#Apologies for making you wait awhile for an answer to this. I wanted to devote my full attention to it.

[hoxooster]

have u ever felt burnt out from payday ? you’re a long time fan so it’s kind of crazy you’re still talking and posting abt the game to this day

Yes, actually, many times.

Like, the major catalyst for me no longer caring about Payday's lore--and I mean to the point where I didn't care about what happened in the story and I never bothered to do a deep dive into anything or even speculate anymore--was when my buddy, Wolfee, went AWOL after the first Dentist trailer dropped. He was gone for a little over 2 months, 'cause his parents took all of his tech stuff: phone, tablet, laptop, et cetera. So, I really had no one to gush about shit with for a long while.

Then OVERKILL became progressively more... OVERKILL. And I mean more like current day OVERKILL, 'cause they used to be different when Ulf was there. They had a lot of missteps where they were outright rude to their fanbase, made a lot of stupid financial decisions (thanks a lot, Bo), and have just gone in a weird direction with their game overall. PAYDAY 2 has felt... strange, ever since Ulf left, and even more so with Simon having walked away.

And, ya know, with all the damn DLC, it's been really easy to get burnt out on PAYDAY. Especially when you're one of the older fans, where you gotta see all this new, weird shit come out and just be like, "Huh?" all the damn time. It's tiring, but I'm still here.

Not gonna lie, it's mostly just 'cause I'm used to doing this. I've been PAYDAY blogging since January 28, 2014, so I've dedicated almost ten damn years of my life to these games. I have seen so much shit happen in this fandom that'd it'd take me weeks to list 'em all. I've met a few of the big players, some of the moderators and old time modders, and quite a few of the people who've made something for OVERKILL to use in their promotions and things. I know so many random tidbits about the games and the characters and the lore and the company and the fans that I'm practically an encyclopedia of knowledge for almost everything PAYDAY-related.

And through it all, the moments of distaste and distrust in OVERKILL, the loss of friends as they drifted away to other interests, the ever-shifting nature of the games into something weirder held together with spit and duct tape, the overflow of content, and the base confusion that I feel with a game I barely recognize anymore, I have remained.

I'm a dinosaur in this fandom, as has been pointed out to me many times. I have my moments where I'm a jaded, crotchety, cane shaking, old man, but I still love this game and its fandom. I may do this mostly out of routine, but another part of me does it out of thankfulness and love. PAYDAY set me on a path that allowed me to meet so many interesting people and do a lot of cool things.

It came at the right time in my life to save me, and I am forever grateful to it for that, even if I do have my issues with it. So, I shall remain here, ever faithfully cataloguing PAYDAY stuff and guiding anyone who asks me for advice. For, after all, I am the Torchbearer of this fandom. XD

#ask hoxooster a question #PAYDAY 2 #PAYDAY: THE HEIST #PAYDAY 3 #PD:TH #PD2 #PD3 #personal stories #Y'all're lucky. I caught myself ranting about my opinions for current PD2 and realized that I went off track. #Deleted 6 big ass paragraphs. #Anybody who KNOWS me is aware that that's just a *thing* I'll do though. #I can complain forever and I can get really singularly focused on explaining my opinions on things. #It makes peeps annoyed at me sometimes and gets me in trouble in others. #But damnit I have a lot to say. #long post warning #Apologies for making you wait awhile for an answer to this. I wanted to devote my full attention to it.

[anon911andbuddie]

Prompt: Ravi injured himself and has to stay man behind for a bit. He’s surprised and then grateful when Buck goes above and beyond taking all care of him at work and even showing up at his place. Eddie get a bit jealous and the rest of the team are curious about Buck’s behavior. Ravi asks him one day and they overhear Buck wishing someone had given him such assurances when he was recovering. Eddie and firefam realize they could’ve done a better job being there for Buck. Buddie

I know it has been awhile since anyone answered a prompt but I couldn't resist this one. A bit shorter than my usual but I wanted to get it out. Hope it's worth the wait. - Scarlet 📕

It's not a chore if you're a friend

Buck tries to warn Ravi but it's too late. The strap that had improperly secured the load on a truck that had been in a crash snaps. Thankfully, the cargo only shifts, the strap the team had placed for just this type of occasion caught the pallet. But it didn't stop the original strap. And Ravi had been just a bit too slow to get out the way. The strap hit the younger firefighter across the chest and shoulder. The buckle ends up breaking his collarbone. 

