued, not letting him dwell for long. “You’re also sort of famous. Well, you were, and it was mainly with teenagers and moms in the city, but you were a popular detective. So, that’s how I know you. And I swear I’m getting to the running from cops part, but you have to know this first first. Oh, shit, it’s right here.” She took a sharp turn into a grocery store, and Goro had to grip the side to keep steady in his seat. 

She didn’t act very sheepish about it. “Sorry, for that. We’re gonna talk in here.” 

She paused her explanation to pull into a spot, which Goro felt a little thankful for because, under his circumstances, that felt like a lot of information to take in. He was well known, but not well known enough that anyone out here knew him. ‘Famous detective’ raised some weird alarms in his head, a position absurd enough that it might be true. It felt unfortunately right, like a disappointing truth. It was different from his name, more unwelcome. But it didn’t click either. Nothing had been clicking at all. 

There was a pit growing in his stomach, like something was in there, chewing down on his insides. But he’d found he didn’t care for ignorance, so he would put up with it for as long as it took. 

Ohya turned her car off, pushed her seat away from the wheel, and got herself comfortable. She faced him, nonchalant but sincere. “So this is where the really juicy stuff comes in, alright? So like, listen up now, if you weren’t.” There was something very serious about her eyes. 

As if he’d have let any of her explanation slip under his radar. “I’m listening.”  

That was a good enough answer for her, it seemed. 

“I’m trying to think of the best way to explain this, honestly,” she started, thumbing the back of her hand. “You… okay, there was this guy. He was a really big politician that you were involved with, and it’s kind of a gray area as far as what you were doing for him, but you and him worked together. Kind of. He was a really shitty guy.” 

She looked like she was considering her words. She turned her focus out the windshield for a moment, and sighed again. “He basically ended up confessing because this group— well, actually, they don’t matter right now. He confessed, and he talked about you. For some of it. It was a long fucking confession. But half of what he said wasn’t even coherent. He was talking about some crazy shit and no one knows what he meant by it. You were part of that whole section.” She paused again, thinking. Goro let the silence sit. He didn’t want to jump to a conclusion until he’d heard her out. Which was proving difficult, truthfully, because this all left a sour taste in his mouth, one that had almost certainly been there before. 

“They wanted to take you in for questioning, but you disappeared. And, to add fuel to the fire, they were having a hard time getting any actual concrete evidence,” she began. “Can’t make an arrest based on a confession alone. He did other things, too, and that's what he ended up being indicted for, but there's still that problem. This whole chunk of confession is still there that technically lines up with his timeline of events, but there’s no way to prove it. That’s why they want you,” Ohya’s expression darkened. “At least, publicly, that’s why they want you.” 

She readjusted in her seat again. She faced him fully. “This guy— Shido’s his name— he’s got goons. Not to mention, he had complete control over the police, and there are other higher up’s who worked with him. Some of those guys got busted with Shido’s confession, but there’s a few where there just isn’t enough evidence to put ‘em away. These are the ones who you need to watch out for.” She took a deep breath, not finished. 

“I’m gonna be frank with you,” she continued. “They want you dead. They don’t want a single loose end, and you’re still dangling. The police are on their side. Are you understanding me?”

Goro tried to let the words sink in. That was more than a lot to think about. The creature in his stomach was grinning now, he could tell. But, this was also no time to get overwhelmed. If her words were true— which, the overwrought familiarity of her explanation compelled him to trust them— he needed to keep his head above the water. 

“So these— subordinates. You’re saying they’re after my life? They can’t be actively hunting me down, if they have the influence you’re implying, or I’d have been found by now,”  Goro said, deciding to ignore the fear creeping up his spine. “So then, what’s my public status? How unlikely was it that I was the egoless comatose patient they were searching for?” 

“Uh…” said Ohya, seeming like she was the stunned one. “Well, you’re right, they don’t really have a manhunt right now. I guess I don’t need to worry about beating around the bush here— you’re presumed dead.”

Interesting. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he said, furrowing his brow. “But, obviously, a body was never found. They’re probably prioritizing morgues then, not hospitals. That does explain why I wasn’t discovered after all this time.” Though, if they’re smart, they’d also keep an eye on cases like his. They probably were, in fact. He’d gotten lucky that the police here were clueless. 

Ohya gave him a very funny look. “You know, it’s almost creepy how well you’re taking this. You were in a coma this whole time?” She shook her head. “I’d have thought you’d be more out of it, honestly.” 

“Is this not what you’d consider a wake-up call? I’ve been ‘out of it’ for a week. It’s common sense that I’d react like this,” he told her. Just going outside had cleared his head. He had a feeling hospitals had never been a fitting place for him. “Yes, I was in a coma,” he added, as an afterthought. “They said I’d been shot.” 

Just as the words left his mouth, he realized the implications that had. 

Ohya noticed just as fast. “You said shot?” 

They’d certainly both had the same assumption— maybe an attempt had already been made after his life. 

But there was something that felt wrong about that scenario, too. “I’m not… entirely sure it’s what you think it is,“ he replied. Maybe wrong wasn’t the correct word but, it wasn’t completely right either. “There’s no benefit to not making my body public. And, if they’re really after me, it seems messy, to say the least, that they didn’t finish the job properly.” He tried to speak confidently. The effort was familiar, too. Part of him wondered when he’d get the chance to do some self-analysis and tear himself apart. 

Ohya caught on very quick, rolling with every punch Goro gave. “Christ, kid. What kind of shady shit were you into? So we’re thinking you’ve got another group after you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He really didn’t. There were missing pieces, but that was evident. He had no end of missing pieces. If he was supposed to be some detective, then maybe he should get on with acting like it, and figure out whatever the hell this was.

Whatever business he’d wrapped himself into. 

Ohya, again, spoke too quickly for Goro to finish digging through his own head.

“Maaan, I’ve really got myself into something haven’t I?” She rubbed her eyes, like she was already exhausted. “Look, I’m a busy woman. Don’t expect much out of me, but apparently I’ve got a bad habit of adopting puppies. So I’ll see if I can at least point you in the right direction, okay?” 

He didn’t have much of another choice, other than to let himself be killed. He nodded again, not sure whether to call himself pleased or solemn. 

She buzzed her lips and looked at him, obviously thinking. Then she opened her car door. “Well, okay. First things first, you gotta get some clothes, ‘cause you can’t go walking around like that. God, you don’t even have shoes…” She got out and stretched, and then turned back to him for one last comment. “Don’t expect much, okay? I’m not made of money. Don’t you dare go anywhere, either.” 

She slammed the door shut and started walking into the store. 

Goro was glad for the moment of peace. He let his jaw relax, closing his eyes. He hated how familiar the stress felt, and how desperate he was to welcome the feeling. A life or death promise was about as thrilling as one day should get. 

Getting any memory back was his top priority. But he didn’t have an inkling of where to start. He didn’t have a phone, or a computer, and certainly not a home. He guessed he could use a public computer at a library, but just searching himself might raise more questions than answers. They’d be important questions, he was sure, but he wondered about the bias, the assumptions, the fact that it’d be an outside perspective looking in. He didn’t know how delicately he should go about regaining his memories. 

Not to mention, he had only the word of a stranger and a low feeling in his stomach confirming he was even Goro Akechi. And now, with the reputation he’d had, if he even wanted to be him was questionable. Memories of such a life seemed… unpleasurable, at best, but he hadn’t set himself up to be able to just start over. Remembering his past was his best chance at plain old survival. 

He wanted to have some kind of plan before Ohya came back, but he was drawing blanks. What he really needed was someone who knew him personally. Beyond media attention, if there was a single poor soul around who’d actually known him. He found himself doubting such an existence, past anyone who was out for his head. 

He heard the car doors unlock, and he opened his eyes. Ohya was walking back with two bags, and she was on her phone again, barely looking where she was going. Well, there goes him having a plan. Bouncing ideas back and forth was the last thing he wanted to do. It was time wasted and he knew he would get frustrated, but his choices were limited. At least Ohya seemed pretty knowledgeable. It was possible she knew more than she was letting on, too. 

She opened up the car door and tossed the bags onto his lap. “Hey,” she began, setting herself back into place, “I got your stuff but— I remembered something in there that might be a good starting place for you, if I can run that by ya.” 

Or, of course, he could hear Ohya out and avoid idea bouncing all together. Something solid had come by much quicker than he thought. 

*****

Ohya’s plan wasn’t bad at all. 

She’d told him she had a contact from a few years ago, who was in charge of a bundle of self storage units. Apparently a certain “Goro Akechi” had registered himself one a couple months or so after Goro’s public disappearance. They’d told her once they noticed the name, but Ohya hadn’t taken up the lead at the time. When Goro asked why they’d even told her that, she left it at “no reason important,” and kept the topic adamantly off the table. Goro would push the envelope if it weren’t for the fact that his life (a life he didn’t even know he had, for the record, and one that still bothered him) was on the line. 

If this unit did belong to him, there could be a very solid lead on himself in there, and leads on his acquaintances, too. Ohya didn’t know if the garage still existed, though. So she said she’d give them a call and see if they could figure something out. 

Which is what led to Goro sitting in a barber’s chair. After he’d gotten dressed (an ensemble of sweats, a sweatshirt, and tennis shoes) Ohya had commented that he looked like he belonged in a homeless shelter, and “really needed a haircut.”

She said something about how he’d always kept himself looking clean, and Goro believed it. He was already feeling discomfited the way he was. So unkempt and basically filthy. So, she decided that while she was getting her contact all in order, she’d pay for him getting a trim and a shave. 

She was helping him more than he’d expected her to, in ways he didn’t really expect. But he’d take what he could get. He’d hardly had a reason to say no. 

He sat waiting in front of a mirror. He hadn’t gotten a good look at himself until now, but god, she was right, he looked pretty fucking bad. 

The first thought that came to him was sickly. Eyes sunken in, deep bags under his eyes. You wouldn’t expect him to have just been in a permanent state of slumber for the past five years. Or maybe the correct assumption would be, a coma hadn’t been enough sleep for him. 

His hair was just below his shoulders, and he had a very pitiful looking beard. He didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t think that would change much after his haircut, but it made him itch. It was a face that didn’t feel like his. He wanted to rip it off and replace it with a new one, one he knew better. 

Maybe he’d never liked looking at his reflection. 

Ohya had spoken to the barber for him. The one he got either wasn’t the talkative type, or really got his vibe of not wanting to speak to anyone. She went to work in silence, washing his hair with fruity shampoo and dressing him in a long black apron. That was all fine, albeit uncomfortable, but once she started cutting, Goro found he couldn't watch. The snips were loud, and definite, and it left his chest feeling tight. He couldn’t do anything but let his thoughts run blank. 

He wondered if that was hair he’d had before his incident, now falling away. He’d have the same eyes, and organs, and teeth, too. But he felt all wrong in this body. Like it had gone on without him. 

He was thankful when she moved to his beard. Just for a moment, though, because having someone so close to his face made him want to retreat as far back into himself as possible. A blade so close to his throat. He wondered how hard of a push it would take to make a cut. He wondered how deeply he’d have to go to make it bleed. 

 Maybe he’d always hated barbers, too. 

When she’d announced she was finished, and Goro forced himself to look back in the mirror, it actually took him aback. It had taken years off him. She’d styled his bangs, and left no hair on his chin, but most importantly, it was clean. Soft looking. Pleasant. 

It was almost enough to distract him from the discolored scar plastered on his forehead. 

He stared for probably too long. His disheveled bangs had kept it clearly out of view on his first glance, but now that he was fresh and groomed, it pushed its way into the limelight. It was reddish, and almost shiny, and painstakingly circular. 

He could feel dread bubbling up. He tore himself away from the mirror, and found an instant sense of relief when he wasn’t staring anymore. 

Reflections and barbers. More to read into later, he supposed. He was learning he had been quite the hassle. What an annoyance. 

Ohya met him at the entrance. Pure amusement was all over her face. “Shorter than I expected, but you’re looking pretty smart like that.” Her eyes went to his scar, but she made no comment on it. She frowned, but that was all. 

Goro didn’t mind her reluctance on the topic. He raised his eyebrows, and spoke with the silent mutual understanding of  “that is one gnarly goddamn scar” between them. “Ah, and I’m sure the sweatpants add to the look.” 

“Watch it,” she snapped back, sliding into her usual demeanor. “Not like I could get you Levi’s, kid.” 

She paid for his haircut, and out of the shop they went. They walked to the car in anticipating silence. She had her phone out again, texting someone now. Goro didn’t want to get his hopes up. Texting could mean anything, or nothing, or half of one or the other. 

She pushed her seat back getting into the car, and pulled one leg up with her. Goro waited for her to speak, keeping himself tense. He really wouldn’t be able to loosen up if he tried, like a wound up doll who’d gotten stuck. 

Ohya broke the quiet. “It’s still there.” 

Goro sucked in, but didn’t let himself relax. Nothing ended there. It was one check off a list, but not all of them.

 “And can we go in?” 

Ohya blew air out of her mouth. “Well, she said she wants to make sure it's you, because there's only so many privacy laws she wants to break.” She shrugged at him. “But honestly, looking at you now, there's not a doubt in my mind you’re Goro Akechi. So, you can chill about it.” 

He leaned back into his seat. The tensity had not left him. Something was making him lucky today, and he hated it. He would feel much more comfortable in the mitts of misfortune. But he couldn’t help feeling giddy, too. Like something was rubbing circles into his back, easing, but not erasing, bits and pieces of his concerns. It was something to focus on, and a goal to achieve. Above all, that relief made him feel pathetic. 

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to go today or not, but you look more thrilled than I think I’ve ever seen you, so I’m just gonna take that as a yes.” 

He hated the way she worded that. He frowned. “Only if you’re as concerned about my identity as you seemed to be earlier. You’re welcome to take your time, I’m surely not going anywhere.” 

“You’re snarky! I never realized you had an attitude,” Ohya laughed. 

She got the car going, and they were on their way to the unit. Apparently it was quite a ways, and Ohya advised him he’d better buckle in for a long one. 

He could feel his eyelids getting heavy. He had things he wanted to think about, and questions he wanted to ask. Working up a tolerance to being active was not something that could be done in a day, but fuck if he wouldn’t try anyway. 

But, despite how he tried to fight it, Goro fell asleep. 

*****

He woke up when they were about ten minutes from the units. Ohya commented she’d thought it was a little funny that he’d been so exhausted doing just about nothing all day, but admitted too that his body was probably pretty weak, and he really should take it easy. As easy as he could, at least. 

They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive. The sun was getting low now. They were passing by suburbs between grassy fields, driving past exit by exit. He had no idea how long they’d been going for. Ohya had called herself busy, and Goro believed it, so her continual help felt unusual. People weren’t just like this, he was almost sure. 

She also knew things that felt… almost inappropriately relevant to him. The topic of the unit still tingled in the back of his mind. Why had they called her about his storage? And for that matter, why had she even known so much about him? The information she had felt intimate— like the results of a deep investigation. Had this all been yielded from that politician? 

But Ohya had a distinct air of privacy. There could’ve been something personal about her aid, but Goro figured that she wouldn’t crack easily. It might be better to leave it— personal matters tended to yield lasting effects, after all. At least, he assumed so. He really wasn’t sure if that was as big of a plus as it appeared on the surface, though. 

When the centre came into view, Goro let those thoughts ease into the back of his mind. He could focus on Ohya’s MO later. This was leaps and bounds more important to him; if anything was going to last, it was this. He could play detective, just like he was supposed to, and maybe come across some special clue. Perhaps he could test out his muscle memory and flex whatever skills he presumed he’d had. 

They arrived, and it looked extremely closed. Like the only customers they’d been expecting were ghosts. The lights in the windows were off, and the gate guarding the units was shut tight. It wasn’t encouraging. 

Ohya read his expression pretty clearly. She bumped his shoulder with her fist. “She knows we’re coming, my contact’s still here. The front just closes at 6:00. I’ll deal with it, so just stay put for now.” 

And just as she said, after she hopped out of her car and approached the office, the door swiftly opened and a woman joined Ohya outside. The two of them seemed friendly. Goro watched as they talked, noting quizzically to himself that Ohya was someone who talked with her hands. 

Ohya gestured to her car and they both looked over to Goro. He watched them walk over, and obeyed smartly when Ohya signaled him to roll down his window. 

 The woman peeked her head around to look at him, her eyebrows arched high. “Wow,” she said, completely staring now. “I mean, he looks like him, that’s for sure.” 

Ohya grinned. “Sure does. That enough for you to let us in?” She didn’t really say it as a request, more like an expectation. Goro appreciated the tone. 

She fiddled with her bottom lip. “Hmm. You said amnesia? He got any doctor's notes about that?” She asked, giving cue to Ohya’s sour expression. 

“You didn’t say a word about notes 

on the phone, you know.” 

The contact clicked her tongue, and looked back to Goro. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sighed. “Just cause it’s you, Ohya, I’ll take that nasty scar on his forehead as my confirmation.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Come with me inside, I’ll get his key.” 

Ohya made a haughty noise of achievement, and followed the woman back in. Goro rolled up the window again. 

They were taking a little while. He rubbed at his scar absentmindedly. So obviously a bullet wound, maybe that had been the real reason his barber hadn’t made much conversation. Whoever tried to kill him had shot just where it counted. You don’t fire a warning shot into a head. He wondered if he’d deserved it, and doubted he didn’t.  

Goro removed his hand when Ohya reemerged from the building, and she was looking confident. She slid back into her car and jingled the key to his unit victoriously. “Easy peasy. She’s gonna open the gate for us in a second. Your unit number is 508.” 

They waited for a little while, nerves ever growing, until the automatic gates opened on their own, groaning and creaking until fully extended. Ohya started her car and drove in, squinting at the unit numbers in the low light.

Rows upon rows of garages awaited them. This must’ve been a pretty large lot, by the looks of things. The dirt road was the only uneven piece of scenery, the repetition was endless. He kept a watchful eye on the unit numbers, as well, skipping between the evens and the odds. 

After a few right turns, and one very tight u-turn, they were there. 508 stood wedged between its neighbors, almost at the end of the row, but not quite. Not a thing stood out about it. It was just as gray and worn and untouched as the rest of the facility. Not even the dirt was remarkable. It reminded him of the hospital. 

Ohya held the key out to Goro. 

“I’m assuming you want this to be a ‘just you’ kinda thing?” 

The gesture was something he should’ve expected, but didn’t. It made him hesitate for a moment. 

He took the key. “I appreciate it,” he said. 

“No sweat.” 

He got out of her car, and she drove off to the end of the row. She stayed parked within general sight of the unit. It was essentially pseudo privacy, but neither of them knew how long he’d be in there, and who knows what this could trigger. Ohya also didn’t seem like she knew a thing about amnesia. He wouldn’t look to her for comfort of any sort, but there was reassurance in her being a safe figure. 

He took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. This was his step one. He’d gotten himself into some deep shit, his past self hadn’t seemed to have a shred of self preservation in mind. Had he not encountered Ohya, he could’ve been dead by the hands of the crooks that call themselves the police by now. He had a lot more steps to cover, and each one would be riskier than the next. He was much more on his own than he realistically should’ve been. Most people had friends, as far as he knew. But this was seemingly his own fault. He wanted to know why exactly it was his fault. 

One more deep breath. 

He inserted the key into the lock, and grabbed the handle of the metal shutter. He pushed up, and with a squeak of rust and a bang of metal, he opened up his door to more dangerous times. 

And it was nearly empty. 

It was barren concrete. Newly disturbed dust was floating about. It was eerily quiet, and the stale air made his throat itch. Cobwebs stuck in the corners, barely visible in the low light of the setting sun. Though he wouldn’t call it underwhelming. 

In the center of the floor was a cardboard box. About medium sized, without a lid. It matched well with the rest of the room, lined with dust and unaltered. He kneeled in front of it. 

It was its contents that felt much more exciting. There were papers, lots of them. Thick manila envelopes full of information for him to flip through. He scooted back towards the entrance and pulled the box along with, trying to get the last of the light funneling in to help him read. 

It was heavier than he expected, and he didn’t know how much to attribute that to his current lack of strength. He took out the first envelope and it, despite the dust, was clear and candid. When he flipped it around, he noticed with eagerness that there was writing on the front. He tried to make it out as clearly as he could, and in careful handwriting, it read: “05/21/2020— Case No. 1471” 

It was a case file. He pulled out another envelope, and it was similarly marked. His interest was surely piqued. There must’ve been some sort of relevance to these, if they were going to be so pointedly left here. He pulled out a third, and then a fourth, and from the weight he’d expected many more. But, the pile ended there. Instead, what filled the rest of the box was another, smaller, wooden one. 

He took it out delicately, gripping it securely around the sides to ensure he didn’t drop it. This seemed much more… personal. Shiny cherry wood, latched but not locked, just small enough to sit on his lap firmly. A thought that couldn’t help but be excited came to mind. 

This could’ve belonged to me. 

He wasted no time. He undid the latch, and it gave a satisfying click. The hinges creaked just barely as his clammy hands lifted the lid, and pulled all the way back, until it rested hanging by itself. 

Inside sat more papers. Some were crisper than others, some had obviously been crumpled and then flattened out again. But there was consistency in each of them being folded neatly in half, stacked neatly on top of each other. 

He picked up the one from the beginning of the pile, unfolded it, and was surprised to find it had hardly been written on; a simple “To you,” at the top. This was a candidate that had been clearly wadded up and discarded. He set it down carefully, and picked up the next. 

This one hadn’t been written on much, either. It said even less, just “Hello.” 

He picked up another, and another. It was all soft stationary, each topped with slightly different wordings, and some decorated with a couple lines, even. But they were all just about the same, a simple greeting, and then resigning. 

They were letters. Or rather— drafts for one. So he’d learned today that he was indecisive, maybe a bit quick tempered, but potentially also at least organized. He assumed the existence of these drafts meant he’d never gotten around to sending his letter, either. And perhaps he’d never get such a chance, if this visit didn’t convince any muggy memories to creep out of their caves.  

As he pulled out drafts and read his pathetic one-liners, he came across a page that was different. There was actually a fair amount of content on it, over a paragraph's worth. It had obviously also been cast aside, but even a spare scrap could be useful to him, in this state. He used the last of the remaining light to read it. 

“To whom it may concern, 

I would like to skip the inherent shamefulness of writing a letter to you, of all things, in my introduction, and I will title this ambiguously under the assumption that if you believe this does truly not concern you, that you will save me the mortification of reading through it anyways. 

I won’t formally phrase this as a farewell, but you should take it as one. 

Our unknowns are too great to write, and while you were not innocent, neither am I, and there are truths between the two of us that shouldn’t have remained unspoken. I’ve never thought to run from the blame. 

My hands are not clean, and maybe they never will be, but they can still carry you home when you’re ready to sleep. 

Perhaps a fact I recognized too late.

I do not want to say goodbye, however I—“

It cut off. 

The letter left a lump in Goro’s throat. He read it through once more. He wanted to analyze each sentence down to its core, but the light had died out. But there were bits and pieces, words that suck out in his mind. “Farewell,” “Innocent,” “Unspoken.”

“Too late.”

Goro bit down on his lip hard. The case files— those he understood. With the life he’d allegedly lived and the people he’d known, of course something like that would be predominant. They were fact on paper, ignorant of bias, they’d be full of names and leads. They were important. But, he didn’t understand why these almost-letters had been left here. Out of anything that could’ve been kept. Had there been someone he’d felt so strongly for? To be kept in safety behind lock and key? 

To identify this person— that could be his next goal to achieving his memories. To ignite the fire of their eventual reunion, and perhaps they could know what happened to him. They could come easy, though he suspected that anyone who he’d decided to be so rottenly open with wouldn’t be typical. But, they would also know him, past the media, past the appearances. 

And, though he wasn’t going to admit it, he’d needed something more hopeful to work towards. 

He put the papers back where they belonged, placed the entire case back into the cardboard box, and stacked the case files back atop it. 

There was no telling how old these letters were. They could’ve been from much before his incident. But this set him up for a goal, a big one, that might get him back to whatever meager place he’d left himself in. 

He picked up the box, and prepared himself to head back outside to Ohya. He needed to muster up his resolve, because this was only the first out of two very important clues this visit could provide. 

He positioned the box onto his waist, and took one last look into the dark before closing up his unit. He returned to Ohya’s car, pulling open the door without so much as a greeting, and set the box on the floor in front of his seat. 

Ohya leaned forward, interested. “That a box you got?” 

He wasn’t going to talk about the embarrassing letters he found. Even if he wanted to, his second clue came first. “It’s not that important right now,” he lied. “Is your contact still here?” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, but let the topic drop. “Sure is. She can’t leave ‘till we leave.” 

Good. “I need to speak with her.” 

She hummed in reply, seeming very curious by his idea. They drove back up to the entrance, Ohya not questioning his motives, but still giving him an inquiring side eye every so often. 

They got out of the car together this time, and walked into the front office. The woman was reading behind the counter, almost completely in the dark, with only a desk lamp lighting her work area. 

She glanced up at them, and placed her book upside down. “Hey there. You got that key?” 