Buck and Eddie are quick to haul him out of the way. Buck apologies because that has to be painful as they do. Hen is there to check him over. But Buck hovers. Eddie has to drag him back to secure the scene. By the time the wreck is cleared Ravi is already on his way to the ER. They load up and head out to check on him. 

Buck volunteers to stay with Ravi. They offer to do shifts but Ravi’s mom took over, but Buck came back after his shift to give Ravi’s mother a break. The probie repeatedly tells Buck he's fine and the firefighter should go home. Buck isn't having it. He says he's there to help. Even offering to run and get them something decent to eat. 

Chimney teases Eddie that the probie might be stealing his bestie, since Buck usually only makes that big a fuss over Eddie. Eddie brushes him off. But he argues it's just Buck being Buck. 

Ravi remembers what Hen had told him about Buck when the probie had first joined. It might be the painkillers but look back now it seems silly. Because Hen was right. Everything Buck does is because he cares about Ravi. He is a devoted friend who has been there every step of the way. Especially now. Even Ravi’s mother cannot believe how supportive his teammate is. She is proud her son has such a good friend. It helps her feel more confident in her son's well-being on the job. It was honestly amusing how much Buck was going above and beyond to make sure Ravi is okay. It was annoying at moments, but he means well. So the probie tries to stay focused on that. 

Eddie is a bit irritated when Buck cancels on him to help take care of Ravi happens a lot while Ravi is off duty until he heals up. 

And Ravi’s first shift back is a celebration, the usual 118 welcome back. But Eddie is getting increasingly annoyed. Buck had spent half the shift fussing over Ravi. Buck is quick to take up any task Ravi is given. He takes the grunt work the probie usually gets stuck with. And Eddie thinks it's overkill. 

Ravi worries that Eddie might crack a tooth with how tight his jaw is clenched. The older firefighter was obviously irritated with how Buck was acting. Ravi had been thankful that Buck had helped with the cleaning. Ravi may be back to work but every now and again he'd reach for something and his muscles would pull just the wrong way and ache. Most, if not all, of his teammates understood. They all had injuries on and off the job. Especially Buck and Eddie. Those two were like accident magnets. So the fact Buck was so quick to help him made Ravi remember why he was glad the 118 accepted him back. He hadn't screwed up his shot at working with what is well known as one of the most tight knit houses in the department. Once you are in, you are IN. And apparently they had decided Ravi was in with or without his knowledge. And Ravi appreciates it now. But the way Eddie is acting makes him doubt that this is just how Buck is with everyone when they come back. He is tempted to ask Hen, but with as close as he has gotten with Buck, he just goes straight to Buck.

“Why are you being so nice, Buck?” Ravi asks. “Not that I'm complaining, but I'm cleared for duty. And you've already been there since it happened. You even have my parents’ numbers in your phone.” 

Buck shrugs. “I just know what it's like to be where you are. When I was initially recovering from the truck, I had help. And when I came back, well, I just wish someone would have helped me. Had my back. So…” he shrugs again.

“Oh, thanks, Buck,” Ravi smiles. Buck heads off to empty the bucket of suds from helping wash the truck. Things get a bit awkward when the probie turns around to see a few members of the team in the truck bay. Eddie looks like someone had punched him in the stomach and Chim’s brows were furrowed. Eddie quickly leaves. 

When Bobby and Hen ask what happened, Chim tells them. And it was like someone had dimmed the lights in the station. It felt gloomy. 

Eddie feels stupid. He'd been being a jerk again. And Buck was just proving again that he is the best of all of them. As usual.

Bobby makes Buck's favorite dish for dinner because he feels bad. Hen and Chim are quieter than usual but just as helpful, if not more so than usual. 

If Buck notices how things have shifted he doesn't mention it. His focus is still on making sure Ravi feels supported. And it just makes Eddie feel worse. Eddie approaches Buck as the younger man gets ready to leave. 

“I've been a jerk,” Eddie says.

Buck turns and looks at him. The shocked look on his face gives the former medic confusing feelings. Something that has been happening more and more as time goes on.

“To who? Why?”

And Eddie should be surprised that Buck hasn't even noticed how the he and the team had been acting. 

“You, Ravi, in general.” 

“Me? What? Why?” Buck asks then gets this look on his face as if he is going over every interaction with Eddie. 

And something in Eddie shifts as he stares at this beautiful and oblivious man. The one he already co-parenting Christopher with. The one he gets irrationally jealous over when anyone takes his attention from him and Christopher too long. He thinks about how petty he gets when Buck is dating anyone and yeah. It's obvious to him now.

“Why?” Eddie repeats. He looks around, glad that most of A shift has cleared out. “Because I miss you.”

“Miss me? We work the same shift, and we had dinner like…”

“Last weekend, I know, but it's…it just is. No excuse.”

“So you've been a jerk because I don't spend everyday with you?” Buck asks, amusement clear in his tone. 

“Yes,” Eddie says without hesitation. 

“Okay, wow,” Buck chuckles. To give himself a moment to process that he grabs his bag from his locker. 

“Dinner tomorrow?” Buck asks, his pulse beating a bit faster than it usually does when they make plans. Everything had changed in such a short conversations. But he's a bit scared to say it out loud. 

“Christopher will be thrilled,” Eddie smiles. And Buck gets the same feeling he always gets when Eddie smiles at him or brings up Christopher. It's a confusing combination of somehow going home but also wanting. 

“Good, because I did promise him that penne dish Bobby gave me the recipe for.” 

“Bring it all over, he loves when you guys cook together.”

“He's not the only one,” Buck says fondly.

“So, see you tomorrow,” Eddie says as he closes his locker. His truck keys in hand. 

“I’ll be there,” Buck grins, he watches Eddie leave. 

Ravi had caught the tail end of his friends talking. The fact that those two were clearly made for each other and they are both oblivious about it was amusing. 

“Sounds like you're in for a busy day off,” Ravi says.

Buck tries to shrug it off but the slight tint to his ears betrays him. 

“Well, you've earned some fun,” Ravi admits. “Been stuck taking care of me.”

“Helping a friend out isn't a chore, Probie,” Buck assures him. 

“Well, I appreciate it anyway,” Ravi insists. “But, you should just tell the guy you missed him too.”

“I think I might,” Buck admits.

#by scarlet #tw: injury #tw: jealousy #tw: guilt #118 firefam #ravi panikkar #evan buck buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #prompt fill

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Hi! This might be something that everyone knows already, and if it is, sorry for that! I've been away for a while. But what happened to the political a/b/o? Or was it just an idea with a little bit of flesh on it and now it's transformed into the enemies to lovers a/b/o that you have written the summary for?

And write whatever you want whenever you want! It's nice to have something to wait for! It's going to be good anyway.

Hello my dear! Sorry this took awhile for me to answer, but please never apologize for asking about my writing! Truly, it’s quite self-indulgent but talking about it really makes my day. Hehe.

So, the Political Unrest A/B/O is quite high on my To Do list (#3 behind GAPT AU and Widow Satellite fic) but as I’ve mentioned before, I’m pretty intimidated by the trope. I think to do a “big” A/B/O fic (not to mention a more complex plot to go over top the romance) you need to be confident in the world you choose to build and the dynamics of the trope you take along with you.