“Yes,” Goro replied. He placed it lightly on the counter. She took it without a word, and got up to put it back on its hook. Goro stopped her before she turned. “I have a question for you.” 

She seemed a little surprised. She glanced between him and Ohya, and then put her free hand on her hip. “Okay?”

He hoped he could push his luck just a bit further today. He’d made it this far, after all. 

“Is there any way I can see the documentation that was filed when this unit was made?” he asked. 

The woman pursed her lips. “Ohya?” 

Ohya put her hands up defensively. “Don’t look at me. This is all him.” 

The woman stared at Goro. He stared back. This was arguably the most important part of the visit. He needed to see those papers. Just a single particular part, it was the one factor that needed an explanation. He would not leave until he got that documentation, and if he had to stand his ground and pull her leg a bit to get it, he would. 

After their staring contest lasted just a moment too long, she folded her arms. “Jeez. Only because I feel bad for you, okay?” she huffed, turning on her heel. “And because my niece liked your food blog.” 

She disappeared into the back of the office, leaving Goro feeling just a bit full of himself. He would think about the food blog comment later.

Ohya lightly punched his arm. “Okay, good going. But whatcha going to do with that?” 

“There’s something I need to check,” he replied flatly. It made Ohya grunt unenthusiastically. 

The woman returned with a few papers, all paper clipped together. She tossed them onto the counter. “This is a customer copy, okay? So feel free to keep it.” She glared at Ohya. “And, I’m going home now. So, get out, please.” 

That got a laugh out of Ohya. “I know I can always count on you to bend a couple of rules for me.” 

“Out.” 

They left the building, Ohya waving her last goodbyes while Goro rushed to the car. He needed to get some light on these papers, it was long past sundown now. He slid himself into the car, clicked on one of the lights, and went to work reading, all while Ohya was still walking over. 

Ohya opened her door and stood outside watching him, leaning on the frame. First, it was with interest, but it soon turned into irritation.

“Kid, tell me what you’re looking for. You’ve got your eyeballs all over that thing,” she said. 

He didn’t let their conversation stop him from reading. He kept his eyes glued to the page, checking each word and box before moving on. 

He did owe her an explanation. Getting his thoughts out would help him focus a bit, anyway. 

“These sorts of things— storage units. Wouldn't they be paid for recurrently?” 

Ohya went quiet for a moment. “They are,” she said, and joined him in the car. “Shit. Those funds can’t be coming from you, can they.” 

“Exactly. I’m looking for the responsible billing party.” He turned onto the next page. None of the handwriting matched what he’d seen on his papers and files, which further confirmed to him that this unit hadn’t been one he’d purchased himself. Whoever this was had put all that information in there, those cases, those letters. He suspected they weren’t his mystery recipient, but he could confirm that with them once they’d met.

Why this had been done in his name, though, was beyond him. 

He flipped onto the last page, and found his prize. Big black bolded letters asking for the responsible parties name, and neat penmanship filling in the blank. 

“Sae Niijima,” he read aloud. 

Ohya gawked. 

“‘Sae Niijima?’ Seriously?” she scoffed to herself, and sunk down further in her seat. “She’s an attorney. A damn good one, too.” 

An attorney? He wondered how she could’ve known him. “She’s the one paying, apparently.” 

Ohya tapped long slender fingers onto her steering wheel again. She dropped her head. “Guess that means she’s our next lead, huh?” 

Goro adjusted himself in his seat. “It does.” 

“Ahh, man,” she complained. “You’re really somebody who’s in with the big guns, you know. You better let me have some exclusive with you after all this is done, or something.” 

Goro gave way a hint of a smile. Probably his first since he’d woken up. If this would be the last of his luck, so be it. He hated to rely on something so shifty and mischievous, anyways. This was a start, barely a sprout, to whatever his big picture was. But he’d see himself to the very top. 

Really, he’d already died once. Hardly a way to go but up. 

“We’ll see.” 

[cherry3point14]

One Helluva Car

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Minor car fetish, one paragraph of blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smut, a little jealous!Dean, this is crack babes’, I can’t stress this enough: car fetish Word Count: 3,500. Summary: Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world and then one day she sees Baby... A/N: @alexwinchester23​ hit me up a THOUSAND years ago with the prompt: dean x reader where she is more “in love” with deans car and it makes him a little jelly lol. And I was like, ha ha ha sure I’ll write it. It’s been half written ever since. So, I finished it. Someone please be proud of me for finishing. (Not like that you animals.)  This also fills Driving In The Impala for @spndeanbingo​

It’s Monday lunchtime when you see it. Her? It looks like a her. The best cars are ‘hers’ and even from a distance, she has curves that only a good woman could possess.

You’ve had a morning of shitty, old trucks that have been run hard for too long, and new cars that you plug into the computer to diagnose, which takes all the fun out of life. It’s easy to see a mile off that she isn’t shitty or bogged down with modern tech. She’s a well looked after classic. A thing of beauty. A freaking masterpiece. She’s polished enough that the sun bounces off of her black surface like she’s made of glass.

If only your arms weren’t laden with brown paper bags of food you’d take a detour to get a closer look. You could ghost your hand over her hood and take a look at the interior. You bet it’s the softest fucking leather your ass would ever hope to feel.

You’d generally drool over her without actually drooling because God knows spit is not good for the paintwork. Unfortunately, you do have bags filled with hot, meaty subs intended to feed your workforce. And you’re wise enough to know that making a garage of hungry mechanics wait for their lunch is not a good move. It’ll only result in some sort of unnecessary disaster this afternoon that you, their boss, will have to fix or pay for. Or both.

The only thing you can do is take one last look at her, memorize that beautiful shape while you heft the bags closer to your chest and carry on walking. It’s not like you’ve never seen a good old fashion American muscle car before, you have your own ‘70 Mustang at home.

It’s just… this is a Chevvy Impala, arguably the first car to flex its muscles. You don’t see one of those every day.

Your hobby is like a much cooler version of birdwatching. You have an appreciation for cars, classics in particular. The craftsmanship, the design, and the sounds they make as they tear through the world like moving time capsules. Nothing generated by a low emission engine compares.

That’s how you spot her for the second time, on Wednesday.

Well, you hear her first.

You’re closing up for the night. Everyone goes home early on Wednesdays, the shop closes at three, except for you. There’s always paperwork that needs to be done and you hate the idea of taking it home if you can help it. Taking a car home you’re always happy to do, but paperwork? You refuse to dirty your private space like that.

It’s just before six when you’re locking the doors and thunder screams in the distance. At least you think it’s thunder, you wonder where the clouds are until it moves too fast to be a weather condition.

The closer it gets the more the sound transforms into pure, uncut horsepower. It’s the deep rumble of an engine that demands to be heard. It tears your attention to it whether you like it or not. An announcement of the coming vehicle before it arrives.

Then she glides around the corner of Maple and Third before peeling down the street past you. It’s her again, she’s still in town. You know it’s the same car, she isn’t a vehicle made for stealth and your little ol’ town isn’t exactly heaving with beauties like her.

You know she’s not a local, it must be a flying visit, you’re lucky enough to have seen her again before she left. Not just seen her though, heard her. Heard her engine and the screech of her tires on the tarmac. Experiencing her in action is breathtaking enough that you gawp at her like an idiot as she zooms away.

It’s not a fetish or anything. You don’t exactly cuddle an exhaust pipe in bed. You appreciate cars more than your job requires you to, simple. It’s a respect that was drilled into you from a young age. Your dad owns a franchise of shops across the state and never had the boy he always wanted. He didn’t mope about it, he taught you to fix an engine instead. To appreciate every individual piece like an unsolved puzzle. And because your dad is a big ol’ softie he taught you that classic cars can’t be beaten, he favors Camaros in particular. He gave you a garage to work in until you’d labored enough to earn it for keeps and manage it as your own. Your dad raised you to bleed motor oil and sweat gasoline.

Cars are your life. Ok, maybe you’re a bit of a gearhead is all. You can’t help it if that Impala is a fine wine you want to uncork.

You watch the street lights make a hazy path for her to follow, another corner and she’s gone.

At home, you curl up on your sofa and scroll through your usual sites to see how much your own Impala would cost. In good condition, you’d have to sell one of the two cars you already have but there’s this smashed up ‘68 in New Jersey that might be worth the drive for the price. It would basically be a new car by the time you rebuild it but that doesn’t matter. All you needed were the bones of the thing and you never shy away from a project that involves weeks of hunting down original parts, that’s half the fun. For tonight at least it gets bookmarked. The decision left for another day, if it still seems like a good idea in the morning then you’ll make the call.

Hell, maybe tomorrow you’ll see something else and forget all about her. Maybe.

Good looking guys come through town from time to time but Dean is a rare treat. He’s the picture next to ‘handsome’ in the dictionary. He’s got these full lips that you’ve stared at, without an ounce of shame, while he sucks on a beer bottle. A jawline covered in scruff that you’ve already imagined between your thighs. And then there are those hands of his. It could be your line of work but you always loved a man with hands like his. Broad hands and thick fingers. Mechanic hands you’d call them, you half wish they were covered in oil and grease.

He was tapping away on the bar for a while, drumming aimlessly while you drank, but now he’s toppled in your direction. He’s standing between his barstool and yours, while you're still seated, which makes you the perfect height for him to slip an arm around you. His thumb has settled in on tracing the edge of your jeans while he talks to you, tickling your back where your tank had ridden up.

Honestly? He doesn’t even need to be a good lay to be worth the trip to bed.

“I know you said you’re in town with your brother…”

He winces at the start of your sentence, “with the things I’m thinking about doing to you honey, you can’t go mentioning Sammy at the same time.”

Underneath the stained overalls, you’re still a woman and you’re not sure if there’s anyone alive who could resist Dean’s charms. When you laugh at his ridiculous propositioning, you don’t even try to fight when it tails off into a giggle.

“I was going to ask if you had your own room? Or are we going back to my place?”

You’d almost think he’d been playing it cool up until this point. Everything had been measured and smooth. But you ask him that and he finally cracks, urgency slips through that charm offensive. He tilts his head forward as his face hardens into something intense, eyes hooded under the light of the bar. His hand slides up underneath your top enough that his whole palm skates against your skin. “How about a compromise? My car, your place?”

You lean in until you’re almost touching his lips, your tongue peeks out to wet them and flicks against his, taunting. “Deal."

He doesn’t need to know that you walked here and needed a ride home anyway. That's irrelevant.

Stumbling out of the bar is messy. Not because of the alcohol, neither of you have drunk that much, it’s his hands on your waist. They’re possessive and so there.

Maybe he’s not so bad in bed. Maybe he’s actually, pretty good in…

Oh fuck. It’s her.

You’re stopped in your tracks by the sight of your very own white whale. Well, black and shiny Impala but the metaphor stands.

You stop and Dean bumps into you, not expecting it so soon. For a brief moment, you’re frozen in awe, reverence. Even in the dark, she’s perfect. Street lights bouncing off of her smooth exterior. The night is chilly and there’s a hint of condensation creeping around the edges of the windshield which only serves to make her sparkle.

“Wow, she’s-”

“Mine?” Dean finishes, a wry grin on his face and keys dangling from those fingers you’d been drooling over moments ago. Fuck him and his fingers now.

“Shit, Dean. I’ve been seeing this car all week. She’s beautiful.” You walk towards her, carefully, in case you spook her. She’s an old soul, probably jumpy. Your hand reaches out but doesn’t touch her yet because you’re being respectful.

You’d have thought Dean might have appreciated your care. Instead, he laughs and it catches you off guard. You whip your head back around to glare at him and he encourages you, “she won't bite.”

When you finally make contact she’s cool and glossy under your touch, but even so, you don’t run your hand over her like you want to. You can feel the waxed surface that you don’t want to ruin. You know how much effort goes into a good wax job like this. Instead, you trade your whole hand for your fingertips and trace her edges as if trying to remember her shape for when you rebuild your own.

“Ahem.” In the distance, Dean clears his throat. Sucks for him. You’ve got a new love interest.

“Sweetheart?” He asks again, stepping up closer to you as if you didn’t hear him. He sounds needy like he wants you, but it’s edged with this vulnerable envy. You already noticed his bright green eyes in the bar, now you're wondering if there’s a different green-eyed monster at play.

He needs to understand, you saw the car first. She’s held your heart all week, Dean piqued the interest of your lady parts about half an hour ago. You might say age before beauty but this Impala has Dean beat on both fronts, older and more beautiful.

“Where’d you get these rims, if I didn’t know better I’d almost say they’re original,” you spare him a glance over your shoulder. “But I do know better.”

He looks like he’s struggling with not having your full attention, you’d almost say he’s pouting. Then he sticks out his bottom lip and he's definitely pouting. He shuffles from foot to foot and steels his jaw. It makes it even more difficult for him then when you ask questions that he wants to answer. You can see the cogs turning where he’s trying to work out if he should encourage your interest or not. As much as he wants sex, in the end, the gearhead wins out.

“Fixed her up a lot over the years, found those in a junkyard if you believe it.” He steps up next to you now with a proud smile.

“I can believe it. I’ve seen the stuff people throw away. They’re perfect. Can I?” You slide out your phone and wave it at him.

He nods, although a little dumbstruck.

You bend down and snap a picture, explaining. “I was looking at a sixty-eight to rebuild, maybe. Actually, yours gave me the idea, saw her and couldn’t get her out of my head. I have a friend who might be able to help me out with these.”

“You wanna build one?” He sounds interested but not enough to get him off track. The track being you.

“Yeah. I told you I’m a mechanic. Building these things is in my blood.”

The air is cool and you start to feel it, not having intended being outside this long. He sees you shiver and steps behind you running his hands up and down your arms. “Sixty-eight ain’t a sixty-seven though, is it?” He asks, voice dripping with cocky arrogance about his car.

Oh, fuck. He’s figured out the way to your heart. He’s got you all turned around and leaning against her. Back pressed against her metal and glass enough that you’ll be feeling her for weeks.

“No, it’s not…”

“Wanna ride my Baby?” Dean presses his lips to the corner of your mouth with the question, leaving enough space for you to let out an almost inaudible gasp.

You’d be inclined to say men name their cars the dumbest shit sometimes but ‘Baby’ fits somehow. It’s perfect. She’s Baby.

“Yeah,” you nod. Right now, it's all you’ve ever wanted.

He walks you to the passenger’s side door and opens it’s for you. It’s not even romantic, it’s a fucking turn on.

Maybe you do have a car fetish. You should probably figure that out, like, another day.

In the time it takes Dean to strut to the other side you have sunk into the leather and just as you imagined, it’s soft. Worn and loved, like everything else about this beauty. This is what’s makes her special and that’s why you would have to love your own extra hard. To make up the years of neglect.

“Ready to go?”

He’s looking at you, smirking in your peripheral, and you’re looking at his fingers on the keys. You know what’s going to happen when he turns them. You’re still not prepared.

“Let’s do it.” A grin slides onto your face.

She rumbles to life beneath you. The vibrations from her engine shudder through the seat straight to your core. From there you swear the horsepower zips to every nerve ending in your body like electricity powering a city. And the sound could strike you down. She somehow purrs and roars at the same time. Each rev is a scream but her engine sings between each turn.

“Two eighty-three?” You ask, bottom lip caught behind your teeth.

“Get out of here with that two eighty-three crap. She’s a three twenty-seven.” He snaps, but not really, pressing his foot on the gas again just to see you quiver. Another rotation of the engine, her power, rolls through you.

He pulls out onto the road, leaving the dive behind, and drifts a little as he does, the back of her floating into the road. You slide over the seat an inch and he’s half focused on you, half focused on driving, so you're not even sure if he planned it. You scoot closer to him and he weighs his arm, the one not currently steering, around your shoulders. You’re becoming increasingly aware that the car smells like him, or he smells like her. Leather, sweet and spicy, musky. It’s a complicated mix where you’re not sure whether it's more her or him. You want to wrap yourself up in it all the same but Baby can’t wrap you up, Dean can.

“Dean I… Next left… I really, really love this car.”

He licks his lips as he looks down at you, his pupils wide, probably has a clear view of your chest, “yeah? How much, sweetheart?”

“A lot.” You pant in his ear, teeth grazing his lobe. “Second right, then it’s the third house on the left.”

A growl comes out of him. Determined. And you’re not so sure you care about fucking Dean anymore but each time you work him up a little higher, he revs that gorgeous engine and you get to feel that thunder. It’s the best circle jerk you could imagine, everyone is truly happy.

He pulls up in front of your house in record time because Baby is gunning 285 horsepower, so she’s not exactly going to be beat.

The problem, that you hadn’t really planned on, is arriving at your destination. As soon as he cuts the engine you puncture. Missing the everything about her straight away and wishing you’d kept driving for hours. Still, you have the scent of leather everywhere, burdening your senses with the smell of a bygone era. You hike a leg over Dean and sit in his lap. A knee either side of his thighs, denting her seats and Baby’s steering wheel holding the curve of your ass. Your hands skip Deans’ shoulders in favor of the seat behind him, the cushioned bench under the pads of your fingers, as you attach your mouth to his. Sandwiched between Baby and Dean, and you never want to leave the spot.

Your tongue curls into his mouth at the same time that he presses his fingers into your hips so tight you’re sure there’ll be bruises. You’ve never worried about a tight grip on you before but he starts pulling you towards him and away from where you’re wedged on Baby. The more you lean your body into Dean, the less you feel his car.

“Baby.” You murmur into him. Dean must mistake it to be a pet name you’re borrowing, calling him, because he pulls you again. Actually you’re telling him where you want to be, to stay.

Here. With Baby.

“This is a nice neighborhood.” He hums in this tone that’s deep but it doesn’t go through you like the sound of a turbo V-8. “We should take this inside.”

He’s right. Carl from the damn neighborhood watch is probably already doing just that, watching. The pervert.

“Right, sure.” You agree despite the way your stomach drops at the thought of leaving her.

You’re all untangling limbs getting out and he kisses you once more against Baby before you allow him to drag you away. It already feels different, normal, boring.

Dean’s fine, he’s good, he’s handy. Like you’d thought he would be.

You wrap your mouth around his dick because you’ve always liked looking up through your lashes and seeing the way a guy goes breathless on your tongue. He works you open on his thick fucking fingers until the pressure in your stomach snaps with his thumb circling your clit. He pushes into you and the stretch, the burn, is perfect. Dean is better in bed than you’d expected him to be.

And yet, it’s empty. Dulled. It doesn’t scratch the itch like good sex used to. The whole experience dampened compared to what you’d felt sitting in the front seat of his 1967 Chevy Impala.

You slip on some oversized shirt from your floordrobe to walk him out when he leaves. Neither of you under any impression that he’s staying the night. He’s got this satisfied grin on his face that he hasn’t been able to wipe off since the first time he came. He stops at your doorstep, “thanks, sweetheart. This was fun.”

“Sure was,” you agree, not giving him the full story. Standing at your doorway you’re looking at Baby instead of Dean, again. “Let me know if you’re still in town tomorrow, I’d love to go for another ride.”

He nods and backs away a few steps until he’s in your line of sight along with his car, “will do, baby.”

He must think you mean sex. You wouldn't be opposed to it but you mean a drive. A real drive with wide roads, and opening the taps. You can break that to him tomorrow if he does give you that call. If he doesn't then there's only one thing you need to say before he leaves. One thing you can't let her leave without saying.

“One helluva car you got there, Dean.”

Second A/N: Look, this didn’t start out as a full on car fetish but I was writing it and SOMETIMES I HAVE NO CONTROL. Sometimes these characters they say, “fuck you!” and do what they want. I was going to write a nice little jealousy thing. Dean wants some attention. That’s all. You only have yourselves to blame readers!

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 @jesseswartzwelder Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer @iamabeautifulperson18 @erins-culinary-service

[halothenthehorns]

TLTNL- SEEN AND UNFORSEEN

Sirius easily caught the book and began thumbing through pages, muttering this would have been far easier if his twat of a friend would just hand it to him rather than losing his place every time. James ignored this and went to retrieve his son from Remus, quickly stepping out to change his diaper in the slight delay and then nestling back next to his wife with their child between them as Sirius started with residual triumph for Harry's finally able to speak out like he did.

Luna said that Harry might have to wait for the next issue for his article to be published, as her daddy was expecting an expose on the Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

"It's good to know I'm not everybody's top priority," Harry said indulgently. He may have a good feeling about that paper, but he still wasn't sure how much good it would do, so best to put it out of his mind for now.

The whole experience hadn't been easy for Harry, as Rita had demanded every detail Harry could remember.

Lily huffed in agitation that vile woman was pressing her son for those details, hating the irony that Skeeter had finally gotten her exclusive article she'd always wanted, but at least happy enough Harry was on board with this one.

Knowing this was his chance to speak out, he'd given everything he was asked, but still wondered if anyone would believe it. Yet the breakout of Azkaban left Harry with a burning desire to do something!

At dinner, Dean overheard what Harry would be doing and said he couldn't wait to see what Umbridge would do when she found out. Seamus was on his friends other side and apparently ignoring them, but Harry could tell he was listening.

"Guess it's better than calling you a nutter again," James frowned at this continuation, clearly the Death Eater breakout hadn't been good enough to push someone who should know Harry on some level back into reason.

  Neville agreed it was the right thing to do, people should be made aware Voldemort was out there, what his Death Eaters could do. Harry caught Seamus' eyes, but the other quickly looked back down at his plate.

"You think Dean's secretly helping Seamus with all the spells he's learning from the DA?" James asked.

"Well I'm sure Dean hasn't exactly told where he's learned them from," Sirius reminded of Hermione's little spell with a proud smirk, "but I wouldn't be surprised either."

His dorm mates left not much later, but Harry stuck around waiting for Ron's Quidditch practice to be over.

Remus let out a low whistle of surprise for such a long running practice, his two friends looking far more disappointed they hadn't gotten to hear about that instead of two-thirds of that Hogsmeade visit.

Cho was spotted first, coming in with her friend Marietta. Hermione saw this and asked why he'd shown up so early before without her?

"At least Hermione can talk you through it," Lily told him, glad that her son had seemed to follow their commentary well enough, but it would still be even better if someone had explained this to him in his time.

"I'd rather just never speak of it again," Harry grumbled.

Harry stated it was a complete fiasco.

"Well I'm glad you're chatting with her about this," James smirked, "far more than I ever got, you've now experienced Sirius' advice first hand."

"Hey!" Sirius yelped, "it's not my fault the woman's the most stubborn creature at school." Sirius clearly repeated an old statement.

Lily raised a brow at him, before looking at a suddenly uncomfortable James, and asked, "exactly how many of your blasted attempts were of his doing?"

James had the grace to fail to answer that, Remus was laughing too hard to answer, and Sirius kept going loudly so he wouldn't have to.

He explained the whole instance, ending with her storming out, and asked of her what on earth had been going on?

Hermione told Harry he was tactless.

"Hey!" Harry spluttered, now much preferring his mum's words.

Lily was still watching James critically, and he was happily ignoring her look by playing with his son's fingers.

Harry was outraged that was her conclusion. They'd been having a nice chat until she'd brought up Roger Davies, and then it had all gotten out of hand.

Hermione began to patiently explain as if to an over-emotional toddler,

All three boys got a chuckle out of that, though none of this was improving Harry's mood at the lot of them ganging up on him in past and present.

that he shouldn't have mentioned her halfway through his date.

Harry spluttered in protest Hermione had asked him to, how was he supposed to bring Cho along without telling her?

Hermione said he should have phrased it differently, still with that maddeningly patient air.

Lily was smothering her own laughter now, finally distracted from eyeing James. Hermione, with her two male best friends, should know better than anyone what if felt like to explain these things to them.

He should have made it seem like a drag Harry had to do this, he'd much rather spend all his time with Cho, but Hermione really had made him swear so he now had an obligation and to really make her feel as if she was more important by pleading with her to come along. It would have helped if he'd also mentioned how ugly Harry found Hermione.

"That is so unnecessary," Remus stated as he eyed Lily, "I'm sure she'd find it just as insulting his pandering to her need."

Lily just shrugged. She wasn't going to try speaking for Cho. She was privy to knowing what Harry had meant and so understood her son's position better than Cho likely had. Plus she'd never had much insecurity in the man in her life, he'd never been secretive about his intentions. Yet at the same time, it was clear she was the only one in here who understood why Hermione had said it that way, it would have helped soothe Cho more than what Harry actually did.

Harry's only response to that was to say he didn't find Hermione ugly.

"At least I could have told you that wouldn't have been helpful in the face of Cho," Sirius offered.

"Thank you Padfoot, I think I could have worked that one out," Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione just laughed, saying he was as bad as Ron, or perhaps not she amended with a sigh,

All five of them couldn't help a soft snort of amusement at Hermione suffering her own plight of love.

as Ron himself came stomping into the Hall splattered with mud and looking grumpy.

"I'm guessing practice didn't go well," Remus said conversationally.

"I still can't imagine coming away from a practice in such a bad mood," James stated, his tone enough to state the idea was lost on him. "Quidditch is how you relieve stress."

Hermione continued explaining for Harry that Cho was trying to make him jealous after he'd bought Hermione up, it was her way of seeing who Harry liked more.