Since I’ve never done A/B/O before, I wanted to dip my toe in the waters. I thought I might be able to do that with the Bridgerton AU, but it again felt pretty big because of the language and the Regency era. So, I thought of yet another prompt (I know, I wanna strangle me too) — the Untitled A/B/O, which is pared-down and more focused on the physicality, sensuality, and dynamics of HL.

All of this to say, there are 3 planned A/B/O prompts in my head and exactly zero are written. 🙃🥲 I hope I get the courage (and time!) to devote to them soon.

#iaw ask #iaw anonymous #iaw A/B/O fics #political unrest a/b/o #🐺 iaw untitled a/b/o

[shoyomp3]

comforting u when ur stressed<3

genre🍓: fluff, slight angst

pairing🍓: nishinoya x gn!reader, tanaka x gn!reader, sugawara x gn!reader, hinata x gn!reader

warnings🍓: reader not taking care of themselves, reader getting angry and yelling 😀🥴, terrible writing and ✨typos✨

word count🍓: 1.8k

desc🍓: you’ve been stressed because of school and you haven’t been taking care of yourself. your boyfriend has noticed and tries to make you feel better

author note🍓: lol fuck school 🤯🥴 also send requests if you want but just an fyi i’m not that familiar with most characters and it’s gonna be harder to write for them but i’m fine with everyone from karasuno 😭😭

nishinoya yuu (401 words)

you guys used to go on dates every week and would hang out almost everyday but lately all you’ve been doing is studying. you had a few tests coming up and a few missing assignments. it was almost the end of the year which meant that everything was due.

you stayed up all night to study and work. you devoted all your time outside of school to your books. you barely ate, barely slept and barely had any human contact.

when you walked into class you looked exhausted. you looked weak. you didnt look like yourself. everyone noticed this especially noya. he tried to talk to you and get you to relax but you would just walk away from him and review things.

he came over to your house one night, wanting you to stop and eat a meal and sleep. he walked up the stairs to your room, knocking softly on your door.

“y/n? can i come in?” he spoke quietly in case you accidentally fell asleep.

“...yeah...” your voice sounded so drained. he slowly opened your door, stopping when he saw you hunched over your desk, books and papers everywhere. his heart shattered. he walked over to you, softly turning your head to look at him. his eyes scanned over your face, noticing the dark circles, the tear stains, the tired look in your eyes. it hurt him to see you like this. all he wanted to do was hold you and let you know it was okay, that the tests didn’t matter, that you could relax.

he pulled you into his arms, squeezing lightly. “do you wanna take a break?” he pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” you slid out of his grip and turned back to your work only to be pulled away. you were being dragged to your bed.

“noya? what are you doing?” you asked confused.

“i’m making you relax and you will not fight back. you can’t treat your body like this. i know you want to do well in school but you need to take breaks sometimes”

he threw you onto your bed and collapsed on top of you. you two stayed like that for awhile until he started giving you small kisses all over your face.

“do you want something to eat? i can order whatever you want”

“nothing right now. i just wanna stay with you”

tanaka ryunosuke (420 words)

he waited at the restaurant for an hour. you never said you were gonna be late. you never texted or called him. he got tired of waiting and tired of the embarrassment so he got up and left.

he went to your place wanting an explanation. he knocked on your door a couple times without a response. he called your name. no response. eventually, he got out his spare key, letting himself in.

the place was in total darkness except for a small amount of light coming from your room. he opened the door slightly, wanting to know what was happening. he saw you at your desk crying. there was paper all around you. on the floor, on the desk, everywhere. some of it was scribbled over, some torn to pieces. it was a mess. he took small steps in your direction not wanting to make his presence known just yet. he lifted his hand and tapped your shoulder.

“y/n...are you okay?”

you quickly wiped your face, turning around and forcing a smile.