Harry protested why couldn't she have just said that? Ron clearly wasn't joining in the conversation just yet as he sat down on the bench and began pulling every plate towards him.

"Dessert for dinner, that's got to be some consolation," Sirius chuckled.

Hermione just said it wasn't common for girls to be asking that.

"I love my wife," James needlessly declared as he grinned at her.

"I've never asked anything like this of you," Lily rolled her eyes at him.

"I know," he smirked as she made his point.

Harry said they should! He could have just told her he fancied her, instead of her bringing up Cedric again!

Hermione agreed it hadn't been sensible, but she was just trying to help Harry understand how Cho had been feeling.

Harry just muttered something about he wasn't looking forward to a repeat, or if he had to, maybe he could sneak Hermione along under the cloak so it wouldn't go as bad again, or maybe Ginny if she'd help him out in trade of getting her out of a Quidditch practice she so clearly hadn't wanted to be in...

Ron told Hermione she should write a book, translating things girls did so boys could understand them.

"That would be a bestseller," Sirius agreed.

"I love Ron just automatically took to the important part of that conversation," Remus snickered.

Harry agreed at once, but as Ginny joined decided to change the subject and asked how practice had gone?

Both said it was a disaster, Ginny stating Angelina was nearly in tears by the end.

"That poor girl," James said with honest sympathy. He'd been lucky to have such a fantastic team his final year, yet every time Angelina turned something happened to hers this year.

The two ate quickly without much more detail and then vanished to clean themselves up, Harry and Hermione finally going back to the common room to start some homework. They were interrupted by the twins showing up, asking if their younger siblings were around yet? When confirmed they weren't, they decided to share more details, having looked in on the practice, and stating what rubbish the team was.

Lily struggled to hold back a new wave of pig headed comments about the new mischief makers of this school, her restraint not helped at all by the sympathetic look growing on James.

George did defend Ginny wasn't bad, an oddity as none of them had ever let her play.

Hermione inserted this was because she'd been stealing their brooms since she was six and practicing on her own.

"Ginny keeps getting better with every mentioning," Remus chuckled.

"Absolutely better than the little fangirl," Harry agreed full heartedly, even if he did look back on that with far more humor than he would have thought.

George now looked impressed as he said that explained things.

"He's so casual about having his stuff being nicked," Sirius grinned as well even if he knew he'd have gone off on Regulus for doing the same.

Hermione tried her hardest not to look up from her work as she asked if Ron had saved one goal?

Fred rolled his eyes as he stated he was quite good when he thought no one was watching. Therefore all they had to do at the next match was have the whole crowd turn their back when the ball was at his end of the pitch.

All four boys groaned and shifted restlessly, James wishing more and more someone would offer Ron some actual helpful advice rather than just complaining about the problem.

Then Fred shifted restlessly as he looked out the window, saying Quidditch had been the only thing this place had been worth staying for.

"That was true several months ago now," Sirius scoffed, "I've no clue why they stuck around after what Umbridge pulled, I haven't heard a lick of revenge from them about it."

"Sirius," Lily said in exasperation. "They've been at it this long, even if they don't care about the grades they may as well finish school by this point they're so close."

"I thought the reason they hadn't bailed was because they didn't want their mum to have more worries," Remus reminded. "That's hardly gone away, if not worse with their fathers recent injury."

Sirius turned back to the book in hopes the twins would give some better answer.

Hermione looked sternly at them as she reminded of their exams.

Harry burst out laughing that the closest thing to have crossed their minds in here was his mother's words, and even she hadn't seemed that concerned about it.

Fred scoffed they were not worried about that one bit. Their Snackboxes were now good to go, Lee had turned them onto this essence of Murtlap and that had cured the boils.

James gave a loud applause at his son yet again helping out the twins, this time even unintentionally! Sirius though cracked up even harder as he realized it was Hermione who'd been the pin in this one, and wondered if anyone ever realized the connection.

"I want to know what possessed them to put that in what they eat," Lily crinkled her nose.

"A bit brilliant though," Remus grinned, "considering the essence is to help ease sore skin, and I can't think of a place they were more sore. If they'd put it on those boils, and realized it made them go away, then the next step would be adding it to their batch."

Lily narrowed her eyes with worry in here that this idea clearly didn't bother a single one of them, there was a reason she cooked in this house.

George kept on point and stated he didn't even want to go to the match this weekend, he'd kill himself if he saw Zacharias won.

"Kill him more like!" James scolded.

Fred corrected kill him instead.

Sirius whooped with laughter and James even joined in that time with glee.

Hermione said this was the whole trouble with Quidditch, it created too much bad blood between houses.

The boys looked properly scandalized at this, but Lily defended Hermione on this one. "I may not like the sport much either, but I think a few things could be altered to make it more bearable for those who aren't obsessed with it."

"Like?" James challenged, clearly already convinced she could offer nothing for this.

"What if, instead of pinning the house teams against each other, any person from any house could be on four separate teams? Captains would still be chosen one from each house, and you'd have to create some structure for how each team got players so that nothing too dirty could be abused during selections, but it would do even more good to support a school unity rather than having another way for them to compete against each other. We already have the House Cup for that."

Her speculation ended there, for now, but she looked around and grinned further when she saw none of the boys were immediately dispelling the idea.

Sirius scrutinized her for an extra minute, but failing to come up with an argument against that, continued for now.

She looked up in the silence to see all those around her looking at her with incredulity.

"Well she did say that to the three players who'd been booted off the team for something entirely not their fault," Sirius defended.

Hermione insisted it did, it was only a game.

James opened and closed his mouth in outrage, and Harry was quite thankful his friend wasn't here now, or she may have gotten her ear chewed off.

Then she snapped at least her happiness wasn't dependent on Ron's goalkeeping ability.

Remus inhaled through his teeth as he watched his friends blanch at that spurn even through the book.

Harry would rather have jumped off the Astronomy Tower than admit it to her, but by the time he had watched the game the following Saturday he would have given any number of Galleons not to care about Quidditch either.

"I blame this on your father," Lily told him.

"It's half Ron's fault," Remus said fairly, "he got Harry into the details of it."

"No," James shook his head to try and distract himself from his own disappointment, "I take full responsibility for this."

The nicest thing to be said, it was short. It was debatable what was worse in the twenty-two minutes, Ron's fourteenth failed saves, Sloper hitting himself with the bat instead of the Bludger, or Kirke actually falling off his broom in surprise after Zacharia had startled him.

"I'm going with that last one," Sirius said critically.

"I'm crying on the inside just hearing about it," James moaned at the display.

Ginny was the only saving grace, managing to make their team only lose by ten points, as she'd caught the Snitch under the other Seekers nose, the final score coming out two hundred and forty to two hundred and thirty, Hufflepuff.

All four boys simultaneously groaned at the idea so many goals had been made, but tried to cheer slightly Ginny had pulled that off! Harry in particular found it a novelty at all to be watching a game from his school and with his disappointment still had far more fun watching Ginny play his usual position than he would have thought.

That evening Harry at least congratulated Ginny on her catch, which went unnoticed in the common room which resembled a particularly dismal funeral.

"I can easily imagine," James hung his head in agreement, he couldn't claim his team had won every game either.

Ginny just said she was lucky, Summerby sneezed at the right moment.

"She shouldn't downplay her own win," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Like you would have done," Sirius snorted, which Harry failed to answer.

Then she changed to saying when Harry was back on the team-

Harry corrected he had a lifelong band.

Ginny corrected right back only so long as Umbridge was here,

"How did you need her to remind you of that," James shivered, "it's the only thing getting me through these."

"Really James? The only thing eh?" Lily demanded of him.

He denied answer, even if he wouldn't take his comment back.

and once Harry was back, she'd go try out for Chaser. Angelina and Alicia were leaving after this year, and she preferred goals to Seeking.

Harry had a very bemused smile in place the others all put down to him trying not to remember something about whether this happened or not.

Harry had nothing to say to that and instead glanced to where Ron was sitting all by himself. Ginny whispered Angelina still wouldn't let him resign, she knew he had it in him.

"Credit to her then," James agreed with enthusiasm, though Remus shook his head in a bit of pity as well, at some point that must feel as much like a punishment as encouragement.

Harry liked Angelina for her faith, but at this point may have found it kinder, especially after the pitch had yet again been filled with another chorus of Weasley is our King.

"I can't wrap my head around the fact that somehow banning the teachers from virtually talking to the students was okay, but not this song!" Lily seethed.

Fred and George wandered over again, Fred saying he didn't even have the heart to take the mickey out of his kid brother yet.

"It's really no fun if they're so despondent they won't react," Sirius agreed, Lily scrunching up her face at him as she thought he was entirely missing the point of not picking on someone when they were down.

Though it was tempting after that last one, then he mimed doing a doggy paddle in mid air as demonstration for Ron's abilities, but when no one looked around, decided to save that for parties.

"I'm sure he appreciates your restraint," Remus said deadpan, while Harry felt a nasty prickling feeling wondering why he couldn't remember Fred doing that again.

Ron took himself up to bed not long later, and Harry waited a few moments so he could pretend to be asleep.

"There's a proper mate," Remus said in understanding, before unbidden the idea of which one of his friends were more like that, and it wasn't the two in the room. He blasted that idea away quickly before it could poison more of his life.

When Harry went up there as well, he was snoring just a little too loudly to be believed, but Harry let him be as he sank into his own bed, still thinking about the game. If only he hadn't been banned, he may have been able to save his team some grace, he'd seen the Snitch fluttering by Kirke's ankle five minutes before Ginny had caught sight of it.

"He really is getting as conceited as you, at least about this sport," Lily snipped at her husband, before properly scolding Harry, "you don't know what you would have done in that moment as well, you've hesitated over the Snitch before so the other Seeker wouldn't come in as well. You might not have even seen it from where you were, you were in a different angle in the stands."

Harry did look a bit abashed at his moment, he'd never want to undermine what Ginny had done.

Umbridge had been sitting a few rows below Harry and Hermione.

"And we snuck down and pitched her head first to the ground below. After setting a teacher on fire, this was nothing!" Sirius kept going with absolute conviction as if reading.

"Technically Hermione did that," Harry pouted, "and you're never going to let that one go, are you?"

"No," all four said at once.

Harry shook his head at all of them before continuing to address Sirius, "and you know perfectly well there was no such thing said in there, even Dumbledore couldn't stop me from getting Cruicio'd by her if we'd tried-" he abruptly stopped, as if his tongue had rolled into his head and he'd had no other choice from the sting of his mind warning him further.

Sirius ignored where Harry had stopped and kept going with a mutter of wishes.

Once or twice she had turned squatly in her seat to look at him, her wide toad's mouth stretched in what he thought had been a gloating smile.

"Oh yes, because that's so much better than what I said," Sirius snarled in outrage, wanting nothing more than to sick a wild dog on her already and make this problem go away.

The memory left him raging with anger, and it took him several extra moment to remember he was supposed to be emptying his mind for his Occlumency practice.

"Have you once managed to do that?" Lily asked, an edge of fear trying to push out her exasperation.

Harry denied answering, which was answer enough.

He tried to do so, but his anger only managed to double and now he couldn't push past his hate for both teachers.

"I know that's what puts me to sleep every night," Sirius agreed with a smirk.

When he did nod off, he started with a dream about Neville dancing with Sprout in the Room of Requirements while McGonagall played the bagpipes.

"There's something really interesting in there," Remus said with a raised brow.

"Yeah, how come you didn't mention her wearing a kilt along with those?" James smirked.

"I thought only blokes wore kilts?" Sirius corrected.

"It was the first Scottish thing that came to mind," he shrugged, "that and potatoes."

"It was a dream!" Harry protested this conversation before it could go further.

They frowned at him for ruining their fun, but since McGonagall wasn't here as their foil, nor would they possibly have even dragged it out this far if she had been, he let it go.

He watched for a while before deciding to find the rest of the DA, but when he exited the room he found himself once again in the long dark corridor with a locked black door.

Harry made a guttural noise of frustration at being reminded of this again! Days weren't even passing in here, he wasn't even having the frequent dream as his memory returned except the two times so far, but as often as it was mentioned he may as well be.

For the first time, there was a crack around one edge, a hint of blue light creeping out. He moved forward, reaching his hand out to push it open no matter how futilely, but then Ron gave a rasping, genuine snore and Harry awoke in his room, with his arm outstretched to something miles away.

Sirius couldn't deny he'd had a rising sense of interest at this new alteration to the dream, but it also made him quiver with unease just as much.

He glanced up at Harry shivering at his side, there was some unreadable look on his face Sirius was more convinced than ever he didn't really want to know.

Remus either didn't notice, or as usual was muttering for himself and didn't seem to realize others could hear. "Well this can't be good, sounded like Voldemort's getting closer to whatever this thing is."

Sirius gave a heavy sigh in agreement before continuing loudly.

Breakfast the next morning started as usual, everyone else receiving their owl mail while Harry poured himself some juice, but then an owl landed in front of him. Considering he'd received all of one letter this year, he was sure this must be a mistake.

Sirius tried his best to hide his anger at this being true. He couldn't believe he was scared away from communicating with Harry! He'd even offered his pup another solution and the little birk had denied that out of some skewed idea he was protecting him! He wasn't even sure himself what it had been, but for Harry to clearly have just forgotten about it and not even bothered to check was maddening! He continued reading with far more hostility than a bit of mail should have offered.

He even checked the address on it, but the recipient was clear as day. Before he had time to react, half a dozen more arrived.

"This isn't like what happened to Hermione last year is it?" Lily asked in concern, remembering the amounts of hate mail the poor dear got.

"Luna said the article wasn't even out yet for him to be getting any," Remus disagreed, though now Sirius felt even more justified in his haste of reading.

The whole hall was watching in confusion at the flock of birds trying to surround Harry, but Hermione reacted first in digging one in particular out with a long, cylindrical partial tied to its leg and said Harry should look at this one first. When he unwrapped it, he found a copy of The Quibbler, with his own picture on front with the title declaring Potter Speaks Out: The Truth about You-Know-Who.

"Luna jumped ahead of schedule," James said with glee.

"Still not sure if I'm a fan of the rest of this showing up," Sirius said grumpily, eyeing the rest of the text with worry. If anyone had sent his godson a cursed letter, that meant Umbridge had let that through her screening of Harry's mail, and that wasn't going to go over well.

Luna appeared, shoving her way onto the bench near him so she could say her dad had got it out yesterday and sent Harry a free copy, she supposed all of these were letters from those who'd read it.

Hermione asked if they could go through them, and Harry bemusedly told them to help themselves.

"That's a better reaction than you usually have to getting attention," Lily chuckled.

Ron found one that was from a guy telling Harry he was off his rocker, while Hermione read out one detailing how Harry should be put in St. Mungo's for shock therapy.

Remus scrunched up his face in agitation for that particular suggestion, Harry was tortured enough thank you.

Harry found one that actually concluded in someone agreeing, and believing Harry.

Fred had one that said he couldn't decide what to think, and declared it a waste of parchment.

"Everybody wants to put their opinion out there, even if it isn't an actual opinion," Sirius said in an attempt at Remus' wise voice.

Remus rolled his eyes for his friend.

Hermione managed to find at least three more of people who Harry had convinced!

Ron found one from a woman who Harry had converted, and she'd sent a picture, he trailed off with a wow.

"Err," James said with concerned curiosity.

"I never got to see the picture," Harry answered with that bemused expression lingering in here, so he had no clue if Ron's reaction was to be a good thing or bad for that.

Inserting her girlish voice into their conversation, Umbridge arrived to demand to know what was going on.

"He sent out a request for toad repellent, he still didn't get enough," Remus said with a straight face.

Fred demanded if getting mail was a crime now?

Umbridge told him to watch his tongue or she'd start issuing detentions.

Lily bite down so hard on her tongue from shouting out in frustration for the grounds of this her eyes began welling up in pain. She could never stand the idea of that woman anywhere near Harry, never mind the casual way she dished out torture and no on in that school had done a thing to stop it!

Harry tossed his issue of The Quibbler at her for explanation, and then quickly looked to the staff table to see Dumbledore. He'd felt for a moment his headmaster was watching him, but for now it looked as if he was talking deeply to Flitwick.

"I've yet seen your instincts fail you," Remus said blandly, "so I wouldn't be surprised if you were right." It made none of them feel better this treatment was being continued as casually as Umbridge's.

Umbridge was gazing flabbergasted at the article, demanding what he meant by this interview?

Harry responded a reporter had asked him questions and he'd answered them.

Sirius let out a triumphant bark of laughter, everyone else getting a giggle out of that as well.

Her voice growing higher with anger, she asked of him when this had taken place?

Harry said his last Hogsmeade trip.

Her response to this was to ban him from further visits.

The three Marauders blanched in further outrage from that pond scum. The detentions were still worse, but if there was one thing she could do to strike them hardest, it was ban them from their home turf. She grew luckier by the page they weren't there in person to teach her a thing or two about how she was treating their boy.

Then began hissing how he dared!

"Yes, how dare he have a voice in saying what happened to him that doesn't conform to you," James said dangerously, that smile still in place turning eerie as he thought of yet more curses he planned on using on her someday soon.

Then she decided her message had not yet received, and took fifty points away from Gryffindor as well as another week of detentions.

Harry let out a low whistle even if his face was bland while he stated, "whoever would have imagined Umbridge would do me a favor in getting me out of an Occlumency lesson."

"This isn't funny Harry," James said flatly, his voice flat and his eyes flashing.

Harry raised his hands in surrender at once, wincing and regretting trying to make it funny even if in his own head he was still weighing the two on levels of awful and couldn't quite decide which was worse.

She stalked away with the magazine still in hand, and by midday had issued a new decree that anyone caught with this would be expelled.

Lily felt her mouth flop open in true resignation of the stupidity of these. How did they manage to keep getting more ridiculous with every one?!

The boys were so sick of these being made up on the spot and being passed as actual laws they'd even run out of insults for them, something they wouldn't have believed possible before.

For some reason, every time Hermione caught sight of one of these signs she beamed with pleasure.

"What do you mean, for some reason?" Remus asked Harry, he found the woman's own idiocy almost brilliant.

"Everyone already thinks I'm a nutter, and just cause I said something in a paper wouldn't really change that," Harry said, his spirits clearly hadn't kept hold of that warmth pushing back at the Ministry this had originally given him. "Now there's no way anyone's going to risk getting expelled just to hear my account of being a madman even more."

"Oh Harry," Sirius chuckled, while James shook his head affectionately. "You have no idea what Umbridge just did."

Harry continued to just look around at them, but Sirius kept going before Lily could explain like she was clearly fixing to.

Harry asked what had her in such a good mood, and Hermione explained that if there was one thing Umbridge could have done to make sure every single person read that, it was banning it.

Harry still didn't seem to get it, and was opening his mouth to interrupt again to say so, so Lily did state, "remember back to your first week, how you suspected everyone was talking about your first detention in hopes you'd start shouting at them as well?"

He didn't have to think long before the realization hit, and he nodded as she finished, "they do want to hear you, it's far easier to form an opinion of a first hand account rather than what Dumbledore said. I'm not promising it will change everyone's minds, but those letters you were sent was the perfect example of how this will put things inside school as well."

Harry suddenly turned eagerly back to Sirius now, hope finally filtering through every bit of him! Umbridge had managed to take away yet one more thing about school he loved, now he had managed to circle back around to being banned from Hogsmeade again. In return, she may have gifted him with his best weapon yet in spreading his story for him.

Hermione's statement turned out to be very true. They could no longer walk down the corridor without hearing people talking about the article, but not a corner of The Quibbler ever came into sight. Hermione even said the girls restroom was filled with telling each other about it.

"There's evidence as if we needed it," Sirius snickered.

Then the occupants had spotted Hermione and knew she knew Harry, and they'd bombarded her with questions, and they all seemed convinced of him now.

It was amazing to finally see him smiling in here, practically glowing. The idea of what he'd been put through this year had weighed on him for so long they'd hardly been able to recognize it until it was being lifted away before their eyes. Finally, something had gone right for Harry, and no one, not even Umbridge was taking that away.

Meanwhile, Professor Umbridge was stalking the school, stopping students at random and demanding that they turn out their books and pockets: Harry knew she was looking for copies of The Quibbler, but the students were several steps ahead of her.

All four of them already had that flippant smile set in place, one Harry had grown to associate with their idea they'd never be caught by the teachers of that school. The lot of them weren't long from their own teen years and hiding things from anyone and everyone, and they couldn't wait to see how others were doing the same.

The pages carrying Harry's interview had been bewitched to resemble extracts from textbooks if anyone but themselves read it, or else wiped magically blank until they wanted to pursue it again.

"Passable," Sirius said reasonably.

"Sometimes subtler can be safest," Remus shrugged.

Soon it seemed that every single person in the school had read it. The teachers were of course forbidden from mentioning the interview by Educational Decree Number Twenty- six,

"I never thought the idiocy of that one could be passed, could I please stop being proven wrong," James rolled his eyes.

but they found ways to express their feelings about it all the same. Professor Sprout awarded Gryffindor twenty points when Harry passed her a watering can;

"My favorite thing that teacher's ever done," Sirius chuckled.

a beaming Professor Flitwick pressed a box of squeaking sugar mice on him at the end of Charms before hurrying away;

Lily giggled affectionately for her old favorite teacher.

and Professor Trelawney broke into hysterical sobs during Divination and announced to the startled class, and a very disapproving Umbridge, that Harry was not going to suffer an early death after all, but would live to a ripe old age, become Minister for Magic and have twelve children.

All five of them got a crack out of that one. They seemed to forget a lot how much fun Trelawney could be and enjoyed the reminders.

The best part of all was Cho catching up to Harry, lacing his hand with hers as she whispered in his ear that the interview had been really brave and made her cry.

"Was, that an apology, or...?" James trailed off with a furrowed brow.

"She was holding his hand, I'll take that as a sign of forgiveness for meeting up with other girls," Sirius rolled his eyes at the girls further dramatics.

Harry had a soft smile in place, he was happy he'd found some more even ground with her, and they all wondered if they'd been dead wrong at the end of Harry's first date. Maybe he and Cho did make up and further on from there.

He was sorry to hear she had shed even more tears over it,

Lily couldn't help a further smattering of giggles, all boys considered crying a bad thing, even tears of joy.

but very glad they were on speaking terms again, and even more pleased when she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and hurried off again.

Harry touched the spot on his cheek, his smile growing more as his face took on another tinge of red, and for once he could easily ignore the snickers of those around him. He could still feel something for Cho, and though it didn't feel nearly as powerful as he thought it would if he'd married her, perhaps his full memories just hadn't been returned yet and he'd have even more happy memories of sharing time with her.

Unbelievably, no sooner had he arrived outside Transfiguration than something just as good happened: Seamus stepped out of the queue to face him.

"Finally!" Remus said in relief. It hadn't exactly been a major drama, but it was still boggling the idea one of Harry's roommates had taken so long to believe Harry. Even not being close friends, Seamus really would have been expected to be one of those who'd know better.

He spoke to Harry's knee as he mumbled his apology, but firmly said he now believed Harry and had sent a copy of that magazine to his mum.

"It's a start," Sirius raised a brow at that.

"I accepted it," Harry said agreeably, that smile was finally so carefree in here, they were all still smiling as well.

Still better, was that whomever would have retaliated such as children from the Death Eaters he had named, could do nothing,

Lily smiled grimly to herself, beyond pleased as she realized they now had names for all of Voldemort's inner circle. There were still more out there, there would always be more Death Eaters, but if she could find one good thing in the throes of these wretched things happening to her son, it was the justice those vermin would get.

because in doing so they'd admit to having read the article themselves.

James pumped his fist in triumph while Sirius cackled, all five of them beyond words at this level of comeuppance.

To cap it all, Luna told him over dinner that no issue of The Quibbler had ever sold out faster.

"Imagine that," Remus said dryly with a friendly chuckle.

Excitedly telling him that her dad was reprinting, people found this more interesting than the Crumple-Horned Snorkack!

"Miracles," Sirius almost managed with a straight face.

Fred and George chose to celebrate this by hanging up a large banner in the Gryffindor dorm, the poster of Harry's face that they'd enchanted to shout 'Ministry are Morons' and 'Eat Dung Umbridge' loudly through the room.

All four boys got yet more laughter out of this, though Lily thought that was pushing it just a touch too far. Umbridge hadn't yet, but she half feared at this point the woman would show up and give the whole house detention.

The charm wore off after a few hours, and by the time night rolled around it was merely squeaking 'Dung,' and 'Umbridge.'

"I'm actually quite confident it would still be amusing," James corrected, thinking of some clever things he could do if he figured out the timing of those words.

Lily didn't argue the point even as she watched his calculating look with exasperation.

To the disappointment of people still chatting to Harry about the article, he excused himself for an early night as his scar began to prickle.

They hated how short lived Harry's happiness was, but before their eyes they saw he was already starting to twitch with unease again, rubbing at his scar, his eyes taking on that glazed look of pain all over again.

The dormitory was empty when he entered, sinking onto his bed and rubbing at his forehead which was paining him worse every moment. Hoping sleep would help, he laid down, and instantly fell asleep.