“i’m fine! what are you doing here?”

he looked at you with a disappointed expression. you forgot about the date. he looked into your eyes and saw how bloodshot they were. he saw how much pain you were in. your smile started to falter.

“we had a date. you didn’t show up so i got worried and came over.” he crouched down next to you “are you sure you’re okay?”

your breath got caught in your throat. you knew he’d be able to see through your lie. so why would you try and do it?

“i’m fine. nothings wrong. i’ve just been a little behind on school and we have tests coming up. i’m sorry i missed our date.”

he looked at you for a few seconds before pulling you into him. he rubbed your back and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“please...tell me the truth” his voice was calm.

and that’s when you broke down. you started sobbing into his shoulder. crying about how the stress of school has been too much for you. about how you were scared to fail or not get things in. how you couldn’t handle it anymore. he let you cry for a while before pulling back. he brought his hands out to your face and wiped your tears. he gave you a soft smile.

“everything’s gonna be okay. i promise. lets just take a little break so you can calm down. if you need any help i’ll be here”

sugawara koshi (463 words)

you kept canceling things with him. every time you two made plans, you canceled last minute coming up with a stupid excuse. he put up with it for awhile but it started to hurt. he got scared. were you cheating on him?

you canceled on him again. he kept calling you but you would never answer. he got tired of it and decided to see what you were doing.

he rushed over to your place, saying hi to your mom as he ran to your room. he swung your door open, startling you.

“s-suga? why are you here? i thought i told you i couldn’t make it...”

“you’ve canceled every date we’ve had for the past three weeks and i’m kinda tired of it. i want to spend time with you but you keep blowing me off. i thought you were cheating so i came over to see if you were or not”

you looked at your fingers, playing with them. you didn’t know what to say. you felt bad for canceling but you felt hurt because he thought you would cheat on him.

there was an awkward silence but it was ended by soft footsteps coming close to you. you felt a hand on your chin forcing you to look up.

“why have you been canceling our dates?”

you stayed silent. you didn’t want him to know how you haven’t been eating that much or sleeping. how many breakdowns you’ve had. you didn’t want him to worry.

“i...i don’t know”

he let go of your chin, letting out a deep sigh. he knew you were lying.

“y/n please tell me. i won’t be mad. i just want the truth”

you kept saying that was the truth and he kept saying it wasn’t. it went on like this for about 30 minutes before you cracked. you started sobbing and telling him what’s been happening. you told him that you didn’t wanna be seen as stupid because you kept failing quizzes and tests. you didn’t want to embarrass him. he pulled you off your desk chair and into his lap. he wrapped his arms around you, softly squeezing. he rubbed his hand down your back trying to calm you down.

“you’re perfect for me. you could never embarrass me okay? you’re not stupid, you’re not an idiot, you’re perfect. please tell me these things next time. i’m here for you. i’ll help you. you’re not alone.” he gave you a kiss on the forehead.

he pushed you off his lap and stood up, grabbing your hands and pulling you up with him.

“we’re gonna go get something to eat and then we’re gonna come back here so you can sleep. you need to stay healthy and strong. i don’t want anything happening to you.”

hinata shoyo (600 words)

you two were always hanging out. there was barely any time you spent apart. you loved being around him and he loved being around you but recently, you’ve been...distant. its not that you don’t love him or that you’re getting annoyed by him, you’ve just had a lot of schoolwork to do.

shoyo didn’t notice you not hanging out at first but eventually he noticed you spending less and less time with him. it hurt him. it made him feel like you didn’t want to be with him anymore.

he started to not answer your calls when you would call him (which was rarely!!). it hurt him to do it but if you wanted your space he would give it to you. he got tired of this tho. he missed you and missed being around you.

he got your favorite candy and favorite flowers. he made his way to your place, knocking on your door and greeting your mom. he went straight to your room, bursting in like the ball of mf sunshine he is.

you have been extremely stressed out and irritable lately. school hasn’t been the best for you. you fell behind in most of your classes and the work got harder. it took you longer to finish things which is why some of them were marked as missing. you’ve been trying to make it all up but it’s been a lot for you. so when shoyo came in all happy it annoyed you. you weren’t in a good enough mood to deal with him so you snapped when he tried to talk to you. you screamed at him and said some things you didn’t mean. things that hurt both of you. but you couldn’t stop. he started arguing back and then you told him to leave. you didn’t think he’d actually do it and you definitely didn’t think he’s be gone for this long.

you admit what you did was wrong but you couldn’t help it. that was the last straw. you felt bad but how could you apologize? whenever you saw eachother in the hallways he would always walk the opposite way even if he had to go in your direction. even if you were able to catch up with him he would ignore you and pretend like you didn’t exist. he wouldn’t answer your calls or texts. you didn’t know what to do.

you waited outside the gym until practice was over, hoping to catch him on the way out. after a long time it finally ended. you watch everyone walk out. everyone except for shoyo. you went up to daichi to ask where he was.

“oh hey y/n. he went home sick. did you not know...?”

you thanked him for telling you and ran towards his house. you knocked on the door, waiting for it to open. after a few minutes it opened to your boyfriend. his usual smile not on his face.

“why are you here. are you gonna yell at me for ‘bothering you’ and ‘being too clingy’ again?”

his words stabbed you like knives but you understood where it was coming from.

“i-i came to apologize.” you started crying “i was really stressed and everything was bothering me and i know that doesnt excuse it and i know you probably won’t forgi-” you were cut off by him hugging you.

“remember to breathe.” he held you closely, making sure you were actually there. the past few days were hard for him but he didn’t want to upset you again. you two made up and ended the night in cuddles and movies.

anyways that sucked 😀

tags (dm or send and ask to be added): @yourdaddychan @noyatonic @sunacor3 @yanjeongs @lov3ric @hotelhaikyuu @satosimp

#🎈mine #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #hinata shoyo x y/n #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata fluff #sugawara x reader #hinata x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara koshi x y/n #sugawara angst #sugawara fluff #hinata angst #tanaka ryunosuke x reader #tanaka ryunosuke x y/n #tanaka fluff #tanaka angst #haikyuu angst #nishinoya yuu x y/n #nishinoya yuu x reader #nishinoya fluff #nishinoya angst #noya fluff #noya angst

[killuwumi]

Hi, I could ask for scenarios and headcanons for dazai, chuuya, kunikida, akutagawa, when I have an argument with my s / o and they don't speak to each other for several days. how it is reconciled and after how many days. thank you very much☺️☺️☺️😁😁😁😊😊

How They Deal With Arguments 

Warnings | Kinda Fluff

a/n: thank you for requesting! this will be my first time doing hcs so I hope this is everything you wanted! :)

Dazai

-I don’t think Dazai could stay away for long, so I say he’s gone maximum 2 days.

-Arguments are not uncommon between the two of you, but usually they are silly little fights over brands of coffee or what music to play in the car.

-This time you had an especially bad week, and Dazai was always missing, sometimes not even at work. Which left you to worry, and that exploded into a serious argument.

-It left you angry and lonely because Dazai went out after the argument to clear his head.

-After 2 days he would probably come back home, burst through the door and apologize profusely.

-Of course he would have brought with him whatever you like, ex: teddy bears, flowers, candy, balloons, hell maybe even a puppy or something.

-Really anything he thinks will get him out of the 'dog house' so to speak. He really is sorry that he was gone so much, but the time he gave you to cool off and think ended up working well in his favor.

-The night probably ends in much needed snuggles on the couch and snacks.

-He can't stand the thought of the one he loves most being away from him for too long.

Chuuya

-Our favorite Port Mafia gravity man.

-Chuuya having a s/o was surprising to begin with, so he might be a little lost on how to make up after an argument.