Lily shivered down to her bone even before Sirius could catch his breath to keep going. Harry hadn't stopped rubbing his scar in here since it was mentioned, and he was looking just as sick as described. She wanted to make Sirius stop, to go get him a cold press for his forehead if that helped him even for a second, but she knew the truth, she was just delaying. They could all feel it was happening again, Harry's fingers trembling and him pulling into himself as some new terrible memory was resurfacing, and the faster they pushed through it the better.

He was standing in a dark, curtained room lit by a single branch of candles. His hands were clenched on the back of a chair in front of him. They were long-fingered and white as though they had not seen sunlight for years and looked like large, pale spiders against the dark velvet of the chair.

Sirius hung his head, shook it for a moment in agitation for having to be right about this, and then took a very long, deep breath before reading the latest travesty of Harry's life in having to see what Voldemort was up to. It was lost on no one this was yet another level of advanced, Harry now seeing directly into Voldemort's mind, the only thing that could be said was at least Harry hadn't been awake as well, he'd fallen asleep, so there was some consistency in this. Even that smallest moment of understanding and knowing one thing about this was of the vaguest comfort.

In the small pool of light was a huddled man. In a high cold voice resonating from Harry's throat, he spoke about how he'd been ill advised.

Sirius looked wildly around, and waited very impatiently for Harry to meet his eyes. He didn't quite manage it, looking more above his left ear, but Sirius said with such determination, that Harry felt he had no choice but to look him full on, "that is not you!"

Harry had no response for that, but clearly Sirius wasn't doing a thing until he got something, so Harry gave a wobbly nod to his head.

The kneeling man craved his pardon, Harry responding that it was not Rookwoods fault.

Sirius twitched harshly again at having to say that, Harry half expected him to chew off his tongue in frustration, but thankfully he didn't call Harry on it again, they all knew it was only in Harry's mind so that would be how he'd describe it.

Then he demanded Rookwood was sure of his facts?

Rookwood seemed to agree, having worked in that Department after all.

Harry responded that Avery had told that Bode would have been able to do it.

Rookwood corrected Bode, the man himself would know it, which is likely why he'd fought so hard against Malfoy's Imperius Curse.

Remus could feel the usefulness of this information relating to a past event they'd heard about, but for now he was far more concerned hearing Harry wake up already and filed it all away. Unless Voldemort was going to be revealing his mortal weakness, seeing Harry in such intense pain from remembering this would never be worth it.

Harry whispered for Rookwood to take to his feet, and the man was in such haste to do so he nearly fell to the floor again. Even having accomplished this, he still stayed stooped, as if terrified to meet Harry's face.

James felt a disgusted taste lingering in his mouth at such an act he could never comprehend. Such proud Death Eater's treating any man like this was beyond him.

Harry praised Rookwood for this, murmuring they would have to begin again on new schemes with this information. Then he asked that Avery be summoned to him.

For the moment he was alone, Rookwood scrambling out of sight to do as told, Harry turned and found an image of himself in a cracked mirror. His eyes were red with slits in a flat white skull.

Harry hollered loudly in pain, screaming no! Ron found him like this, tangled in his bed curtains.

Sirius closed his eyes in blessing that was finally over, his grey eyes looked ready to shatter as he looked back to Harry with more concern than he ever had for anyone in his life.

Harry wasn't looking at any of them, his eyes tight shut and his jaw aching from clenching it so hard to stop his own scream. He hated these visions, hated how they kept inexplicably reminding him of this connection to Voldemort he had no control over, but most of all he couldn't stand to look at his parents while they were happening. The monster that had cut their life short, and Harry kept reminding them of it all happening just by continuing to live.

Inexplicably, they refused to think the same. That was the only explanation for Lily saying in a tone he could have easily found in Molly Weasley, "Harry love, we should take a break."

He opened his eyes slowly, breathing steadily through his nose to find the pair huddled into each other with, well him in their lap. Maybe they just couldn't disconnect the two from the infant who'd done nothing to the life he was cursed to live dragging everyone else around him with.

"No," he whispered, still unable to look at any of them, how his dad and friends were probably trying to stop themselves laughing silly at how he had to fight back tears every time this happened, wondering when Ron would start accusing him of the boy who cried wolf as it seemed he couldn't go any length of time without panicking over something. "No, I just want to," he gestured vaguely back at his stupid biography, trying to grasp hold of anything to take away these poisonous thoughts from himself. He felt like a curse, any managing of happiness seemed destined to be dragged back into the reminder of how quickly he could lose all of it.

Sirius couldn't make himself immediately keep going, sick with worry as everyone else for just what was going through Harry's head. At least no one he'd cared about had been attacked this time, but for a reason his godson could not explain, the more frequent these visions, the more Harry seemed convinced his life was going to end in ruin. He couldn't imagine how these could continue to get worse, but surely if they were to get better he wouldn't be treating these like a death omen.

Remus had to nudge him hard to get his attention before whispering in his ear, "we can only help by continuing, that's proven to work already, don't let him dwell on whatever he's blaming himself for."

Sirius gave a jerky nod of agreement, fighting past blurry vision for the print again rather than focusing on his distraught godson.

Ron had to struggle with his friend for him to roll free, before demanding if his dad was okay, had that snake attacked again?

Not one of them could blame Ron for this assumption, they would have thought the same if they hadn't knowledge of what it had been.

Harry sat up wildly, convinced his forehead was on fire as he explained in gasping breaths what had happened. Ron at first couldn't grasp what had happened, Harry had seen You-Know-Who?

Harry shivered, his seat the only thing keeping him upright. He couldn't understand how Ron had never looked at him with revulsion like he felt for himself during this. Yet he'd found it no more in Ron's face than any of those around him. He wanted to believe that meant something, but he was too stuck in his own pit to grasp anything else except how much worse this was all going to get before these stopped, if they ever did.

Harry corrected he had been You-Know-Who.

Sirius at least looked a little quailed from his earlier outburst. Harry wasn't even referring to Voldemort by name, he was trying to put some distance into what he'd just witnessed. Harry could never really think he had more to do with Voldemort other than the constant...bother he was in Harry's life.

Then Harry went to talking about Rookwood, and Bode's involvement.

Ron realized that Bode was bewitched to remove something, the weapon.

That feeling of significance from before settled on all of them now, Ron and Harry working this out for them feeling like just a little weight had been pushed away so they wouldn't have to immediately speak of it again while in here. Sirius wished he could be closer to done with this already, he wanted to force Harry to take a break from all of this, but he seemed determined now. Any time Sirius stopped for too long or glanced towards the kitchen, Harry actually would meet his eyes. They were too hard, a distance in them he seemed unable to beat away, but he could still look at Sirius with an expression clearly saying he wanted past this and the only way to do that was for him to keep going.

The door opened then, Dean and Seamus entering. Harry straightened himself at once. Seamus had only just stopped thinking him a nutter, and he didn't want him thinking anything else odd was going on.

"Priorities," James managed to say. It came out far too high pitched, but Harry gave him credit for trying when he still couldn't stop rubbing at a scar that wasn't even paining him in here, only in his memories.

Ron kept himself close to Harry in the guise of getting himself some water as he told him he had to tell-

but Harry said he wasn't telling anyone anything. He wasn't supposed to have seen this at all because of his Occlumency, they wanted him to shut this out.

Both Sirius and Remus flinched like Harry had tried to curse them. In this future of trying to convince him he needed to stop these, now Harry had clearly convinced himself more than ever he should be keeping all of this to himself rather than asking for help.

James noticed, and said firmly, "Harry couldn't have told you even if he'd wanted to, there's no way he could get a note like that out." He finished internally he didn't even blame Harry at this point for not wanting to tell anyone else like Dumbledore. If the man couldn't be bothered to explain his actions towards ignoring Harry's existence than his son certainly shouldn't force himself to be in his company.

By they, he'd meant Dumbledore.

Sirius had looked just a bit better at James' reminder, but it was both of some comfort Harry hadn't meant him, and also just a touch more hurtful he hadn't crossed his mind in wanting to say something about this.

He got back into bed and rolled over so Ron couldn't do anymore, yet could not fall back asleep as his scar continued to burn across his forehead. He bit his pillow in his urge not to shout out in pain, as somewhere far away, Avery was being punished.

Lily made a high pitched noise of concern, her infant in her lap making some fussing noises at his mother's distress. She spent several moments just crooning to him it was all going to be alright while watching her elder child, who was watching back with a look she couldn't place.

The next morning, the two told Hermione all of this over morning break.

She quickly put it all together that this was why Bode had been killed. He'd been regaining himself back and could tell what had happened, and they couldn't have that. Malfoy must have done all this, as often as he was in the Ministry and all of his connections.

"This really is all making a disturbing amount of sense," Remus grumbled, this wasn't helping with their whole trying to change the subject thing. Of course it was a good thing Harry was finally getting some answers, it was absolutely fascinating one scrap of information and Hermione was putting all of this together so easily and saving them from false theories that would only hurt Harry in their speculation.

Harry agreed he'd been there the very day of his trial, though Arthur had only said he was trying to sneak down there for that-

Hermione cut him off by gasping out Sturgis. She realized that Sturgis had been another victim of all this, Malfoy must have tried the same ploy on him, shooting the curse in hopes of catching someone guarding the door, but the Imperiused Sturgis had been caught even earlier in his attempts to break in, hence where he was in Azkaban.

"Oh Merlin," Lily sighed as that was crammed down their throats. As if the Order wasn't suffering enough these days. They supposed if they'd thought about this one after the last revelation of where the weapon was being hidden they would have put this together, but considering all the terrible things they'd been trying to keep track of while also trying to keep Harry's mind off of them, it was almost a relief Hermione putting this for them.

Harry finishing now Rookwood seemed to have told how to really get that weapon, and would probably be sent to fetch it next.

Harry had hated his premonitions from the very beginning, almost afraid of this knowledge in his head he couldn't access in knowing these answers, and somehow the worst of all was the feeling he was getting for who it was that would be sent for this.

Hermione went from nodding in agreement, to abruptly telling Harry off for having seen this at all.

"Well he's hardly been given a suitable way not to," Sirius scowled for her sudden change.

Lily frowned deeply, wishing Severus had given something more useful to Harry than the same repetitive advice that clearly wasn't being of much help.

Harry was taken aback at her change, but Hermione sternly insisted he was supposed to be closing his mind to these things and should be practicing harder at his Occlumency.

"It's almost hurtful she thinks I'm not," Harry grumbled, shaking his head and honestly wishing this whole thing would quit being mentioned lately.

Harry was so angry with her he didn't speak to her the rest of the morning, and his day didn't improve from there. The students were still laughing loudly about the last Quidditch game, and Weasley is our King erupted so frequently in the corridors Filch banned it from sheer irritation.

"The first good thing that man's ever done," Remus groused, Harry's mood feeling like an infection. They hadn't kept him smiling for a whole chapter before his high anger was pushing them all back on edge.

The week wasn't going much better, he couldn't shake that dream, but didn't bring it up again as he knew Hermione would only further tell him off for it.

All four of them could be seen rolling their eyes as Hermione continued to act more like a paranoid parent than anything, it wasn't soothing any nerves she couldn't be of any more help than Snape with anything to say other than more practice at something that was just causing Harry pain.

He wished he could talk to Sirius about it, but as that was out of the question, he tried to keep the idea at the back of his head.

Sirius chewed on the inside of his cheek unhappily for a moment, but was all the more agitated he couldn't come up with anything to tell Harry either except more transparent hope.

Unfortunately, the back of his mind was no longer secure these days.

His next Occlumency lesson went the same as always, constantly finding himself on the floor with a swirl of memories, mostly from his primary years and Dudley's old humiliations on him.

"Oh because that's really going to make me feel better," James said bitterly, fighting back the urge more every moment to walk out of the room and find something to curse.

Snape had again cut the connection, and demanded to know what the last one seen was?

They all jumbled together so much for him, Harry thought he was asking about the toilet.

"Err," Remus began, unsure if he wanted an explanation or it would only make things worse.

"I was eight," Harry began prattling off just for the sudden possession of not having to think about magic for a moment, who ever would have thought being bullied by Dudley would be considered a simpler time for him. "Petunia had just got done cleaning the bathrooms, and Dudley was bored so he wanted to see her yell at me. He tried to pick me up and put me in so I'd have to walk around the house with wet feet. That's where the memory ended for Snape," he finished, but continued on even though he didn't really want to, Remus had been right the first time, this probably wasn't going to make them feel better. "I bit Dudley so I wouldn't go in though, and then I ran out of the house till I came back near dinner, which I was denied and locked in my cupboard for because Vernon said the the teeth marks were still there. He told Dudley to bite me back, but he didn't want to because he said it was gross. So I said back I thought I should spend the night in the bathroom, I'd already been throwing up all day from nicking him."

He finished and looked around at them again, expecting to see yet more anger or something, but instead he saw an almost proud smirk from James. "Always love hearing you gave them hell back."

Harry managed an honest grin at him, hoping he'd return the favor by telling him some story from his youth again, and James happily provided. "Reminds me of the time Sirius bit Remus, and we got into this whole argument about what would happen if a werewolf bit a person while he was still human."

Harry busted out laughing more from surprise than anything as he demanded the obvious from his godfather, "why did you bite him?"

"I told him if he took one more of my sugar quills I would," Sirius shrugged, "he clearly didn't take me Siriusly."

Harry doubled up laughing all the harder while Remus rolled his eyes at the lot of them and tried to take the book away from Sirius to keep going. Sirius bared his teeth, Remus rolled his eyes harder, but Sirius kept going.

Snape corrected the one with the kneeling man in the dark room.

Harry denied knowledge of it as Snape tried to bore into Harry's eyes. Remembering eye contact was key in catching a lie in Legilimency, Harry looked away.

"I'm disturbed he's parted wisdom on you," James tisked even as he approved of this.

Snape was not fooled, asking how that particular place wound up inside his head?

"He has a very vivid imagination," Sirius snarked.

Harry tried to play it off as a dream, but Snape cut him off by demanding if Potter remembered why Snape was giving up his evenings for this tedious work.

"As opposed to counting your friends again?" Remus smirked.

"All none of them," Sirius agreed.

Lily frowned lightly at them, and James who wasn't bothering to repress a smile. She may be angry at Snape for treating Harry the way he was, but she still knew she'd never devolve into such petty insults.

Harry responded it was to learn Occlumency.

Snape said that Potter was correct and dim as he was, Harry finally looking back to him with hatred,

"That went without saying," James groused, Lily's eyes flashing in agitation again at once. Even for the one second she'd wanted to defend him it was gone again as he continued insulting her boy who in no way deserved it.

he would have expected after two months some progress. Then he asked how many more of these dreams had occurred?

Harry lied and said no more.

Again, Snape did not believe him, then asked if Potter was even trying? Perhaps he enjoyed these visions, thinking it made himself special, important.

Harry snapped how untrue this was.

Snape coldly responded that was true, he was in no way special or important. It was not of his business what the Death Eaters got up to.

Harry shot back that was Snape's job.

Sirius cocked his head to the side, some amusement for Harry snapping at him in there, but mostly wanting to make the jab Harry could do Snape's job and they wouldn't need the man around at all. It was all lost though before he'd even formed the idea, he still didn't want Harry having to deal with this, let Snape take the risk.

There was a glint in Snape's eyes as he whispered that was true at least.

"You impressed him," Lily said, narrowing her eyes curiously at such a response.

"I think I'm going to faint," James declared, they all looked astounded Snape hadn't just told Harry to shut his mouth again.

Then he at once pushed Harry into going again, hardly waiting past the count of three before Legilimens was used on Harry, and again he was flying through a whirl of memories. He was surrounded by a hundred dementors, he could see their shapeless mouths coming closer, but then he was back in Snape's office, the two overlapping each other and wobbling...Harry collected himself long enough to shout 'Protego.'

"Oh dear," Lily turned flat white in shock, but she hadn't a second to say anything even if she could have hazard a guess what this would do.

It did nothing to stop the flood of memories, but suddenly they weren't Harry's. A little boy sat in the corner crying as an unfamiliar man with a hooked nose shouted at a cowering woman with greasy black hair- a teenager sat alone cursing flies off his ceiling- a girl was laughing as a scrawny boy was thrown from a bucking broomstick-

She wasn't sure if Sirius just didn't care, or didn't know what that would do, but by the time he'd realized it, he'd simply kept going until he ran out before looking around at his friends with a contemplative look on his face.

"Well, err, I recognized that last one," Remus said awkwardly for Harry. "That was Mary Macdonald laughing anyways, our flying practice during first year."

Harry hardly heard him, the same stunned look on his face as the rest of the boys, before they all looked to Lily, who sighed deeply. "I'm not telling you, it's private." She said flatly without looking at any of them.

The fact that she knew what that first memory was about somehow made it even more awkward for them. Still, Sirius turned back with the same look on his face he always did when reading about Snape, he didn't consider how a parent treated you any excuse for what the guy kept doing to Harry.

Snape cut these off, Harry falling back as if shoved in the chest. He again found himself on the floor, looking up at his potions teacher.

Snape spoke in a carefully controlled voice that had actually been of some improvement, brushing his hand against the Pensive that was again in the room, as if checking to make sure the rest of his memories in there were intact.

"And now we see why," James muttered, his eyes still narrowed as he thought back to many insults he'd made in the past, and actually feeling a little bad for a few of them. He knew Snape would never do the same though, Snape knew everything Harry had gone through in his life and continued to treat him the exact same way.

Harry did not speak, feeling in the most danger yet. He was reeling that the same crying child had grown into a man with such loathing gazing down at him.

Lily had a hard time swallowing for a moment, stinging tears in her own eyes as vivid memories from her own childhood resurfaced. Realizing he'd run to her house in the dead of night and throwing rocks at her window until she came sneaking down. The two staying up in their little grove till sunrise wishing there was some escape from those who hated them. At least her own parents had been a bridge between her and her sister, and she'd tried to be that for Sev and his parents, but it had never truly worked, and she'd never even bothered to find out if it got better after she'd stopped speaking to him. She blinked back into the room to find James with his arm tight around her, brushing at the baby's hair and actually holding his tongue against whatever that look meant until she nodded to Sirius to keep going.

Snape instructed Harry to get to his feet, they were going again. Harry did so with dread, knowing he was about to pay for what he'd just seen.

Sirius ground his teeth together hard in frustration for that. Harry was about to be punished again for something from Snape's past.

Harry had not a second to collect himself before it started again, but this time he was revisiting the dark corridor from his memories. As always he ran down, and the blue light was peeking through again. Harry reached for it, and this time, the door opened.

He was in a circular room with floor and ceiling black as night, even more doors on every side of him, the only light coming from blue candles mounted on the walls. He had to keep going, push through into one of the next doors- but then he was back in Snape's office, the man glaring at him with more anger than ever.

Harry gasped wildly, startling so bad he nearly fell out of his seat. Sirius glanced to him in concern, then looked to the others for some sort of explanation. They all looked just as stunned though, unable to understand what was happening here.

"Harry's never been this far before, and Voldemort shouldn't have either!" Lily protested what she was hearing vehemently. "No one should be seeing this!"

"Maybe, maybe Rookwood has though," James ruffled up his brow as he considered the latest Voldemort news. "He worked in this place, right? So he would have shown Voldemort everything he'd seen, and now, now Harry knows as well," he finished sounding just as confused as when he'd started.

"Should it really work like that though?" Harry sounded just as panicky as his mother. "I don't want to know this, see this! I don't want all of his memories and anything he knows in my head!"

He sounded so desperate and panicky by the end, it truly broke the others hearts to see him like this.

"Oh Harry," Lily pleaded, letting the words tumble out on pure instinct. "You can't keep thinking like that-"

"How else am I supposed to think when it keeps being shoved at me!" He snapped back, but Lily wouldn't be deterred.

"You remind yourself why you're doing this! If you want Voldemort out of your head, then you work on every available way to do that! You're worried Voldemort's taking over your life then you remind yourself of all the people who are on your side and fighting to get rid of him!"

Harry kept watching her like he hoped she'd keep going, but she met his eyes and waited as they ebbed back into that calm, that understanding that had pushed him to cope with every terrible thing he'd relearned while here.

She nodded fiercely and waved Sirius on. It seemed to take him a moment, to watch the fifteen year old girl crying over the loss of her childhood friend be flipped into that mother who refused to see her child fall into the same hopeless feeling. He went back to reading with a smile of pride on his face.

He was panting as though he really had experienced all this in person.

Harry couldn't believe how grateful he actually felt towards Snape for stopping this. It was the first time in his life he looked past the hateful potions teacher and knew Snape could actually be of some help to his life if he'd quit insulting him every step along the way.

Snape demanded Harry explain that one, and Harry rubbed at a lump on the back of his head from falling down again while honestly saying he had no clue what that had been, he'd never been that far before-

Snape cut in hatefully he wasn't working hard enough!

Harry rubbed at where the lump used to be, suddenly more ashamed than ever for is poor Occlumency skills. His mother was right, and so was Snape, he'd never really tried to do this. It was of some comfort to him his father and friends rolled their eyes for Snape's jab, that they weren't blaming Harry for this...yet. He pulled away from that at once, there would never be a time they'd blame him because of whatever this connection was, right?!

Potter was lazy, and sloppy, it was no wonder the Dark Lord was-

Harry cut in to ask why Snape called him that, he'd only known Death Eaters to refer to him as such.

Snape opened his mouth, a crude retort clearly awaiting, when a woman screamed.

Sirius startled so bad he nearly dropped the book from surprise. Then he cast his mind out before anyone could get too panicky, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Finally, something entertaining is happening around there!"

Remus gave him a look of great concern as he demanded, "just what could a scream be used for as a good thing?"

"For shame Moony!" Sirius wagged his finger in his face. "Scream of surprise, scream of delight, hell even screaming in laughter! Don't get so dower on me a scream is only a bad thing now."

"I worry about him," Lily told James in an almost conversational tone of voice.

James agreed, but instead he told him, "well get on with it then, or we'll be spending the next hour with you recanting the last time you made a girl scream, and no one wants to hear that again."

Sirius rolled his eyes but complied anyways.

They both looked sharply to the ceiling, Snape asking if Potter had seen anything this would relate to on his way down here?

"Someone standing in the middle of the school screaming? Oh yeah, just slipped my mind," Remus rolled his eyes.

When Harry said no, Snape strode out, and Harry only hesitated a moment before following.

"I'm not even sure why you hesitated," James scoffed.

The scream appeared to have resonated from the large ring in the Entrance Hall, and Harry have to shove his way to get a view. The first face he registered was across the ring, McGonagall looked faintly sick at the proceedings.

Lily felt goosebumps erupt on her at this. If whatever was happening was upsetting McGonagall, but she wasn't stepping in, then what the bloody hell could be happening!?

Then he fully saw Trelawney in the middle, looking more mad than ever. She'd clearly fallen down the last flight of steps, her hair was flyaway and her glasses askew, all of her beads in a pool around her as if she were melting. Even her luggage looked strewn around at her feet. She was gazing up at someone Harry couldn't quite see, who must be standing at the foot of the stairs.

"What in the world..." Remus tried, and failed, but the shock was keeping them all from saying much of anything, Sirius hurrying through words so fast they were mashing together. None of them had a very fond feeling for Trelawney, but it was impossible to believe she was a spectacle without anyone stepping in to whatever mayhem this was!

Trelawney shrieked this wasn't true, she couldn't accept it!

A girlish voice responded surely this wasn't a surprise.

Harry finally got around the last person to see Umbridge, brimming with glee as she gazed down, her voice more feminine than ever with her own delight as she explained that though Trelawney was incapable of predicting the weather, she must have seen this coming.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Lily shrieked, the baby in her lap now fussing in his blankets in her lap. "That is, this isn't, how could she-" she forced herself to stop screaming because her child had joined in, but the anger wasn't being cooled one little bit.

"Why can't this stupid curse kick in early already," Remus scowled. "I want her gone well before the end of the year, like the staircase collapsing on her right now!"

Sirius was too shocked to keep going for a moment. Like Harry had said before, this had been forthcoming with how obvious it was Trelawney may not be around the rest of the year, but no one could have foreseen such a brutal showing like this.

Trelawney had tears pouring down her face as she stated this couldn't happen, Hogwarts was her home!

"Does she even have anywhere else to go?" Remus whispered. He really didn't know much about her except for her classes, but suddenly he wondered if she was like Hagrid, if she had no other place to call home like a few of the other teachers did.

He hadn't expected an answer, and it was probably kinder he hadn't gotten one, no one wanted to consider the alternative.

Umbridge stated this was her home,

"This is..." sick didn't begin to cover it, but James was failing to come up with another word. He'd never even seen some of the Death Eaters out there enjoy watching someone else in so much pain, in such a public way!

until an hour ago when the Minister had co-signed the Order of Dismissal. Umbridge requested Trelawney escort herself off the property, she was embarrassing them.

"How she dare!" Lily was still fired up over every detail of this. "Them! She's no right to put herself in line with anything to do with that school, with a decision no respectable person would ever dream of putting together!"

Even as she said it, her own gloating euphoria didn't dim, she was clearly enjoying the show as Trelawney sobbed in place. There were some muffled crying to Harry's side as well, and he glanced over to see Lavender and Parvati clutching each other with tears in their own eyes.

James was shaking his head in honest sympathy for the two. Though he couldn't imagine just standing around crying during this scene, he knew he would have been in Umbridge's face telling her what's what about this even for a teacher he didn't like. The woman may have the audacity to kick a teacher out of his school, but she couldn't force that teacher to leave the premises...yet.

Then his mind offered one last desperate hope, where was Dumbledore? Surely he'd find some way to stop this? The idea was dashed as soon as it had appeared though, as Dumbledore hadn't seemed to be doing much of anything these days.

McGonagall did step in then, marching to Trelawney's side and offering her a handkerchief and a firm arm around her shoulders.

Lily finally felt herself relaxing, just a touch, as she hummed with approval. McGonagall could always be counted on to offer up some comfort to those who needed it, she was still stunned it had taken this long for their old Transfiguration teacher to step in for this injustice.

McGonagall comforted Sybil she wouldn't have to be leaving anywhere, while Umbridge tried to contest whose authority Minerva had to be saying that?

The front doors opened in that exact moment, and Dumbledore made his entrance.

"I feel the need to reiterate the book now," Sirius beamed, "what an entrance."

Remus smacked him lightly and called him an idiot even as he was smiling as well. Finally Dumbledore's timing felt like it was back on their side.

What he'd been doing on the front lawns was anyone's guess, but he swooped right in on the scene and informed Umbridge that was not her position to claim.

Umbridge made a tinkling laugh as she said she was afraid Dumbledore had misunderstood the position she was in.

"I'm afraid you've misplaced your soul, but I won't be the one getting it back from the dementor," Remus groused.

"Actually, I heard that if a dementor kissed her, she'd suck out its soul," James stated.

Sirius laughed, the first time he'd really been able to do so when mention of those things had come up.

She again flashed the Order of Dismissal, and her role as High Inquisitor gave her power to fire Trelawney, whom she'd deemed not up to scratch.

Harry waited for Dumbledore's reaction, but he only continued to smile.

"What's he got up his sleeve?" James demanded with sudden eagerness, his kindling of hope finally being given life again Dumbledore would pull through on making this actually somehow better.

Dumbledore did not argue that she had the right to dismiss his teachers, not not to ban them from the grounds, that was still his ruling.

Trelawney tried to cut in through her sobs she would not be somewhere she was not wanted-

but Dumbledore kindly cut in it was his wish for Sybil to remain here with them.

"Ha!" Sirius barked in triumph, all five of them seconds away from pumping the air in victory. "Dumbledore's not going to let Trelawney just walk away from this!"

Harry was still grinning along with the rest of them even as he distantly wondered if Dumbledore had some ulterior motive for this other than just proving a point to Umbridge. He wondered if he was growing paranoid, surely Dumbledore didn't have to have a second reason for doing everything.

He turned and asked McGonagall to escort Sybill back to her lodgings, and McGonagall kindly did so, Sprout hurrying forward to Trelawney's other side. Flitwick came up behind them and enchanted her luggage as the four went back up the stairs.

"I love this place," Remus said wistfully. His best memories had been collected in those walls, and now he was adding another from a time outside his own. He'd never underestimated how lucky he was to even be going there, to be treated like any other student on a daily basis, and now he was getting the fortune of watching the teachers band together for one of their own again. He didn't even pity Umbridge, but continued waiting impatiently for that toad to be ostracized from such a place already, for daring to tamper with such a home for so many.

Umbridge watched all this with a frosty expression, and demanded of him what was to be done with her when the new Divination teacher was appointed and needed lodgings?

"You'd have to put her in that exact place eh?" Sirius said poisonously. "No other bloody room in that grand castle would be good enough, you also need to invade her room!"

"Dumbledore won't let her," James said with conviction once again, even this small win of Dumbledore's against Umbridge had finally restored his lacking faith in his old headmaster.

Dumbledore pleasantly informed that wouldn't be a problem, his new Divination teacher would prefer a ground floor.

"He works fast," Lily said slowly as they all paused in confusion of this. Apparently this had all taken place in less than an hour, which means someone very close to the Minister must have warned Dumbledore this was fixing to go down and the man acted lightning fast in getting a replacement set even before Umbridge had gotten the paper herself. It couldn't have been Percy, but they couldn't think of anyone else who'd know about this and been able to warn Dumbledore in time for him to go fetch, well whoever was getting the new job.

Umbridge shrilly cut in he'd found a new teacher? By Decree number Twenty-two-

Dumbledore cordially said that the amendment was only there if, and only if, the Headmaster was unable to find his own teacher, and on this happy occasion he had succeeded.

All three Marauders burst out laughing, a near euphoric mood at their headmaster pushing such a loophole into that doughy face!

He waved back to the grounds of the school still visible from the left open doors, and offered to introduce him now. Only the soft sound of hooves was warning before half a man stepped into the light, with pale blond hair matching his palomino body on his horse half.

Dumbledore announced this was Firenze.

Harry gave an awkward smile for this announcement amongst the shocked faces. His only memory of the centaur wasn't a particularly fond one even if his life had been saved by him.

"Well, who would have seen that coming?" Sirius blinked in surprise.

"This certainly is, unprecedented," Remus agreed as Sirius passed Harry the book, very obviously keeping it open for his spot with an obvious look at James who didn't get it.

Lily ignored the lot of them. Though happy Trelawney got some kind of win out of this, couldn't help but say, "well considering he once saved Harry's life, let's at least hope he won't pick up on Trelawney's trend of telling Harry he's going to die."

HPHPHPHP

Glory this was an emotionally messy chapter!

[straight-into-the-animus]

Share the Pain of Our Defeat (Malik and Kadar)

@cimbaerly​ Thank you so much for the kind words! I’m sorry it took so long; I’ve never written anything for AC1 nor do I claim to know much for it, but I knew I had to give it a try for you!

I hope you enjoy!! Warnings for angst and mentions of canonical character death/beginnings of AC1 spoilers

read on ao3

The castle of Masyaf was, in all things, the heart of any Assassin. It was where many of them were born, kicking and screaming like the fighters they would almost all grow up to be.

It was where many were born and where many might retire, should they be lucky to have such an honor. Malik knew from a young age that it was a rare luxury as soon as he was old enough to comprehend the world. Not many would end up making it to such an age; not when you were meant to give up everything for the Creed, including your very life, should it come to that.

That was how things were, and it was all for the eventual betterment of mankind. Mortality was finite under the best circumstances. 

Kadar grasped this and the importance of this sacrifice, yet dealt with it in some different way. He first began to question when he was entering the beginnings of his teen years, in the most unusual ways.

“What if the Creed ends?”

“What?” Malik almost stopped in his tracks, grip on the training sword faltering for just a second. Kadar kept his defensive stance, ready should his brother attack, but his eyes almost seemed to be focused on something else which eluded him.

“If the Templars were to attack Masyaf, and they were to kill all of us… What would happen to the Creed? Would people just forget it?”

“Well… No. No, there would still be people to carry on the Creed.”

“But they’d all be dead.”

“The Creed is an idea. Ideas don’t die.”

“People do. And you just said-” He put his sword down and edged out of his defense as he started to get into the discussion, and Malik quickly came in to take advantage. With a few swift movements, Kadar’s sword was thrown away from his reach, and he was pinned on his back, wide-eyed at the sudden shift in behavior.

“And people will die if they keep talking and getting distracted during training.” Malik arched an eyebrow, and Kadar mumbled out something in understanding before Malik got off of him, and he rolled to stand.

“I was just asking questions, big brother.”

“And for every one second you spend asking questions, you lose one second off of your life.”

“You’re no fun.” Kadar huffed but agreed and went silent as they continued to train.

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

“Does it hurt?” Kadar sat next to Malik on the stone wall, gingerly as if he would any further hurt his brother. Malik looked over at his younger brother from where he was focusing on his hand in his lap and attempted to give a brave smile. 

“It is not so bad. The pain goes away after a while. And the fact that they burn it stops any impurities from entering the wound. See?” Malik pulled his hand out of his lap and showed Kadar where they had taken his left finger off. There had been a rush of pride when the Masters had told him he was ready for the honor of his initiation, to be made into a true man of the Brotherhood. Both him and Altair were now, and that burned something fierce in him that they were on the same level. Not in capability, but in rank. That would need to change soon.

“Why do you do it? Is it because of the Creed?”

“What does the Creed…?”

“It seems unnecessary. To have to cut off a finger.”

“It’s for the Hidden Blade. It makes things easier, so we don’t have to risk our fingers every time we use it. And it’s a sacrifice. For the Brotherhood.”

“There you go on again.”

“Excuse me?” Malik sharpened his tone; not that it was hard with pain still shooting from his hand and throbbing from the stump of his finger to the rest of his body. Kadar still looked unfazed, meeting Malik’s gaze with his own challenging one.

“You cut off your finger without any question? Caused yourself pain because someone told you?”

“Those are our Masters-”

“And have you not thought that you’ve made yourself a target? Obviously, Templars will know what to look for if they see a man in white robes.”

“Kadar, please silence yourself-”

“I don’t want to.”

Their voices didn’t raise at all, a feat remarkable for the heat of the conversation, but there was anger there that Malik was unsure of, something he couldn’t control. This was meant to be a proud day, something he thought his brother would care to witness and be excited to undergo someday of his own accord, and it just… wasn’t there. Or it was hidden under this new bitterness. The younger man went quiet despite how he had protested against his silence, looking down at the ground below the mountains, and Malik took the opportunity.

“This is how things are done. This is how the Brotherhood will survive.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because- Because I do. Because I must. For all our sakes. Look at me.” He waited until his younger brother’s head was raised, and their eyes met. “It is seen as harsh, yes. But it is our world. It is a noble effort. And we are the only ones able to do it for the betterment of men. Though we might not be remembered, not by them, we will be remembered by our own. There is nothing to fear.”

“I don’t fear anything-”

“You do.” And Malik hadn’t been sure of it, not entirely, but he knew in the instant that it was the truth; when he brought it up, Kadar’s eyes had darted away to the left in avoidance, though his voice remained steady. “Kadar. It’s fine to be afraid. But not forever. You’re to be a man of the Brotherhood, and then we all need to look out for each other. You look out for me. And I’ll look out for you.”

Kadar was silent as he studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “You swear that?”

“I do. I swear it on everything.” Malik intoned, face serious as he looked into his brother’s eyes, which were so similar to his. Eventually, Kadar nodded, releasing a breath.

“Then I’ll swear as well to look out for you. And I’ll hold you to it.”

“Fair,” Malik responded, body relaxing slightly as Kadar’s body turned away, and he leaned back on his arms to look out on the landscape stretched out in front of them. The sun was not yet begun to set on them, and in his eyes, Malik saw some quiet flame of passion not yet stomped out despite what was said. He was young yet, and a pain quickly made itself known in Malik’s chest -- one more intense than the one in his hand -- that this wouldn’t be the case forever. Which he expected, it was their lot in life, and Malik was proud of that.

But… were they any different, he couldn’t help but wonder if that fire in Kadar’s eyes would be suited for something else. Where that passion and youth would be directed if not for their Brotherhood.

The sun was long set when they left the wall.

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

Malik still thought about those days, sometimes, when things were too quiet, and there were no maps to make, no novices to direct. When he had been younger, there had been a part of him that longed to go and fight for their cause, to leave the safe haven of Masyaf. He had been a young man, then, full of ambition. Jerusalem seemed as far away as you could get for the moment.

There was no pain in his left hand, now. Though that had been so long dulled now, the years making it so, he had to adjust to no hand at all; most of no arm.

And now things were too quiet.

He still saw Kadar, heard him despite how impossible things seemed. In the face of every novice, either much too serious or much too brash, ready to made their presence known and make someone proud, make Malik proud. Sometimes he had to stand still and center himself to keep the bile from rising in his mouth long after those boys left because most of the time they truly were no more than boys.

Except for one. The minute he would walk in, he felt inside as though he was a cat, spitting and hissing and righteous indignation because how dare he stride in when Malik was trying to pull himself together after he had ruined and broken the promise he had tried so hard to keep?

The circles under his eyes seemed to darken every time he caught his reflection, but no one dared to make any sort of mention about it. The food tasted bitter, always, but he would attempt to eat it anyway. 

Things would be better someday, he knew somewhere deep in his bones. He had more people to look after, in his own way, and there was a comfort to be had there. For as much as those novices scared him, he could guide them, teach them. Fix his mistakes.

But for now, just for now… When the sun was starting to set over the high buildings, he would think of indignation and fear and an eager young man who tried to embrace a Creed that Malik now knew he had no place in, never did.

He hoped that Kadar could forgive him, that he could forgive himself. And he would. He would.

But not now.

This was a weird, experimental mess and I’m sorry y’all had to sit thru it, but I somewhat enjoyed it?

So I hope you enjoyed it in return! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request!  If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #14: Valentine Vesuvius

words: ca. 4700 setting: mAU with accidental time travel lemon: no cw: homelessness

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

I turned to look at Elsa in confusion. Wasn’t this museum date her idea? She looked mischievous, her left eyebrow arched.

I opened my mouth. Shut it. Opened it. I glanced at the other families gathered in a loose arc around the museum tour guide who was currently droning on about some old emperor or another.

“Hell yeah,” I whispered.

Moments later we were giggling as we ran through a deserted hallway like school girls skipping class. Never mind that we were two adults in our upper-twenties who chose as well as paid to be at the museum.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves suddenly immersed in a dim room void of people, filled instead with spotlights on old pottery from Ancient Rome or something. Elsa spun to face me and took my hands in hers. I dragged my gaze from a vase depicting a mountain with people at its base, and met Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” she said, gently squeezing my hands.

“I’m the lucky one,” any more words would have been cut off as Elsa cupped my face and kissed me.

She pulled away slightly and rubbed her thumb in a soft circle on my cheek. “Anna…”

My eyes were still closed from the intimate sensation, but I blinked them open. Why did she sound so sad? “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

She took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

“I just… I want kids so bad, Anna.”

My heart broke. I nodded. “I know, Els. I do too.”

“I thought this tour would be a fun valentines date. I just didn’t expect there to be so many families. So many kids. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to be around them another second.” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

We had been trying everything we could the past couple of years, but the IVF wasn’t working and every adoption had fallen through. It was all getting so expensive, and even more frustrating.

I rubbed her arm. “Why is it so easy for straight people to accidentally create life, but when a couple of lesbians want kids it costs twenty thousand dollars and two left kidneys?”

“It’s not fair,” Elsa sighed.

“It’s not,” I said. “But hey,” I touched her chin, lifting her head up from its sad slouch. “We’re strong as fuck. We’re not going to give up.”

Elsa nodded.

“And until we do become parents,” I continued, “we are still perfect, and whole, and completely the best family I could ever imagine. Just the two of us.”

She smiled. “You’re right, Anna. With you by my side, there’s nothing else I could ever need. I hope I’ve never made you feel like you aren’t enough. You’re my everything; so much more than I deserve.” Pulling me close, she started sounding more like herself again.

“Don’t be silly,” I kissed Elsa quickly. “You deserve everything good in the world.” Another kiss. “And I love you.” Another. “So much.”

The last kiss was deepened by way of Elsa’s grip on the back of my neck. She took my lower lip between her teeth and flicked the tip of her tongue across it playfully, sending a shiver up my spine and heat shooting down my stomach.

I gasped as Elsa grabbed my waist and kissed my neck while she walked us toward a wall. Throwing my head back, I was relying on her to guide us. I couldn’t function when she was sucking on my neck, my pulse point like — that, ah! Jesus!

“Oops.”

I barely registered that my back hit something wobbly, but the last thing I heard was the unmistakeable sound of pottery crashing on the floor. I felt a flash of cold air run over my skin and then - nothing.

————————————-

When I came to, the first thing I felt was a piercing headache. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet and I wished I could close them. Gripping my skull, I rolled around in the darkness behind my eyelids, wishing the high pitched shriek in my ears would fade. Then I noticed the bumpy texture digging into my back. Uhh… Why did the museum floor feel like it was made of rocky ground?

Perhaps more pressing: why was the rocky ground …trembling?

I stopped moving altogether and sure enough, the ground I was laying on was shaking. I cracked my eyes open only to be blinded by bright sky. This was definitely not the museum exhibit. Blinking rapidly, my eyes started to adjust to the light even as my headache pounded and begged me to close them, or better yet, knock myself back out.

While I waited for my vision to make sense, I scrambled to get my feet under me. This was easier said than done, the way the ground wouldn’t stop moving beneath my legs. Finally I was at least on all fours and stable enough to look around.

“Jesus Christ.” Was that a motherfucking volcano? I arched my neck to see the top of the mountain I was extremely close to. Pluming dark clouds surrounded its peak. What the hell happened to me?

I whipped my head around, swaying from the dizzy fit the motion sent me into. I was in sort of a vast, empty field of rocky, grassy terrain. There looked to be a bustling town just down the hill. No one else was around, except —

“Elsa!” I shrieked. I scrambled to my right, getting to my feet as I gained momentum. Rocks kept shifting under my bare feet and I tripped a couple of times before I reached where she was laying. I fell to my knees by her side, and rolled her onto her back.

“Elsa?” I tapped her cheek with my palm, patting it several times. “Els! Wake up!”

She groaned.

Relief washed over me. I kept nudging her until she came to. She groaned again. “Ugh… my head.”

“Shh, I know, it sucks.” I said, more to myself than to her, as I pulled her head into my lap. “Wait. Are you wearing a fucking toga?” I looked down at myself. “Am I wearing a fucking toga?!”

We were both wearing cream colored fabric gathered at the shoulders and the waist. As if being at the base of a volcano wasn’t enough of a wake up call, for some reason the wardrobe change was what pushed me over the edge. It felt like my throat was closing up as I started struggling to breathe. My lungs couldn’t fill; I took breaths faster and faster, but too shallow to help. Perfect time for a panic attack, Anna.

Slow down. I closed my eyes, gripping Elsa tightly to me. Breathe in.

I felt the fabric under my fingers, it was thick but soft. Breathe out.

I heard birds chirping their alarms in the distance, wind sweeping past, and small rocks settling into new places all around me. Breathe in.

I smelled… fresh, salty air, tainted by something like smoke or dust. Breathe out.

“Hey lady! Is she dead?”

My eyes snapped open. There was a young girl, about eight years old approaching us from down the hill. She held a basket and wore a similar tunic, but hers had been through a lot. It was tattered and dirty. The words she spoke were so strange - I understood them in my head but at the same time, they sounded… foreign to my ears.

I cleared my throat. “No, she’s just waking up,” I responded. My own words had the same strange quality to them when I spoke to the girl.

“Oh. Who are you? My name is Cassia.” She had dark hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders.

“What a pretty name!” I said, a million thoughts racing through my head. “I’m Anna, and this is my… this is Elsa.” I didn’t know where, or when, we were so I didn’t want to get us into any unnecessary trouble. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any. I was just gathering some berries when the ground shook again. Did you do it?” She squinted at me suspiciously.

So there are earthquakes here often. “No, of course not,” I laughed, hopefully convincingly, even though I had never felt less like laughing. “Elsa and I are traveling from afar, but …we got lost and hit our heads when the earth shook. Can you tell us where we are, exactly?”

Cassia gave me a strange look. “This is Pompeii, silly. What other city is at the bottom of the volcano?”

Pompeii?

….Holy fucking Vesuvius…

———————————————————

Once Elsa was fully conscious and aware of our situation, we decided to take Cassia up on her offer to show us to her home, which turned out to be more of a fort in the outskirts of town. It was about midday and the kid was generous enough to let us hang out in her home while she went back out to keep foraging, now that the tremors had slowed down enough.

We sat on the dirt floor after Cassia left, both staring off into the distance, in shock. How the fuck did this happen?

“So…” Elsa began.

“We’re in fucking Pompeii!” I exclaimed.

“What the fuck!” Elsa said.

And then we laughed, because, honestly, what else could we do at that point? We laughed uncontrollably. We laughed at our clothes. We laughed at the earthquake, at the damn volcano, at the funny way all of the words sounded.

When we couldn’t laugh anymore, I fell into Elsa’s torso and we sat, half snuggled up on the dirt floor of this impoverished orphan’s dwelling place.

“What year do you think it is?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Elsa said. “Does it matter?”

“I mean,” I glanced at her sideways, “I sure hope it’s not 79 AD.”

“Is that when it happened? How do you even know that?”

“I told you I always liked that section of art history.”

“Hmm,” Elsa sighed. “Well how do we even figure it out? We can’t just ask someone. Do they even use that system right now? Like the AD and BC stuff?”

I shrugged. “I almost don’t even need to be told though, you know? Just by the way that smoke looked above the volcano… I have a bad feeling.” Elsa looked concerned too. “Maybe we could ask around to find out if it usually does that when there’s an earthquake here. We could get a sense for how much we need to panic.”

“That’s a good idea. And if it’s the worst case scenario, then there’s the question of, do we worry about evacuating or do we figure out how to get us the fuck back home before this place is history?”

Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish we had a clue how it happened. I don’t know how we’re getting back if we don’t know what sent us here in the first place.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We should try to think back on everything that happened in those last few minutes we can remember.”

“Well, we were in that room with the… what was it? Pottery?”

“Mhmm,” I continued, “And you were kissing the life out of me until we bumped into something and it fell. Oh! I wonder if it was that vase I was looking at.”

“What vase?” Elsa asked.

I rubbed my head, “Think think think. Um, it was clay. It had people on it. Oh! And a mountain! A volcano! It had to be that vase. It must have been found in Pompeii, and when we broke it while we were making out, it sucked us into its original time. Or something like that.”

“Sure, that sounds about right for how today’s going,” Elsa said. “But then, why didn’t it come through with us? I didn’t see any clay fragments where we landed on that hill.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “Or maybe it couldn’t come along because here in Pompeii it already exists! Maybe we just have to find where it is now and recreate what happened before.”

“There’s a thought…” Elsa said. “So we just have to search the entire city for a vase with a volcano and people on it.”

“That sounds fun! Can I help?”

Elsa and I both turned to the doorway, startled. How long had Cassia been standing there?

——————————————————————-

Too long. Cassia had been standing there too long, and she had as many questions for us as we had for her.

Before long she knew we were accidentally-time-traveling wives from almost two thousand years in the future and Pompeii was doomed; and we in turn knew it was indeed the 79th year, no the dark volcano clouds were not normal for an earthquake, and the entire city was already scrambling to evacuate. I had a terrible feeling that Elsa and I caused the earthquake through our rough landing, effectively dooming Pompeii. Also, Cassia was eight years old like I had guessed, had been living on her own since she was five and a half, and she wanted nothing more than to help us find the vase we needed.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I said, placing a hand on her arm, “But you have to promise that as soon as we find the right vase you’ll get yourself to safety.”

Cassia glanced to the side as she said, “Promise.”

I was a little concerned about the validity of that promise but decided I’d try again later. First we were off to a shop that sold souvenirs for all the rich vacationers that visited Pompeii.

It was a short walk until we made it into the more touristy, upscale part of the city. Here, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. In and out of homes, carrying personal possessions, yelling for neighbors, yelling at the sky.

We almost lost sight of Cassia several times but we managed to follow her to the shop she talked about. We ducked under the arched doorway into the small space. It was dark, and seemed to be usually lit by candles like the lonely one over to the side that hadn’t been extinguished. Elsa went to retrieve it for us.

Using the single flame to see, we wandered around the space as a little pack, checking out all kinds of little trinkets made from stone and clay. Many were volcano-related, but it all seemed so small compared to the vase I remembered.

“Cassia,” I said, “Do you think this place has any vases that are… this big?” I motioned my hands around to describe the size.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? This place has nothing that big, but it could be…” she tilted her head in thought. “Oh, it’s probably Oaken’s! Duh.”

More winding through the chaotic streets behind Cassia. This walk actually went very fast, and before we knew it we had arrived at another shop. This one was bigger and well-lit inside. We all walked in. I immediately noticed that there were many vases of a familiar style and size, making my heart leap in hope.

“Not open for business or looting!” A voice called from deep in the shop.

“We just have a question!” I yelled back. “It’s urgent!”

“And we mean no harm!” Elsa added.

The man grumbled as he made his way to us, accompanied by the sound of sandals crunching on clay shards. Poor guy must have lost some of his pottery to the earthquake earlier.

“What’s the question?” A very large man appeared from behind a display wall. “Oh Cassia, dear. Why didn’t you say you were here?”

Cassia was standing half behind me. Was she suddenly shy or something?

I spoke up, “Cassia led us here. We think you can help us. We’re looking for a certain vase. We… saw it on a recent vacation but didn’t buy it, and then…”

“Then later we realized we lost a ring,’ Elsa chimed in. “We think it might’ve fallen in this vase.”

The pottery man sighed, “Well that’s a long shot, but what did the vase look like?”

“It was about yay-big, and it depicted the volcano with people underneath,” I explained excitedly.

He raised an eyebrow, “That’s about half the vases I make. You know this is a tourist town at the base of a volcano.”

I thought harder. There was a chip of color I could almost see in my memory. “Um, well, it might’ve had a sort of turquoise color by the rim?”

“Oh!” The man stood up straight. “In that case, I know the exact vase. Unfortunately I sold it about six months ago. Real rich family. Their vacation home is at this address,” he scribbled onto a small stone. “I don’t think they’ve been in town the last few months. With all the chaos out there, nobody would notice if you slipped in to look for the ring. Just make it quick.”

Soon we were walking again. When we entered an empty alley I spoke up, “Hey Cassia, why were you so quiet back there?”

She turned to face us while she kept walking, backwards, “Oaken is nice, but I have to act shy and sad around the people with money, so they’ll feel bad and give me food. I learned pretty fast that they don’t care about a mouthy troublemaker as much as a helpless little girl.”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine having to learn something that depressing as a homeless five year old. Cassia was a strong kid, and she somehow managed to seem happy and nonchalant about her struggles.

Elsa looked around at the quiet homes we were walking between. “Why are some parts of the city so calm while other ones are in chaos?”

Cassia shrugged. “Only the richest people will get to evacuate in time. The rest of us have learned to stay in our homes and hope we make it through whatever comes. There’s no point in panicking around the city because we would never make it onto a ferry anyway.”

The rest of our walk was completed in silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl. I wished there was some way we could help her before we (hopefully) escaped the city ourselves. Judging by the look on Elsa’s face, her heart was breaking for Cassia, too. I met Elsa’s eyes and we shared a look. We definitely had to do something for the girl.

Suddenly we were standing in front of a grand structure made of stone. It was no little hut; more like an ancient mansion. This was somebody’s vacation home? Jeez! These people in 79 AD sure knew how to live lavishly.

“Looks like he was right,” Elsa said. “There’s no one around.”

“Wow!” Cassia was already walking through the front door. “Check this out! They have a river in their house!”

Elsa and I stepped inside and saw what the kid meant. There was a decorative skinny pool of calm water that stretched in a line from the front room of the house to somewhere beyond the next doorway. Pompeii style skylights illuminated the open space with the ashy, dreariness of the sky above.

We passed the minimalist entry room into the next space. Here, there was a staircase to the left, a gathering area, and more doorways.

“Hey Cassia, why don’t you head upstairs and see if there’s any vases up there while we finish looking down here?”

“Okay!” the girl was excited by her solo mission and took off up the stone steps.

Once she was gone, I rushed to Elsa. “Come ‘ere, baby,” I said as we hugged each other close.

She let out a sigh of relief. “I was gonna lose it if we didn’t get to talk soon. Alone.”

“I know,” I said. “This is a lot to go through without being able to actually talk.”

She nodded. “About Cassia…” I knew exactly where she was going.

“We have to take her with us,” I finished.

“She has nowhere to run. If she’s left here she’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

“I know, Els.” I grabbed her hands. “You don’t have to convince me. It’s what we have to do.”

Elsa continued, “And I’m not saying that we have to adopt her or anything, but I just want her to be safe. Once we’re back we can find somewhere for her to—”

“We are fucking raising that child, Elsa.” I interrupted.

“Oh thank god,” she said, as I pulled her in close once more. “Do you think we should tell her?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What if she doesn’t want to come? We’re running out of time, so maybe we shouldn’t give her the option if she might fight it,” she explained. “This is the only way she’ll be safe but if she doesn’t want to leave Pompeii, there’s no way we could make her.”

“Given that she’ll have to hold onto us while we kiss and break the vase…” I added.

“Or we grab her at the last second.”

“Right,” I said. “Either way, you have a point. We shouldn’t give her the option in case she would choose to stay.”

Elsa’s face suddenly went pale as she pointed behind me. I turned to see Cassia standing with her arms crossed.

“If you two wanna have a kid you’re going to have to learn how to talk quieter. It’s so easy to eavesdrop on you!”

My mouth was stuck open while I tried to form words.

“What did you hear?” Elsa asked in a low voice.

Cassia’s demeanor changed from snarky to… almost shy. “Um… Well, if it helps you to know, I’d really like to go with you. Away from here. Please.”

“Of course,” I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a big hug.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Elsa joined in. “And if you want, you never have to be lonely again.”

A soft voice came from the middle of the hug, “I’d like that.”

“Now let’s find that damn vase,” I said, pulling away from them.

“Language.” Elsa looked at me pointedly, with a glimmer in her eye.

Cassia laughed at Elsa. “I already know how to swear, weirdos.”

This kid was going to be an adventure.

——————————————-

A few minutes later, we found the vase in a bedroom. It was sitting on a side table near a window, which was actually just a square cut out of the wall. We were going to have to hurry with the way the sky was looking out there. I was not about to let us get buried in burning ash right after vowing to expand our family to include our new little Pompeii friend.

“Alrighty!” I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing my palms. “So… now what?”

“What did you do to get here?” Cassia said. “Kiss a bunch? Ew.”

Elsa cleared her throat. Yeah this was a little more awkward than I hoped.

“Um, yeah, so,” I began, “maybe you can stand right next to the vase here, Cass. And then Elsa and I will…” I glanced at my reddening wife, “do our thing, and when we bump into the vase, at the last second, you grab onto us.”

Cassia stared at me.

“Does that makes sense?” I asked. “We only have one shot at this.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds easy. You just… you called me Cass.”

Shit. “Sorry, was that ok?” I grimaced.

“I like it,” she grinned. “I like it a lot.”

“Awesome!” Phew. I didn’t want to fuck things up with our kid before we even got home. “So, you stand right here and just ignore everything about what we’re doing except for where we are. Then grab us as soon as—”

“As soon as you hit the vase, yeah. Got it.” Cassia pushed us toward the doorway. “Go be gross.” Elsa and I stumbled over to the open entryway of the room. We ducked out of Cassia’s view for a moment.

We both leaned on the wall and took a second to breathe. I gazed over at Elsa. She had a lot of emotions running across her face; embarrassment, relief, worry. I took her hand, causing her to look at me. “Hey.” I said. “Whatever happens this time… we did everything in our power to fix things.”

“I know,” Elsa sighed. “There’s just so much to process. We probably caused the deaths of everybody here, but at least we could save one person - and that’s if this even works to send us all home, which if it doesn’t, means we’re all going to die the same fate, which maybe we deserve—!”

I cut her off with a kiss: short, but long enough to send my message. “Shhh babe. It won’t do any good to obsess over that right now. If we survive, we will absolutely be marching ourselves to therapy, but for right now, we gotta get in there and get our butts back home.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as if some of the tension eased away.

“Now, you gonna kiss me or what?” I asked with a smirk.

——————————-

I flung my arm wildly about, searching for the bottle of Tylenol on my bedside table. Would that even be strong enough for the fierce pounding in my skull? Instead of my familiar nightstand, I felt cold linoleum floor. I blinked my eyes open. Dim yellow spotlights gave a soft glow in the dark space around me.

Oh.

It all came back, just like that. I rolled over and saw Elsa sprawled out next to me —why am I always the first to wake up?— and the small form of a girl just beyond her. Cassia! She was clothed in a very sensible t-shirt and leggings combo. Thank goodness she didn’t pop into the museum in her old tattered cloth.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed our little …blip, so I quickly slid my two girls across the floor to keep us out of view from the hallway. As I pulled Cassia by her wrists, I noticed the vase sitting on a podium, looking exactly as it had back in Pompeii. It had bright colors and no evidence that almost 2,000 years had passed, or that it had technically shattered twice. Huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?

I sat on the floor next to Elsa and Cass while they continued to sleep off their travels, and I wondered how the vase actually did what it did. Was it a magic vase? Did that guy Oaken know he made something so powerful? Did he make other enchanted pottery? Something told me I would never have the answers to those questions. I certainly wasn’t in any rush to go back and ask him. Nope, ancient time traveling wasn’t really my thing after all.

It wasn’t long before Elsa woke up, and Cassia wasn’t far behind. We probably should’ve prepared her a little for life in the 21st century, as the simple museum lightbulbs were freaking her out. Just you wait, little lady. You have no idea how much your world has changed!

Once we calmed her down a bit, Elsa and I held hands with Cass, and began walking out of the room that changed our lives. Well, we took a few steps anyway, before I halted.

“What’s that noise?” I asked. “That jangly noise?” It was coming from the kid. I raised my eyebrow at her.

Realization dawned on Cassia’s face as her hands found her pants pockets… and pulled out fistfuls of glittering jewelry. “Oops?” she said, nervously.

Elsa’s jaw dropped. “Did you take those from the mansion?”

“I found them upstairs,” Cassia said, looking down at her clean black tennis shoes. “It was all just laying there, and the world was ending.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think we were upset. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I wondered if those pieces of jewelry had ever been recovered from the archeological site. I could see the headlines now: Priceless Ancient Pompeii Artifacts Vanish from Museum! I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.

“Hmm?” Elsa prompted.

“Ah, nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I pointed to the red, glowing Exit sign above a nearby doorway. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 263: [Immigrant Song Intensifies]

Previously on BnHA: Ujiko sicced five Noumus on Miruko. Rephrase that: Ujiko sicced only five Noumus on Miruko. In hindsight this was obviously a mistake. Miruko proceeded to laugh and jump around kicking all of them and literally ripping the head off of the strongest one’s neck with nothing but her thighs. It was legendary and awe-inspiring and also she lost an arm but WHO EVEN CARES, I’m still pledging my allegiance to her. Miruko once beat the sun in a staring contest. Miruko’s calendar goes straight from March 31st to April 2nd, because nobody fucking fools Miruko. Anyway so also the heroes are finally attacking the League of Pliff’s HQ and Skeptic is running around all “AHHHH” so I guess we’ll see how that goes now.

Today on BnHA: Things finally get started over in Gunga, although for the time being most of the kids from 1-A and 1-B are still sitting around in the woods all pent-up and anxious and restlessly shipping KamiJirou. Meanwhile on the front lines, three-and-a-half-year-old Kaminari Denki is all “SOB I WANT TO BE BACK WITH MY FRIENDS WHERE IT’S SAFE”, to which Midnight, who I would just like to remind you is (1) an adult, (2) a teacher, and (3) a person responsible for this literal child’s safety in any number of other capacities, responds with “SORRY KIDDO WE NEED YOUR QUIRK.” I have yet to see any compelling evidence that they really do need it, but putting that dubious matter aside, Kaminari does kick some ass once he gets over his anxieties. Meanwhile Cementoss tears a building in half, Tokoyami reflects on how he was exposed to Kaminari’s good and pure moral character during their many soulful jam sessions, Hawks is about to kill Twice, and – wait, what.

a few stray thoughts since this chapter is taking forever to come out today. one, the good guys need to take out Twice and Toga as soon as they find them, because they’re currently the deadliest combination in the League. Twice for obvious reasons, and Toga because I’m pretty sure she got some of Aizawa’s blood that one time back during the Basement arc, and that fact coupled with the fact that she can now use the quirk of whoever she transforms into spells big trouble for the good guys since she can basically just cancel out whoever’s quirk she wants. plus she’s probably also immune to Midnight’s quirk. all in all bad news

two, it is interesting that Hagakure is the only 1-A kid we haven’t seen yet! probably just me overreacting, but still interesting!

(ETA: we do see her standing next to Mina in this chapter, so so much for that. you get out of it this time Tooru!)

and three, I’m not clear on whether or not Skeptic has actually figured out that Hawks betrayed them, or if he just suspects it, or if he thinks that Hawks leaked something accidentally and doesn’t realize that this entire time the dude was 100% playing them. I’m sure we’ll find out shortly. but regardless of how this plays out, I’m already dreading Twice’s reaction to all this :/ my sweet innocent baby. HE THOUGHT YOU WERE HIS FRIEND HAWKS. HE TRUSTED YOU. fff I really hope Twice’s inherently good and trusting nature isn’t a casualty of all this. then again I still think Twice himself is very unlikely to survive this. so basically I’m just bracing myself for pain sob

(ETA: oh this is bad.)

(ETA 2: by the way just to clarify, the above paragraphs were all written on Friday, and the rest of this recap+all ETAs were written the next day when I finally got to read the chapter! this is not important in any way whatsoever but now you know and that’s half the battle!)

“it’s time” holy shit finally lol. you all have been camped out over here for weeks now. not that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy each and every second of Miruko’s one-woman murder show, but it is nice to finally check in with you guys over here so we can get to work at last and I can get a better feel for who’s about to die. cuz someone here is dying guys

the chapter is called “I wanna be with the others!!” so. this is gonna be a Kaminari chapter isn’t it. I wonder what fresh new traitorous hijinks he’ll be getting up to this week. that detestable scoundrel

Mineta is being all weasel-y and reluctant, and honestly, I’m a bit annoyed. and for once it’s not directed at him! it’s like... how do I explain it. okay, so like, the manga is showing him being all cowardly and clearly not at all happy about being out here, and the fact that it’s Mineta doing it only adds to the general flavor of this being the wrong attitude to have and just a really shameful way of acting in general, because it’s Mineta and we all know Mineta is vile and so clearly he’s in the wrong here! the only thing is though, I actually don’t blame him even if he’s being a little shit about it, because the kids absolutely should not be here in the first place. are they strong? fuck yes. are they gonna end up being the ones to turn the tide once everything inevitably goes to shit, and thus the others are really goddamn lucky that they’re here? probably. does that make it right to conscript kids and send them out here to a soon-to-be war zone which the adults have very little control over meaning that some of these children will almost certainly be injured and traumatized and possibly even killed? nope! not right at all! no amount of “plus ultra” can justify this, folks. and “we get that it’s wrong but that’s just the fucked up times we live in” doesn’t actually justify it either, even if the HPSC seems to think so

but having said all that, there’s clearly nothing to be done about it at this point, and I’m about to enjoy this chapter of the kids presumably kicking ass even after all that whining, so I’ll just carefully climb down from my soapbox now. but I’m still keeping it handy just in case!

who the fuck is this Thundercats guy who looks like he was part of an old timey street gang in 1920s Chicago

lol can he hear the villain hotel being ripped in half over there in the distance

and speaking of hearing, Jirou is popping her earbuds into the ground to do some reconnaissance of her own I guess!

the heroes?? she better not mean the villains. oh lord I still don’t have the faintest idea how they’re planning on actually containing them all. well, brace yourselves everyone. here comes the shitshow

now Gangs of New York is making the most unnecessary speech in the history of this manga

were any of them actually going to be careless?? I’m pretty sure they understand the gravity of the situation my dude. and if they didn’t, I’d say that’s honestly on you guys and not on them because, again, they’re kids. and if you didn’t want a bunch of teenagers goofing off during your incredibly dangerous and vitally important do-or-die hero mission, then maybe you shouldn’t have brought a bunch of teenagers to your incredibly dangerous and vitally important do-or-die hero mission

“listen makeste are you just going to sit around all day bitching about my cardinal sin of daring to involve your precious little darlings in the actual plot,” the imaginary Horikoshi that sits around trying to keep these recaps from veering off track interjects. and okay fine

sob it feels wrong to see MomoJirou there without their Kaminari

(ETA: and there is Hagakure on the left, FYI. at least I think that’s her?)

their baby boy is all out there alone in the woods. is that why you were really listening, Jirou? you can tell me, I promise not to make a big deal about it

MOMO ARE YOU COMFORTING JIROU WHILE SHE OPENLY WORRIES ABOUT “TOKOYAMI”

I lied, I might make a big thing about it. what a beautiful March day for some OT3

MY INFANT SON!!

HE’S ONLY TWO YEARS OLD!! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!? MIDNIGHT YOU BETTER KEEP HIM SAFE!! at least until he makes it back safely into the hands of his friends, the League of Villains

meanwhile here’s a fun tip, this manga gets 100x funnier if you scroll back up to that panel of Jirou being all serious and saying “they’re on the move” now that we know that this outburst is almost certainly what she was listening to lmao. “oh, Kaminari is crying, that must mean they’re getting started”

and here they go!!

who is that in the witch hat?? COULD THIS BE THE LEGENDARY MAJESTIC, AT LONG LAST? this person looks like they cobbled together their entire hero costume from Sero’s bedroom. just ransacked it and draped all of his tapestries and throw pillows every which way over some Adidas pants. goddammit who is this person, I need to know everything about them right now

DAMMIT MIDNIGHT

HE’S NOT OLD ENOUGH TO MAKE THOSE KIND OF DECISIONS GODDAMMIT. HE IS YOUNG AND PLIABLE!! WHAT DID YOU DO, OFFER HIM CANDY. DID YOU PROMISE YOU WOULD TAKE HIM TO CHUCK E. CHEESE AFTER IF HE WAS GOOD

SON OF A BITCH ARE YOU GUILTING HIM

I DON’T LIKE THIS, MIDNIGHT. I MEAN, YOU ALREADY KNOW, IT’S NOT LIKE I’VE MADE A BIG SECRET OF IT OR ANYTHING. GUH

and he’s shouting back “no I don’t think you adults are pathetic at all!” while still looking terrified! goddammit how do I cast protection on a fictional character in a manga. I don’t play D&D, but D&D players can do that, right? how do I create a shield around my party. Kaminari you stay put while I try and figure this all out

lmaoooooo Tokoyami’s words of encouragement

A MAGNIFICENT FELLOW. you guys I’m gonna be honest, lately I’ve been enjoying these fan scanlations even more than the official ones at times. obviously Viz’s are fine and good, but sometimes it’s almost like they localize everything a little too much, you know? most people don’t go around calling other people magnificent fellows, but would Tokoyami? yes. yes he would. I believe this in every fiber of my heart

LMAO KAMINARI

“KAMINARI, I REALIZED WHEN WE WERE PLAYING GUITAR TOGETHER... WAY TO WHITE-KNUCKLE THOSE SICK FRETS, HALEN.” thank you so much for that Tokoyami but we are kind of in the middle of something so I’m not sure if right now is really the time to start asking my boy here for his autograph. after, maybe

now Cementoss is literally screaming “ATTACK!” and throwing subtlety to the winds

and now we’re back to this!

and it looks like this is most likely Cementoss using his quirk to tear the building in half! so that’s one mystery from last week solved! holy shit you guys I just realized we’re actually going to see Cementoss in action. so long as the environment is right, dude is a literal earthbender. we may be in for a rare treat

Skeptic is shouting at his minions to alert the Council. it’s okay, Cementoss already alerted them for you I’m pretty sure

so he’s sending Violet and Black to the front entrance, and Cleveland and Carmine to the Assembly Hall (where the Council is). these, if you recall, are the names of the various Vanguard squads, though I don’t recall who is actually on which squad and I really don’t want to go back and look it up... but fine!

okay, Twice is on the Black squad and Dabi and Otter Pop are on Violet. so they’re being dispatched to the front, while Toga, Compress, Spinner, and Skeptic himself (how convenient for you Skeptic) are heading to the Assembly Hall. isn’t that nice that Dabi is heading out to the front, where my son Kaminari “Clapton” Denki is. hahaha. fuck

Lefty Hair is now making a sudden appearance and giving Skeptic some threatening “you majorly fucked up and the only reason I’m letting it slide for now is because we’ve got bigger things to worry about” vibes, which I like. also he has a cigarette. it’s been a while since I’ve seen a manga character actually smoke a cigarette. I guess only villains are allowed to smoke them now

YOU GUYS LOOK HOW FUCKING RAW CEMENTOSS LOOKS HERE HOLY SHIT

HOW MANY PEOPLE IS CEMENTOSS GOING TO KILL TODAY. place your bets. and is cement stronger than fire. please don’t die Cementoss

YOU GUYS HE FUCKING SLAMMED THE FUCKING BUILDING OPEN LIKE ARAGORN OPENING THOSE FUCKING DOUBLE DOORS IN THE TWO TOWERS. I KNOW YOU CAN’T ACTUALLY SLAM A DOOR OPEN BUT ARE WE GOING TO SIT HERE AND ARGUE SEMANTICS ALL DAY OR ARE WE GOING TO KEEP READING??

ARE WE EVEN ALLOWED TO HAVE THIS MUCH BADASSERY IN A CHAPTER THAT DOESN’T HAVE MIRUKO IN IT. LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY FORGOT TO INFORM THE BADASSERY GUILD THAT THEIR UNION MEMBERS ARE WORKING OVERTIME. I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS METAPHOR I GOT TOO EXCITED

by the way I like how a key part of their “let’s contain all the villains” plan was to open up their secret HQ and spill them all out like a bunch of ants. everyone knows this is the best way to keep people contained. instead of stationing people outside of every exit, let’s just make the entire building into one giant exit and MELEE AWAY ALL YOUR PROBLEMS

who died and made Lefty the smartest guy in the room

if only they had all listened to you, Mister Smart Guy. you’re so smart. why didn’t they put you in charge. probably just because they were jealous

booooo it looks like Black and Violet are attacking but Twice and Dabi are nowhere to be found! because they’re part of the Council?? boooo

Best Sweaterist can do anything a sweater can do. it’s not a very good power. everyone was all “you look like the number 3 hero you must be really strong” and so she got promoted waaaaay above her skill level and it’s too late for her to do anything about it now so good luck Best Sweaterist

finally some people from the League!

but where is Hawks? AND WHY IS DABI HEADING THE OPPOSITE WAY AS EVERYONE ELSE HOLY SHIT

LOL HAWKS YOU BEST MAKE YOURSELF SCARCE MY DUDE. OH FUCK

(ETA: Dabi is either going to arrive just in time to save Twice, or just in time to witness Hawks murdering him, and I’m not sure which would be worse.)

OH MY GOD EDGESHOT GOT A LINE

I CAN’T FUCKING WAIT TO HEAR THIS WITH MY OWN TWO EARS IN THE ANIME. IT’S GONNA BE SO GREAT AH MAN. but real talk, Miruko should be above him in the power rankings. I’m sorry I don’t make the rules. but unless you kill three Noumus within the next few pages here I’d say it’s pretty clear cut

OH NO MY SIX-YEAR-OLD SON, MY POOR BABY, HE LOOKS SO FRIGHTENED NOW. LIKE GENUINELY AFRAID-FOR-HIS-LIFE FRIGHTENED AND NOT JUST COMICALLY FRIGHTENED OH MY GOD I CAN’T

Kaminari you sweet little lamb, it’s going to be okay. you just take a deep breath and zap some of these PLF fuckers and then you can go run and hide and you’ll be playing tacky arcade games and eating hit-or-miss-quality pizza before you know it

Kami is actually in a lot of danger here what with how helpless he gets after he uses too much of his quirk though. (unless of course you subscribe to the theory that he doesn’t actually go dumb at all and that’s when he’s secretly transmitting his traitor messages to the zetans.) whose fucking idea was it to put him on the front lines, honestly. he’s only four!!

fuck me, Midnight sees him panicking and she’s being all soothing and encouraging while also being ridiculously sexy as usual. dammit Midnight

hey Kaminari if you want to think about Momo and Jirou I’m not going to complain, I just want you to know that. you can even make it all platonic by just saying “my friends.” either way is fine and I will respect your smokescreen

ahh he’s turning around and the camera is zooming back to the woods where the rest of 1-A are!

the title of this chapter is becoming surprisingly meaningful!! well played!

WOW

I don’t even know what to say?! I basically just slapped both of my cheeks and said “AWWW” out loud?! would you fucking look at these two bisexual icons living it up in this the year of our lord 2020. what a blessing

oh hey this guy decided it was time for him to talk again

okay Kami I give you permission to go pikachu on his ass. go ahead and show us why the heroes went ahead and violated ILO conventions in order to bring you here

don’t tell me this guy is also an electric type. lol who could have guessed that, there were absolutely no clues at all in his hairstyle or anywhere else. I would definitely have noticed something like that because I definitely pay attention to these things lol

(ETA: and presumably the heroes knew the identities of the Vanguard squadron leaders thanks to Hawks, and knew they had to have some sort of plan in place for this guy’s quirk, hence them being all “hey Kaminari let’s talk.”)

anyway

OH SHIT YOU GUYS KAMINARI IS ABOUT TO BE A BADASS!?

MOTHERFUCKER WAS THAT A SHOUNEN WOOSH???! whaaaaaat oh shit everybody brace yourselves

and now a Tokoyami flashback to the two of them jamming like little hero Hendrixes

because he prioritized the health of his fingers beneath his desire to learn the guitar to help his friends perform, you realized he was truly a magnificent fellow. aw shit it’s all coming together

yep

look how evil that smile in the last panel is. clearly the traitor. probably this other electric man is his dad

USING AN ELECTRIC ATTACK AGAINST ANOTHER ELECTRIC TYPE CLEARLY WON’T WORK AND THUS THIS IS ONLY A FAKE ATTACK DESIGNED IN ORDER TO MAINTAIN HIS COVER!

LOOK HOW EVIL HE IS

HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN A FIVE-YEAR-OLD HAVING THIS KIND OF RAW FIREPOWER UNLESS HE’S SECRETLY EVIL!??!

OH MY GOD I LITERALLY SAID “OH MY GOD” VERY LOUDLY IN REAL LIFE AND NOW I’M HOPING MY NEIGHBORS DIDN’T HEAR HOW LOUDLY AND EMBARASSINGLY I SAID “OH MY GOD”

FUUUUCK

just. it’s like this weird and crazy feeling that’s a combination of adrenaline and chills-rushing-up-your-spine. that’s the sensation of clicking to a page and suddenly seeing the thing we fucking knew was going to happen, but just because we knew doesn’t mean we actually wanted it to happen, shit

holy shit. does Jin have to die in order for the heroes to succeed? probably. do I want it to actually happen? NO. am I suddenly reevaluating every single thing I thought I knew about Hawks and mentally updating Jeanist’s presumed mortality status in my head?? yes. are Hawks’s eyes here going to give me nightmares for the entire coming week? also yes. am I really unsettled wondering if those eyes were the last thing Jeanist ever saw? listen why do you keep asking me all of these intrusive and deeply upsetting questions like I’m some kind of magic 8 ball?? am I going to be on the edge of my fucking seat now waiting for next week? fuck

[outerspaceisbetterthannothing]

I told ya I’d be back for more wolf requests!! Here I am!! Can ya hit me with some more alpha cal in any scenario you wanna write? Love u lots and hope you’re having a good day! 💙

Hey, Eve! Once again, thank you for sending this and I’m so so sorry it took me more than a year to answer it, hope you don’t hate me for that. 

I’ve wanted to write about Andy for a long time. So here’s a story of his becoming a part of the pack and explanation of his deep loyalty to Calum. Hope you’ll enjoy.

***

Calum was slowly relaxing. Driving on a highway always had this effect on him, and his best mate on the passenger seat speaking a thousand words a minute was only adding on the effect. He couldn’t quite understand what had been going on with him these last couple days. There was no visible reason for him to be that off. The pack was alright, their with Ashton business was alright. And even Emily had finally started looking if not happy then at least content. Everything was absolutely normal in his life. And still he’d had this feeling that something was about to happen. And he didn’t like this feeling.

“Anyway, I do think this shit went fucking perfect,” Ashton kept filling the void. “You really impressed them, boy, with that confidence of yours,” he chuckled. “Good job.”

Calum huffed. “We’re still at major risk, Ash,” he reminded his friend. “The deal is huge and if we don’t provide the amount of sales that is expected, we can lose everything.”

“Yeah, and when we do provide it, which we will, don’t wanna hear any shit about it, we’ll be able to buy the second shop,” Ashton continued. “Fucking second shop! Fucking awesome!”

Calum chuckled finally, not able to resist his friend’s optimism. He was just about to inform Ashton, how wonderful it will be not to see his face every day, when something on the curb drew his attention. 

“What the…” he mumbled, pulling over. 

“Why… why do you stop?” Ashton asked him, but Calum was already getting out of the car. 

They were on the border of the city they came to for the meeting with a supplier. Dust of dry industrial area wrapped Calum as soon as he left the car. The second thing he sensed were the wolves. He smelled them only when he got closer and quite frankly felt relief. There were eight or nine of them and what looked like a fight from the car in reality turned out to be a beating of a weak one. Had they been humans, it could have been a problem for him and Ash because of their number. But it was much simpler, two alphas against some betas and a couple of pure bloods. The advantage was on his side, and betas did understand it too. 

“Hey, you, the fuck is going on here?” Ashton’s voice sounded from behind Calum. 

But even that was unnecessary, as those jackasses stopped kicking their victim and froze, surprised they were interrupted and startled by the anger on Calum’s face. His furious look said more than enough as they fled in a matter of seconds. 

“And what do we have here?” Ashton caught up with him. They were standing over a young male omega, curled in an embryo pose to protect at least some parts of his body and massively covered in a disgusting mixture of blood and dust.

Calum bent down and tried to find pulse on a thin tattooed neck.The omega tried to fight his hand off, but the attempt was too weak. However Calum got the proof that the wolf was still alive and even in conscience. 

“What’s your name?” Calum hunched down. 

“Fuck off, man,” the omega moaned back, slowly rolling on his front. 

“Sure, buddy,” Calum stood up and looked at Ashton. “Gimme a hand.”

“Of course, we gonna help him,” Ashton sighed bending down on the other side of the guy and helping Calum put the omega on his feet.

“You’d rather we leave him here?”

Ash rolled his eyes, “Couldn’t even dream about it.”

The change in orientation brought the omega back to reality. 

“The fuck are you doing, man?” he mumbled, thin blood stream going down from the corner of his mouth. 

“Helping you, man,” Calum huffed, as they with Ashton dragged that wolf closer to their car. 

“Don’t need your fucking help.”

“Right. Can you stand?” they leaned omega with his back on the car door and stepped back a little. The wolf was skinny and lanky, pitch black hair in a messy uneven haircut, a black tattoo on the neck and a couple more on his arm. He looked more like a teenager from an extremely bad district rather than like a grown up wolf.

“Course I can stand,” he spitted some blood right in front of them and started to sink down slowly.

“Whoa, easy, buddy,” Ashton caught him in the middle and helped up again. “So what we gonna do?” he asked looking back at Calum.

Younger alpha sighed. “And what d’you think?”

“Right,” Ashton gripped the omega tighter and mumbled to Calum, “The door.”

Soon they were back on the road, the omega lying on Calum’s backseat, no music on to lighten the mood. Both Calum and Ashton were thinking about the same. The city they’ve just left was no pack territory, too spacious and crowded for the big number of wolves to live there safely. But the outskirts of it were a favourite place for the scum from the southern packs to do their disgusting deeds. Although attacking another wolf like that in the open so early in the day was too much even for them. What could this omega do to deserve such treatment? Or were they just beating him up for fun? Just because he was an omega? What bothered Calum the most was that the omega didn’t act like he was new to such treatment. 

“Tell me,” the wolf called from the backseat, his voice hoarse, “how did I get so lucky to be saved not by one, but two alphas?”

“Guess it’s the best day of your life, honey, so you better remember it well,” Ashton retorted. 

“Don’t get me wrong, man, but I did have a couple of days better than this.” A low moan followed these words as the omega tried to move a little. 

Calum’s grip on the steering wheel got tight. No matter what this wolf had done, no one deserved that. 

“Could you, please, call Robert and explain everything?” he asked Ashton under his tone.

“Sure, when we get closer to home. Not sure he’s already on shift,” Ashton nodded.

About three hours later Calum pulled to the hospital building, tall grey-haired doctor already waiting for them outside with a gurney and two nurses. 

“Hey, doc,” Ashton dropped, as they with Calum got out of the car. “Ladies,” a smile to the nurses. Calum only nodded to Ashton’s wolves.

“How bad is he?” the doctor asked them as both Ashton and Calum helped to move the omega from the backseat of a car to the gurney. They weren’t sure if he was unconscious or just asleep, but the bleeding had stopped somewhere along the way and they were pretty sure they heard his ribs crack from getting back in place.

“He’s healing pretty fast,” Calum explained, “but I’m more concerned about some of his old injuries not being treated well. Something tells me he’s been beaten up quite often.”

“We’ll check everything,” the doctor nodded. “I’ll be needing his name for the chart.”

Ashton and Calum shared looks, but said nothing.

“Did you ask him for a name?” 

“Yeah, we did,” Calum sighed.

“And what did he answer?”

“Fuck off, man,” Calum quoted watching the nurses taking him into the building.

“Not sure I’ll be able to put this in the chart,” doctor mumbled. “Fine, will be a John Doe for a while. Are you coming?”

“No, Robert…” Ashton stopped abruptly as Calum entered the building, following the nurses without sparing them another word. “Ookay, I’ll put it this way. I won’t be staying, but Cal obviously will. Thank you again for your help.”

“That’s my job, alpha.”

They shook hands and Ashton left, taking Calum’s car shamelessly.

It was late in the night when the omega woke. He wasn’t surprised, shocked or even confused. Calum was right, this wolf wasn’t new to waking up in strange places after being beaten up. 

Calum was sitting in an armchair, mindlessly scrolling his phone. He had enough time to take a nap while the staff took care of the omega. 

“What am I doing here?” the omega asked, his tone more cautious than aggressive.

“Being treated,” Calum explained the obvious and switched off his phone.

“From what? My wounds must have been healed themselves already.”

“Those you got today most definitely,” Calum agreed calmly. “The doctors are checking those you got before that.”

“There’s nothing to check.”

“Let them be the judges of that. Now, could we, please, have your name?”

“You don’t get it, do you? I don’t need this checking. I need to get out,” the omega tried to get a catheter out of his hand but was too weak even for that. 

“What’s your problem? I’m just offering you some help,” Calum frowned.

The omega leaned back on the pillows and looked at the ceiling. “And who’s gonna pay for your help, huh? Not everyone can afford staying in hospital even for one night, you know.”

“You don’t need to worry about that. Now…”

“Is it some kind of charity for you?” the omega interrupted him, his voice full of anger and offence. “Helps you sleep at night, knowing you’ve saved some poor lost soul?”

Calum closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I really don’t like the way our conversation goes.”

“Well, that’s too bad.”

“What’s your name?” Calum roared. He didn’t mean to use his alpha voice, it just slipped. 

“It’s Andy,” the omega swallowed and closed his eyes. “It’s all the same with alphas, isn’t it. You just take what you want cause you can, everything else doesn’t matter to you.”

Calum sighed and stood up, his arms crossed on his chest. “I don’t know what alphas you’ve seen before, but I can promise you I’m not like that. And I’m sorry, didn’t mean to order. Your stubbornness just makes me angry.”

“Oh, I beg you pardon, didn’t mean to bother your precious peace,” Andy clowned.

Calum sighed again, hand on the chin. He was looking at the omega, thinking if there was any chance he’d get the information he was craving. The omega was obviously uncomfortable under his stare, but didn’t say anything, looking into space. 

“I didn’t mean to order,” Calum repeated again slowly, “but the fact that you obeyed means that you don’t have an alpha. And you don’t have a pack.”

“Seriously, man, why don’t you just fuck off?” Andy mumbled tiredly.

“Do you have a family at least?”

“You think any family would have a packless omega?”

“Some would,” Calum arched his brow. Those last words said to him more than anything. Andy was obviously from one of the southerns packs. He was excluded, probably as soon as he’d ascended, if not before that. He’s never seen a normal life. And Calum dreaded to imagine a family that raised him.

“Dunno in what fairy tale you live, man, but in real world none would,” this only confirmed Calum’s ideas. 

The alpha sighed again and caught some movement in the dark hall. Michael came up to the door and stopped there.

“Doctors wanna monitor you for couple more days, check the concussion you got about a year ago and some inner organs, so I would really appreciate it if you don’t make it a problem for them,” he informed Andy, ready to leave.

“Don’t count on that,” the omega shook his head. “The moment I wake up in the morning, I’m out of here.”

Calum only smirked, imagining that lunky omega standing against his best pure blood, but left without saying anything else. 

The room was empty in the morning though. Calum looked around, not actually getting anything. The bed was undone and Andy’s clothes still on the armchair. But the omega was nowhere to be seen just as Calum’s pure blood. Did they take Andy for tests?

“Try checking the roof.” 

Calum turned back to the voice. Robert was standing behind him, studying the chart carefully. 

“Why the roof?”

“Have no idea. They’ve been yelling at each other with Mike, then I asked them to find some better place and then I saw them going up,” Robert closed the chart and looked straight at Calum. “What about the bill?”

“Put it in my name, please.”

“Calum,  I understand that as an alpha you feel responsible for more than just your pack, but we’re talking hundreds of dollars, thousands if he stays longer, you can’t just…”

“What about his concussion?” Calum interrupted the doctor, trying not to look him in the eye. Was he doing it because he felt responsible as an alpha? Maybe. Was it stupid? Definitely. Could he not help that guy? Absolutely not. 

Robert sighed and answered his question, “Not that bad, to be honest. His liver worries me the most, but it should heal in couple of months. If he…”

“Doesn’t get in more fight,” Calum finished.

“Indeed. We’d like to keep him here till the end of the week, he’s still extremely dehydrated and generally exhausted. Apart from that, and not mentioning his mental state, there’s nothing to be worry about.”

“Thank you, Robert,” Calum nodded and was already on his way out. Then he stopped and looked back. He noticed how Robert didn’t even make an attempt to move, like he knew Calum would ask something else. 

“Could you share your ideas about his mental state, please?” the alpha asked quietly. 

Robert nodded as he was expecting this question. After all Calum was known among the older wolves of both packs as the kind of alpha not to be embarrassed to ask for an advice or an opinion at least.

“He’s seen some horrible things in life,” Robert stated, Calum now looking him straight in the eyes. “I take it he’s been forced to things and mistreated more than enough and therefore he would push back. Softness and patience should be your main companions here, but it shouldn’t be hard for you, Calum. And also, he’s quite closed and overprotective about himself. Not sure if that’s because he just doesn’t know how to be the other way or if he’s hiding something.”

Calum nodded again in silent gratitude and headed to the roof. Both Andy and Michael were there. Mike was standing near the door to the staircase and the omega leaned on the railings near the edge. 

“I said guard him, not the door,” Calum chuckled, shaking Mike’s hand.

“Nah, he won’t jump, alpha,” Mike shook his head, smiling.

“Sure?”

“He’s headstrong, not stupid.”

“I can actually hear both of you, morons!” Andy shouted back at them.

Mike and Calum smirked. 

“Doc said you with him were yelling,” Calum asked.

“The omega wanted out of the room. Said he felt suffocated.”

“Still do!” shouted Andy. Calum laughed to that. He patted Mike on the shoulder. “Thanks for tonight, go have some rest.”

“Are you sure, alpha?”

Calum smirked back at his pure blood. “Said it yourself, he’s headstrong, not stupid.”

Mike chuckled and left the roof.

“So,” Calum called on Andy, coming closer, “are you gonna jump?”

“And what do you think?” Andy looked at him jokingly. Calum could feel something changed in him, couldn’t only understand what or why.

“I think,” he started carefully, “if you wanted to be dead, you’d have already kicked the bucket in one of those fights you’d been in.”

Andy smirked but didn’t say anything.

“Did you really feel that uncomfortable in the room?”

Andy huffed. “Dunno if it was because of the room or because of your puppy.”

“Michael can seem like a nice guy to you, but he’s most definitely not a puppy,” Calum huffed. 

Andy looked up at him, the corners of his lips twitching in an attempt not to laugh. “Do you have any idea what he was doing the whole night?”

“No,” Calum admitted, sensing some catch.

“He was watching anime! The whole damn night!”

Calum was looking at Andy totally confused. Andy was getting more and more confused with every other second in return. 

“Isn’t it some japanese animation?” Calum decided to clarify in case it starts making sense to him.

“Yeah, exactly,” Andy confirmed, though it wasn’t much of the help for Calum. 

“Well, what’s wrong with that anime?”

Andy looked dumbfounded. 

“Wait, I’ll say it again. Your pure blood, who got a direct order from you to guard me, spent the whole night watching some cartoons.”

“Yeah, that I understood. Still not sure what you think it should mean,” Calum admitted. 

“He was ordered to guard me,” Andy repeated.

“Well, he succeeded, didn’t he? You’re still alive and you’re still here. I think Mike did fine,” Calum shrugged and turned to the town beneath them. 

“So you were honest last night, weren’t you?” Andy huffed.

“I try to be always honest,” Calum nodded. He wasn’t sure what the omega was referring to, but whatever it was, he didn’t care that much. If Mike watching some cartoons was enough to change Andy’s attitude, Calum was more than okay with that too. 

“This place looks nice,” Andy mumbled. Calum felt like the omega was embarrassed with his earlier words and promised never to remind him about that in the future. And he was sure there was some future for Andy in his pack. 

“You like it?”

“I like the trees,” the omega admitted. “There are lots of trees here.”

“Do you think you could stay here for some time?”

Andy sighed heavily and looked away. “And what would I do here?”

Calum felt like maybe he was a little too persistent, but decided to give it a shot still. “And what exactly were you doing there except of being regularly beaten up?”

Andy smirked and Calum held his relief hidden inside. 

“I have nowhere to live. Not sure you’d like a wolf sleeping on a park bench in your town. And I don’t have any money to pay the rent,” the omega continued sadly. 

“All I hear are just excuses, Andy,” Calum smiled.

“Not everything in this world is as easy as you want to believe, you know,” Andy bristlet again. 

“And why the fuck no?” Calum chuckled. “Can you work?”

Andy thought for a moment. “Well, I’m kinda not bad with fixing things.”

“That’s a start. There’s some work in the town, not much, but we’ll figure something out.” Calum nodded.

“Why doing this all? You know nothing about me?”

“Hey, I haven’t offered you a place in the pack yet, have I?” Calum tried to joke it off, but Andy kept looking at him with all seriousness. “I’m doing this because I believe I should help where I can. And you’re wrong when you say I don’t know anything about you. I’m an alpha after all. I know the breed when I see a wolf.”

He took the last look around the town and turned to the door. “Oh, yeah, the doc said you’re in till the end of the week.”

Calum tried not to laugh from the moan he heard from behind. 

He didn’t see the omega till Monday, when Robert finally agreed to let Andy go. 

“I know this car,” Andy smirked stopping in front of Calum, who was waiting for him. 

“Sure you do, it took some time to wash your blood away from the seats.” 

Andy rolled his eyes and reminded Calum of Ashton so much, it made the alpha smile. “I’d apologise, but it’s not like I asked you to pick me up that day, so…”

“Get in the car,” Calum huffed.

“So,” Andy started shyly as they arrived, “why are you picking me up and what’s this place?”

“What’s wrong with me picking you up?” Calum fished the keys out of his pocket and stepped to the door.

“I mean, your pure bloods could do that, or even betas.” Andy shrugged. 

“Ah, they have a day off.”

“All of them?”

“Yup, Monday is an official day off for all the wolves. We call it alpha-does-his-shit-by-himself-day,” Calum smirked, stepped inside and turned on the light in his tiny hall. “ And this is my home.”

They walked in the living room and Calum pointed at the couch. “You’ll sleep here. I know it’s not much, but I’ve only one bedroom. The kitchen is that way. I’ve got not that many rules. Find a job, clean after yourself, don’t use all the hot water if you’re up first. That’d be all.”

Andy looked around in hesitation. 

“You brought me to your own home,” he said, half statement, half question. 

“Well, yeah, that’s exactly what I’ve just said,” Calum felt confused again. He understood he may had freaked the omega out, but he was prepared to that. He only hoped he didn’t freak Andy enough to make him run away. 

The omega kept looking around in silence. He looked like a wolf preparing to jump and Calum could only hope it wasn’t for an attack. 

“You wanna know why those fucker were beating me up?” Andy said finally under his voice. 

“I… I dunno,” Calum hesitated, taken by surprise. “Do you wanna tell?”

“I think you should know, before you actually let me stay in your house.”

“Okay.”

Andy swallowed. 

“You see, we don’t like those who are not like us,” Andy looked up at Calum in search for an agreement. Calum was only listening carefully. He couldn’t agree with Andy as he had no problems with those who were different and therefore didn’t see a reason to lie now. “At least most of us,” Andy finished with a huf. To that Calum finally nodded. 

Then Andy swallowed again. And then whispered something. So quietly and illegibly that Calum couldn’t work out what that was. 

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Andy sighed, closed his eyes and repeated just a tiny bit louder, “I’m gay.”

Calum felt both fury to those who made Andy ashamed of that part of him and unbearable tenderness to this young wolf. However he had no idea what he could answer to that, so he went on with the first thing that came to mind. “Okay. You hungry? I’ve got some pizza in the fridge.”

Andy opened his eyes and looked at Calum as if he was the most stupid wolf in the whole entire world. “Are you… I’ve just told you that I’m gay.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“So? Is that all the reaction I get?”

“I don’t know,” Calum shrugged in all honesty. “What reaction do you think I should provide?”

“Er, I dunno,” Andy replied as dumbfounded as Calum was right now. 

“Well,” the alpha mused, “when you know, we could come back to that. For now, pizza?”

“Yeah, would be great actually,” Andy finally nodded, following Calum to the kitchen. 

There was one more question that was burning in Andy’s mind that night, but he left it for another time, being more than satisfied with pizza, a stupid action movie and finally sleeping in an actual house. And when he found it in him to ask Calum why the alpha didn’t offer him to join the pack, he got exactly the answer he wasn’t ready for. Calum said that it wasn’t up to alpha choosing wolves for his pack. It was up to wolves choosing him to be their alpha. And if Andy ever felt like joining Calum’s pack, he would be honoured to have such a wolf. Good thing by that time Andy had already decided to stay a little longer in that town. Of course, not because of Calum. Just because he liked trees. And there were a lot of trees around.

***

taglist: @myloverboyash, @calumamongmen, @lfwallscouldtalk, @empathycth, @calpops, @talkfastang, @wastedheartcth, @ariannawoodxoxo, @dreamer-loves-lyrics, @fluffsshawn, @cals-cigarette, @easierfor5sos, @outlandishnerd, @talkfastromance4, @notinthesameguey, @bandsrawesome, @sunnysidesblog, @wheniminouterspace, @treatallwithkindness, @zhangyixingxing1, @madformichael, @c-h-i-l, @wildflowergrae, @whoaitsannerieke, @rotten-kandy, @hopelessxcynic, @spankthetrashcan, @theodora-howyoudoin, @xcarondimoniox, @clummycal, @vexxybexxy-blog, @fictionalfrustrations, @notsooperfect, @rbforsmileycal, @lmao5sosimagines, @wantirwinback, @acapurso, @thegirlallthebadguyswant, @quietlycalum

[pathetic-has-been-rockstar]

The bonfire surprise

Pairing: Crowley x reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo​

Square/s filled: Chestnuts; Sitting by the fire

Warnings: none

Summary: still set to enjoy every bit of winter and holiday traditions, you decide to bring Jack to pick up chestnuts. Crowley joins you on the most innocuous hunt of the year, bringing Juliet along to spice things up. Roasting chestnuts on Hellfire never looked so good.

Words: 3091

Beta: @raspberrymama​ (I’ll never say this enough: check out her works!)

this piece can be found on AO3, here! If you’re interested in the whole series, you just have to click here!

“So... are you coming or not?”

Crowley tilts his head a bit, then nods, looking at you. “You know... yes. Since we've been consistently saving this world, it would be nice to take a walk in it.”

You were surprised when he decided to stick around for Christmas, or at least until the brothers don't actively start to try and kill him. He declared he enjoys the mayhem he can create frustrating Christmas' plans, but you suspect that he's probably just bored by his temporary lack of employment. You give him a small nod.

“Precisely what I was thinking.”

“Great. Now... aren't you forgetting something?”

You run a quick mind inventory, but nothing seems to be missing. “... like what?”

“Like the kid?” Crowley suggests, falsely helpful.

“... oh, no. Jack's in the car from like ten minutes. He can't wait to go.”

Crowley sighs dramatically. “Oh, to be young and eager again. Is it far?”

“About twenty minutes from here... why don't you come with us? You can try and crush Jack's optimism while we go.”

“I can do it on site. I've got someone to pick up, if it's all the same to you.”

“Oh... sure. Of course.” You are slightly curious and, even if you would never admit it, slightly disappointed. You were hoping for some time with Crowley, but he seems to have framed the occasion like a good chance to do... well, anything else.

“Fantastic. I'll see you there.”

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yes, Jack?”, you answer after a second, emerging from your thoughts.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Why?”

“You are just very quiet.”

“I'm just... a bit tired, you know.” Of course you were quiet. You're dying to see who was so important that had to be picked up and brought to what feels like a family thing.

“Sure. So... how's it gonna be?”

Surprised, you throw a side glance at Jack. The kid is smart. “As it's always been, I guess. Why?”

“I've never picked up chestnuts.”

Of course. Of course it was about the chestnuts. You stammer a moment, trying to collect yourself. “Oh, it's fun, actually. You just have to watch out for the shells, actually. They're spikey, y'know. You put on your gloves, then we pick them up from the ground,and  check if there are holes in them. If they're whole we can put them in the baskets.”

“What if there's a hole?”

“Well, that means there's a worm inside. It's not a problem if you accidentally eat it, since it's basically lived inside the thing its whole life and it tastes like that, but... let's just try and avoid it, ok?”

“Sure. No point in killing it just because it's in the wrong place at the right moment.”

You smile, surprised by the tenderness of his heart. The whole argument about his nature before he was born it feels incredibly stupid, now. The kid doesn't even want to kill a worm.

“Precisely. Besides, it might mean that the thing is rotting, and we don't want to deal with the consequences of eating spoilt food. Why don't you put on some music?”

Jack literally beams at the idea. “Can I connect my phone?”

“Sure thing, kid. We have about half an hour to go, connect the Bluetooth and jam away.”

The rest of the ride consists mainly in Jack humming Christmas songs and weird covers of them, while you keep your eyes on the road and occasionally sing along with him.

Once you get there, you immediately spot Crowley. Seeing that he's alone, you tilt your head.

“Weren't you supposed to pick up someone?”

“I did.”

He whistles, and a second later two hellhounds appear next to him, wagging their tails. He smiles at you, clearly satisfied by your surprised expression.

“I'm confident you remember Juliet and Banquo.”

“I do. How... how can I see them?”

“Because I let you.”

“... oh. Thanks, I guess.”

Crowley hints at them with a swift nod. “Go ahead, touch them. I know you'd like to.”

Trying to play it cool, you kneel down and pat the head of Juliet. A second later, Banquo is rubbing his head against your arm, almost throwing you off balance. Crowley immediately notices.

“Banquo. Settle down, boy.”

The hound whimpers and draws back, immediately obeying Crowley, who gives you a satisfied look.

“I trained them myself.”

“I figured that much.” you fire back. Like anyone else could train those hounds to act like that.

You're distracted by Jack calling you. You turn and you see the bundle of scarf, hat and oversized sport coat wandering among the trees and picking up the burrs, only to let them fall again as soon as they sting him. Crowley raises an eyebrow, amused.

“Looks like the most powerful being in existence needs help with picking up some fruit from the ground.”

“... he's three years old.”

“They grow so fast, don't they?”

You turn your back to Crowley and walk to Jack. Juliet and Banquo run around, sniffing the leaves and acting mostly like normal dogs. You notice that, and turn to Crowley, who's been casually waddling around, following you and Jack.

“Why are they like these?”

“What do you mean?”

“They act like normal dogs.”

“They like topside.”

“Don't they have souls to collect, today?”

“They always do.” Crowley replies with a casual scroll of his shoulders.

“Then why are they here?”

“There are other hounds, you know. These two were just the most affectionate to me. In short, useless to dear mother, and very useful for my personal security.”

Of course, you don't know why they're there. You're not a hunter, after all, not in the truest meaning of the word. You've been dragged in there when you ran into Bobby, years earlier, trying to nick a book from your shop. You gave him the book in exchange for some explanations, and it turned out your years of eccentric reading made you pretty useful.

Bobby then started to call you for lore-related things, and it was only a matter of time before the hunters started to use your shop as a sort of base. You started to store magical items, too, and even faced a few monsters on your own. Not exactly your cup of tea, but fun. Crowley knows about this all, obviously. Everyone knows about it. His dogs are there because you are there. The idea of a human dear both to the king of Hell and the future God might inspire some unpleasant thoughts in rogue demons and monsters, so he doesn't want to take any unnecessary risk.

You only see the hounds sprinting away, running after a very lucky squirrel. The little rodent manages to climb up the bark of the chestnut tree just in time, escaping the fangs of the hellish beasts for a split hair. Crowley giggles happily next to you, apparently delighted.

“The dislike for squirrels must run in the family.”

“Yeah... Jack, honey, wait, no.”

Jack has started to climb on the tree, trying to reach the lowest branches, that are still a good seven feet above the ground. He really is a three years old sometimes, but you keep forgetting that. When he falls back on you, you are painfully reminded that he is a three years old in a fully adult body.

Before Jack can do it, Crowley helps you up, smirking.

“Everything fine, love?”

“Yeah, peachy.”

He chuckles and takes a dried leaf off your hair, then gives you an amused smile.

“Looks like you're enjoying yourselves, at least.”

Jack enthusiastically answers for you, then dashes away to inspect a new patch of dried leaves and fallen burrs. When climbing up the trees is finally off the table, you three keep walking in the woods and picking up chestnuts here and there until the baskets are full. You look at your clock, starting to feel the cold seeping through your clothes.

“We still have a couple of hours of good light left. Let's go back to the car, we'll make a fire there.”

“... a fire? What for?”

“Well, we... you know what? It's a surprise. Come on, let's go back.”

Jack smiles in excitement, then slows down, looking at you and Crowley. You walk closer than you did earlier, and you don't even seem to notice how the back of your hands touch while you walk. He's seen Dean and Castiel subconsciously trying to get closer just like that. He might be young, but he's learnt quite a lot about love and longing, and he's quite sure that he has a fine example of both lying right in front of him. He also has an idea about how to make that happen, even if he will have to wait until you return to the bunker.

When the three of you make it back to the clearing where you parked the car, you start looking around for some logs and branches to set the fire. You have some water and a couple of old newspapers in the car, so safety and the ignition are accounted for. You're still scouring the clearing through the growing darkness when Crowley clears his throat. You turn to him, expecting him to mock you for not having figured it before.

“... what?”

“I assume you're looking for something to start the fire.”

“Well, duh.”

He scoffs, not taking seriously your remark, and raises his hand, “Perhaps I could be of assistance. You know... hellfire and all that.”

“Oh, I... I didn't think of it.”

“I figured that much”, he echoes the words you spat at him earlier in a much gentler tone. You almost feel bad for treating him harshly, but you just can't help it. There's something about him and the way he treats you that makes you feel... uneasy, for some reason.

Crowley knows you well, by now, but he still hasn't found a way to unravel you completely. He was content when you sought him out in your sleep. You slipped through the sheets and held him, just like you did a few years ago, and you seemed pretty happy about it. You wanted to be close to him... and yet you seem very bothered by his presence, at times. Of course, this only makes him all the more curious to find out the key to decipher your weirdness. He doesn't like pending business, and you certainly are acting like one.

With a snap of his fingers, a bright fire starts burning a few yards away from the car, complete with a few logs to sit around it, and you look at it, fascinated like a child. Juliet and Banquo immediately recognize the nature of the flames, and go to quietly lie down next to them.

You start laughing and walk to the car, taking the castiron skillet and a couple of knives.

“What, no knife for me?”

You jump, surprised. He's definitely closer than where you left him, and you didn't hear him approach.

“Stop moving so quietly! I'll tie a bell around your neck.”

“Oooh, my own collar? Kinky. I might like that.”

You thank the darkness and the dancing lights cast by the open flames for hiding the redness creeping up your cheeks. You grab a third knife, flip it and offer the handle to Crowley.

“You know how to do it, right?”

“Love, I am a demon, not a moron.”

“Eh. Sometimes you can be both.”

He rolls his eyes, only mildly annoyed. “Care to make an example or do I have to take your insults at face value?”

You would like to answer, but your throat closes. The thought of that day in the Apocalypse world is etched in your mind, and you don't like to think about it. Luckily, you catch Jack getting close to the hounds with the clear intention of petting them, so you're spared from answering. You dash to him, worried.

“Jack, don't!”

Jack immediately takes a step back and looks at you, confused. “But they look so cute!”

“Yeah, but those are not fluffy animals. Those are killing machines, and...”

“And they're trained to behave around people who mean no harm to me. Go ahead, boy. They like scratches on their heads.” Crowley encourages Jack.

You survey carefully the scene, ready to spring into action, but Crowley was telling the truth. A minute later, Jack is sitting on the ground, scratching Juliet's head with a hand, and patting Banquo with the other, looking happier than ever.

“You think Dean will let us keep on in the bunker?”

You think about it for a second. There's not a strong enough word in any human language to express the way Dean would refuse the idea of a hellhound loose in the bunker. Hearing Crowley chuckle next to you, you're sure that he's thinking the exact same thing.

“I... I don't think so, Jack.” Jack nods, trusting your judgement, and looks at you.

“Right. So... what do I do with the knife?”

You sit down on the log next to his one and teach him how to lightly carve the smooth shell of the fruit with a X, so that it doesn't swell and bash while it cooks. When you prepare enough for the three of you, you pour them in the pan and set it on the fire, shaking it from time to time to ensure an even cooking.

Jack notices that your movements are steady, and studies you for a moment. “So... is it a Christmas tradition?”

“It’s more of a winter thing, not just Christmas,” you answer, “I used to go picking chestnuts with my grandfather, from November through December. Then we would cook them on this big open fire in the backyard of his country house. Not a fancy one, though. He was a farmer, so it was one of those old houses full of tools and handmade stuff. I really liked that place.”

“I bet it was amazing.”

You think about it for a moment. “You know what? It really was. And they kept loads of animals, too. He and my grandma would do everything at home, from scratch.”

You start telling Jack things you've never told anyone since you moved and started your new life. Meanwhile, you keep your eyes on the chestnuts, taking them out of fire when they're done.

You pick some pages from the old newspapers and roll three cones, then pour the hot roasted fruit in them. You offer one to Jack, and one to Crowley, who looks surprised.

“... for me?”

“Yes. I know you don't eat, but...”

He takes the cone from your hands, smiling.

“I still like the taste. Thanks, love. Very thoughtful of you.”

“Shut up”, you mutter, but you're smiling.

Jack encourages you to tell more stories about your family, and you hear the crunching noises coming from him slowing down progressively. When you look at him again, on the other side of the flames, you see him dozing off, still nestled between Juliet and Banquo.

You smile and throw your paper cone filled with discarded skins in the fire, watching it crackle, then reach out, trying to warm your hands. The air is cold, and it's totally dark around you, despite being only four p.m. You think about what you just told Jack, and a sting of nostalgia catches you by surprise.

You quickly blink a couple of times, hoping to chase those unexpected tears away, but you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright, kitten?”

You almost forgot about Crowley. Surprisingly, he didn’t say anything while you were telling your stories to Jack, but you don’t suspect he listened to every word you said. “I... yes. Just... I haven't thought about those things for a very long time. I... I'm just being stupid.”

“Oh, love. Don't. Actually, you made me remember a few things about my winters as a human.”

“... really?” You think you couldn't be more surprised, but you're wrong. Your amazement hits its peak when Crowley starts telling you about old Scottish traditions, and his experiences with them.

After a few minutes of chatting, you shiver, and inch closer to him. He doesn't move away, instead he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I suspect you like me just as a heather, love” he purrs right beside your ear.

“Who says I like you?”

You both laugh and stay quiet, enjoying the cold air, the warmth of the fire and the smell of smoke and roasted chestnuts filling the air for a while. You close your eyes for a moment, laying your head back on his shoulder. His cologne and the hint of sulphur hidden behind it always made you feel safe, and now that things are so different from what they were, you aren't even plagued by the question anymore. The ever-present question of what was going to come next, what was going to happen... how you’d lose him.

You sigh and open your eyes, looking at Jack, then move away from Crowley.

“You know... we should go back. It's dark, and I'm sure they're wondering where we are.”

“... I'll bring back the puppies and see you there, if it's fine with you.”

“It... it is. More than fine, actually.”

He brushes your hand, and you feel his warmth through your glove, then look at him while he speaks.

“Thanks for sharing those memories, love. I know they were for the kid, but... it was nice to hear them.”

“Actually… I'm glad you were here.”

For a moment, both of you stay still. You feel your heart beating faster when you look at him. The way the fire underlines his features, the sheer intensity of his gaze force you to shiver, despite being comfortable and warm. Crowley looks at you and can’t hold back a smile. It might be the moment he was waiting for.

Instead, suddenly panicking, you stand up quickly, feeling your usual shield going up again. You can't be too vulnerable around him, after all. And Jack… you must bring him back. You didn’t come all that way just to get all lovey-dovey with the former king of Hell. “Well, I'll see you back at the bunker.”

“Right. See you there.” Crowley mutters through his teeth and notices the sudden shift in your behaviour. He wonders if his efforts still make sense. Then, he watches you waking up Jack and talking softly to him, petting the hounds and making sure everything is fine, and he knows he just has to be a bit more patient.

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Thank you for reading! 

I truly hope you enjoyed this little story. Every kind of feedback is very much appreciated, just as much as likes and reblogs!

Please, do not repost or copy my works or part/s of it, not even if you give credits.

[amarantine-amirite]

Egg-topic Pregnancy

I lie in bed, warm and still. However, something nags at the back of my mind. Something I thought I'd forgotten. Something I hope to never remember.

Someone may or may not have overheard me call them a name.

I can't filter out unnecessary noise around me when I'm listening the way other people can. If I need to hear one noise amongst eighty others, I won't be able to hear it very well, if at all. It doesn't matter how loud or quiet the noise is. There have been times where I haven't been able to hear someone in a crowded room even if they were standing next to me. In the same vein, I've needed people to repeat themselves several times for me to understand something. If I'm lucky, then I end up actually processing what they said halfway through. If not, I wind up giving up and say something irrelevant or agreeing to whatever’s been said because I couldn’t hear and can't be bothered asking again.

Two years ago, in my fresher year of high school, I overheard two guys talking. I could have sworn the first guy called his friend “Juice Wayne”. I thought this was funny, so I told my friend Lourdes. We both laughed.

For two years, I had no idea what happened to Juice Wayne. Did he overhear me? Did he think I insulted him? Did that lead to his downfall? Questions like these made me deeply regret telling Lourdes that I thought I heard his friend call him “Juice Wayne”.

These days, I barely think about Juice Wayne. I don't have the time for it anymore. I now have other, more pressing things to think about, such as applying to college, school work, and dodging extracurricular activities that I don't like, and sneaking away to the ones that I do. These days, I have more important things to worry about than whether or not someone overheard a dumb comment I made to a friend.

Until now. Last night, the words Juice Wayne played in my mind on loop.

Back in November, we went to a Japanese restaurant with my mom's old college buddy Mason Channing and his son Phil to celebrate Thanksgiving. Mason was in town that weekend so his wife could run a marathon. Prior to this point, I had never met Phil. Seeing him kind of freaked me out at first. Something about him seemed so familiar. I swear I had seen him before somewhere, if only out the corner of my eye.

Even though he didn’t look familiar the way an old friend did, I still got flashes of deja vu. I hoped that this wasn’t the guy I called Juice Wayne all that time ago. I didn't want to ask. I mean, maybe he took it in stride, but what if he didn’t? Saying anything would just reopen a wound.

Just before the waitress came, Phil got up to go to the bathroom. The minute he left, I felt incredibly impish. I started to giggle. I had thought of something really funny. If the waitress came by, I would order him the grossest menu item I could think of.

The waitress came by our table. "So, what are y’all having?"

I looked her in the eye and said, "What’s the strangest thing you have on your menu?"

I could see the waitress struggle not to laugh. "Well," she said, "there is this squid egg" she said, pointing to a picture of a roundish, blue thing on the menu.

"OK," I said, "I’ll have dragon roll, and my friend who sits there will have that squid egg thing done super-rare" I gestured to the empty seat at the table

"OK" said the waitress as she gathered our menus.

The food came. Phil looked surprised when the waitress brought him the undercooked squid egg. To our surprise, he actually ate it. I think he only ate it to impress the two girls sitting across from us. Still, he gagged as he choked down the egg. I'm surprised he didn't throw up immediately afterwards.

I later found out that after Phil ate the squid egg, he couldn't shit for a week. It was so bad he almost considered going to the emergency room.

When the day came where he could finally "go", he wound up pooping out…a giant squid!

I remember blinking when I first got the news. I honestly didn't even think that was possible. Your stomach acid does a pretty damn good job of dissolving whatever you swallow so stuff like that doesn't happen. Because of this, there's no need to be afraid of a watermelon growing inside you should you accidentally swallow a watermelon seed. The acid in your stomach is strong enough to break down the watermelon seed before it reaches your intestines and has a spot to grow.

Everything aside, the whole thing really freaked me out. Something about Phil reminded me of the poor kid Lourdes and I nicknamed Juice Wayne. I think that's why tonight, I lay awake in bed worrying if Phil actually is juice Wayne, I’ve just screwed him over again. Realistically speaking, I should be more worried about how that squid egg survived the stomach acid in order to implant and gestate in his large intestine.

@wonderful-prompts

[nad-zeta]

Matchup (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。

Hi, can i ask for a ikevamp matchup? I like listening to music, though it can go both ways, my mood affects my music or my music affects my mood. I’m super close with my friends since most of them are my friends for 3+ years, so I’m not that great with new people, though I’m fine with those I’ve met once or twice before. I’m surrounded by close friends and family, so I can be as mischievous and as open as I want to be. I will only be open like that with people I care about, so unless I like someone I will put up a huge wall around them until I feel like I could trust them completely. That being said, I’m pretty strong emotionally, like comforting grieving friends, calming people down without being affected in any way, etc, and people say I give advices that actually works. I’m used to get things on my own, so I can either be a leader or the advisor, which I usually do when I want to be the leader but don’t wanna take responsibility for what I do 😅 and I may know what to do in every situation, but that doesn’t mean I know how to do it 😅

I’m also a lucky charm lol I dont know how but I’m pretty lucky, so my friends often want me on their group for projects and stuff like that or when people open up a new business they will invite me and my mom because somehow people think things go well because I’m around. And an extremely bad habit of mine is that I often take everything lightly, whether it’s getting into a fight or getting failing grades or pulling a huge stunt where me and my whole class working together to skip to get home faster from school (we succeeded every time 👀) maybe it’s because most things in my life have been pretty easy and I feel like I’m always in my comfort zone, and even if I face difficulties, they usually get done on their own so I became pretty optimistic naturally, and because of this people can relax around me since I don’t panic easily, or people get annoyed with me because I don’t take things seriously enough, whether it’s good or bad. And finally, I can have a change of heart EASILY but with a reason. Like, I can think you as the most important person who I care about, but once you betray me or do something I hate, idc I will throw you out of my life. Idc of I’ve known you for years, I can easily act like we’re strangers if l don’t like you anymore, and I usually stand on my ground unless other people convince me otherwise. After years of dealing with so many good and bad things, I have a lot of experience in many types of situations, so I know if something is legit or is it a complete lie. And even if someone usually lies or hides something from me I can understand them whether they give me their reason or not, because I’m understanding and can know the difference whether they blatantly hate me or genuinely can’t tell me about something, which is absolutely fine. I can stay away from you for years and still care for you the next time we meet unless you have a change of heart ❤

I’m sorry if it’s TMI or too little information bc I don’t often send matchup requests 😅 and thank you for doing my matchup if you decide to do this 😊

Hi hi, love! Thank you so much for the request! I hope I didn’t make you wait too long for it! I hope you enjoy it love and I hope you have a wonderful day! Hehe honestly I struggled to figure out who to match you with as at least 3 different people came to mind, but at the end, I finally settled for this special boy! Hope you enjoy it! 

I match you with……….Jean

The two of you don’t meet for a few days the first time you arrive at the mansion. At the news of your arrival, Jean thought it best to lock himself away as he didn’t want to expose such a pure light as yourself, to a monster like himself. He took a liking to you, the first time he saw your radiant smile as he walked into the dining room while you were introducing yourself to everyone. Except you never got a chance to see him, he turned around and went back to his room immediately, however, this didn’t escape the notice of the mansions big brother Napoleon. 

You were rather quiet and reserved, not really engaging all that much with the boys, your walls were on high guard to protect you from potentially getting hurt, besides you were only with the strange group of men for a month and then you had to go back home, so you didn’t want to expose yourself to unnecessary heartbreak. You had however taken a liking to Napoleon who was named your protector after Arthur tried some funny business with you. You worked hard and honestly, Sabastian had been thankful for such a hard-working, diligent colleague

You had been in the Paris of the past for a few weeks now, but haven’t really left the mansion. Comte had invited you to a big lavish ball that one of his friends was throwing and you decided it might be a fun experience. You ran down the mansion stairs expecting to see Napoleon, who was instructed to take you out to town to buy in Comte’s words “a dress fit for a princess,” however instead you saw a beautiful man standing to wait for you. You had heard about Jean but you had yet to meet him and now here he was before you, offering you an arm to escort you to town. You took his arm and the two of you were off to town. Napoleon had already made commitments to teaching the street children, and something inside him told him that you and Jean would really get along, so he stomped his way up to Jean’s room and asked his old friend to escort you to town. He was not keen TBH, but he could never refuse a request from his friend. 

The two of you walked around in silence neither daring to say a word. That, of course, was until you heard some street performers playing the most upbeat music. You followed the sound of the music, Jean trailing slightly behind you, when you came to a stop in front of the performers. You felt like dancing, the music was so uplifting, you just felt like dancing, laughing and soon your mood turned bubbly. The people around you started to dance to the music, you turned to Jean with stars in your eyes, “Jean, would you like to dance.” Honestly, it was more of a rhetorical question as before he could answer, you took his hands and started dancing with him. Jean had been to enough balls and banquets with Comte and Napoleon to know the basics. 

Soon he got into the swing of things and started twirling you around, and gently leading you, cause it was clear that you didn’t really know the traditional dances, being from the future. When the last note echoed through the street, you were laughing in delight, having the time of your life. You looked up at Jean and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his smile, it was absolutely radiant the way the corners of his mouth lifted softly to show you a gentle smile, and little did you know, no one had seen Jean smile since he arrived at the mansion. You were honestly in the best mood, so for the rest of yours and Jean’s shopping trip you talked his ears off. Jean didn’t know why, but he couldn’t help but listen to every word, all while wearing that soft fond smile. At the end of the day, the second Jean was back at the mansion his smile faded, and he reverted back as if remembering that he was a monster, he kissed your hand, “Good night mademoiselle, and thank you for a wonderful day.” You beamed up at him and thanked him for making the shopping trip so fun, you definitely didn’t miss that slight blush forming on his cheeks as he turned to move back to his room.

Since that day, strangely enough, you and Jean had run into each other quite often, although these run-ins were orchestrated by the former Emporer of France and the Lord of the mansion. Both had noticed a slight change in Jean after he went on that shopping trip with you and both agreed that you may be exactly what he needs.

For example one day you ran up to Arthur’s room as he yelled out in irritation. You burst through the door to see the most unusual scene before you, Arthur scolding a tiger cub. You looked around the room to see the manuscript of his latest chapters shredded on the floor, his curtains had been scratched to pieces, and the cub appeared to have been playing in mud before making his way into Arthurs room, as muddy paw prints covered the entire room. You placed your hand in front of your mouth to stifle a laugh, you never did take things too seriously, “Hey you, don’t you dare laugh, this is my life’s work”. You giggled a little and told Arthur to lighten up, but when Jean appeared behind you also trying to hold in his laughter at the way you never seem to take things too seriously, you burst out laughing. That’s when Jean couldn’t hold it back any longer and also started laughing, Arthur was sister shook he had never even seen Jean smile let alone laugh. You walked over to the tiger cub and scooped him up in your arms, then you walked over to the mysterious man and took his hand in yours. Before Arthur could even say anything, you bolted to the garden all while laughing. 

You and Jean then went on to bath the little tiger cub together, which ended in a bit of a water fight. When you were with Jean, all your walls were down, and your mischievous personality came out to play, especially when you saw this beautiful boy’s smile. By the end of the day, both you and Jean were soaked to the bone, both of you went to bath and retire to your rooms for the night. When all of a sudden you heard a knock at the door, it was Jean. He had brought you a cup of hot tea and thanked you for helping him clean up his tiger’s mess. You invited him into your room, he sat down awkwardly and looked around your room curiously, he legit had never been in a girls room before. It wasn’t long before the two of you started chatting, and soon dawn had broken, and you realized that you and Jean had been talking the whole night.

You never noticed it before, but you and Jean had spent every single day together since then, chatting and laughing about everything and anything. He loved that you seemed to possess all the luck of the universe and that you would always come to his aid when Arthur was beating him at one or other board game. You would legit team up with Jean and let your luck take care of the rest. Thanks to your incredible luck Arthur had lost a bet to you and Jean and now had to wear his underpants over his regular pants for a week. 

Jean was feeling so confused and overwhelmed with all these new feelings, he had never really known love before having met you and all of it felt so new. One day he decided to tell you how he was feeling, you were always so good at giving out advice, and your presence always had the ability to calm all his fears and anxieties. Once he finished telling you about how he had been feeling towards you lately, you gave him the biggest hug, “I love you to Jean.”

Jean loved your naturally optimistic personality and your ability to bring so much joy into even the saddest of moments. You were always there for him, to reassure him whenever he was having panic or anxiety attacks. He absolutely loved and adored you and had sworn his life and loyalty to you. 

He loved that you never took things seriously, as all he did was take things seriously, so it was like a breath of fresh air to have someone around to help him balance his overthinking mind. After the two of you got together, Jean told you everything, from his dark past to the fact that he saw himself as a monster, undeserving of your love. He legit thought that you were going to push him away and leave him but instead, you kissed him and told him how much you loved him. 

You loved that Jean was always open and honest with you and completely loyal to you. He was also your voice of reason when it came to cutting people out your life for wronging you. The two of you balanced each other out perfectly.

Both Comte and Napoleon were overjoyed that Jean finally found someone to open up to and who loved him unconditionally. You helped Jean heal from all his past traumas and made him a better man. 

Jean loved spending time with you, this soft sweet, sensitive boy would shower you with love and affection from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to sleep. He would often surprise you with breakfast in bed, or drop a small chaste kiss on your lips whenever the two of you run into each other in the hallways

The two of you absolutely love just being snuggled up together chatting about your day. Jean loves to hold you in his strong arms and nuzzle into your neck as you sit in his lap and read. Often the two of you can be found in a coffee shop holding hands and reading. On rare occasions, the two of you can also be found pulling pranks on some of the mansion residents as payback for the pranks that they would pull on the two of you. 

Ultimately Jean is most happy when you are resting in his lap after a long day of housework. He would pull his fingers through your soft silky hair and send up a silent prayer to God thanking him for sending him his own lovely guardian angel, to love, hold and cherish for the rest of his life

Other potential matches………… Napoleon 

I hope you enjoyed it dear! 

@miss-wish-a-lot