-He doesn't like conflict with you, because his life is full of it already, and the peace you bring him isn't meant to be interrupted with petty arguments.

-However, Chuuya is well.. prideful. So if you press the right buttons he'll be gone for 4-5 days. Usually just doing mafia work to keep his mind off you.

-This argument was about the Port Mafia actually, and how you recently disagreed with it's actions. But expressing that to Chuuya came out the wrong way and he took a hit to his ego.

-So when he comes back, given that you don't do it first, his apology will be muttered under his breath and he'll make up for it in spoiling you.

-Chuuya clearly likes the finer things in life, from his probably expensive clothes to his definitely expensive wine, he wants to share that kind of life with you.

-So to make up for it, its gift giving, buying you a new outfit or something you really wanted. To top it all off, wine, and a nice dinner. (Probably made by him, at home, I headcanon him to be a good cook tbh).

Kunikida

-Kunikida does not get enough attention, imo. Anyways-

-I say he'd be gone for 3 days at max, although not by choice.

-I think it would probably go that the two of you have an argument and work calls, meaning he'll be tied up for a few extra days.

-He's organized, and precise, so I'd say he isn't unfamiliar with taking time for himself, especially after always having to deal with Dazai.

-The argument would probably be over something in your future, since he's so planned out. You had other things in mind however, and this caused him to panic. Maybe you both said some things you didn't mean and it got out of hand.

-"Maybe if you weren't married to your job, and we had more time together, I wouldn't be so fussy over what we do!" You would say, and he would probably fire back that you knew what you got into when you got together with him.

-But he is a reasonable man, and you love each other, so he wasn't going to let this get in the way.

-As soon as he could get back from his work at the ADA he would come home to you, and apologize loud and clear, probably with a long hug.

-Kunikida would make it up to you by going on a walk with you, under the stars, to just talk. Or be silent, whatever you liked.

-With his hectic life he enjoyed the peace and quiet sometimes, but discussing things with you was one of his favorite things to do, that he didn't get to do enough.

-The next few days he would probably pay close attention to how you're feeling, to make sure his apology sealed the deal. He's really glad it didn't turn into anything bigger than a simple argument, because he really would've wanted to apologize sooner.

-He might invite you to the office on a slow day so you could be around him more, especially in the days after, to really make sure you spend quality time together.

-Kunikida might be married to the job, but he's devoted to you.

Akutagawa

-Another busy boyfriend, and another Port Mafia favorite, Akutagawa.

-Much like Chuuya, having a s/o is EXTRA surprising. I think after an argument he could take a whole week to apologize, so unless you wanna speed up the process, you better be ready to wait.

-Akutagawa is always busy, but he won't ever turn you out of his office if you just want to sit and read or whatever. If he's let you close enough to date him, you can stay in his office at least.

-I think he's protective, probably doesn't like when you go out too much without him because he's worried about you, but doesn't know how to properly express that.

-He might have someone go with you, to escort you around when he can't be there, but more often than not you're with him, because he can't trust you in the hands of anyone else.

-At some point though, you get the wrong idea and think that he might not trust you, so you get quite angry at that thought and take it out on him.

-He's confused, because isn't that how you show someone you care for them? Being around them? He might not understand what you took his actions as, but he knows you're upset.

-You probably stormed out before he had time to respond in fear of his answer, expecting to not see him for awhile, you just went home.

-However, Akutagawa was working on figuring out what happened, and it took a few days of talking to Gin to figure it out. But he had work to attend to, so he came around in about a weeks time.

-He probably came into your house unannounced, and promptly hugged you, it was a little stiff, but you got the intention.

-I don't think he would come outright and say "I'm sorry" but maybe he would be more affectionate after he came back, which would be his way of saying sorry.

-Eventually he will learn to say he's sorry, and he'll make it up to you by spending the day doing whatever makes you happy.

-I don't see him as the type to go out, probably a more at home guy, but if it would make you happy, you can drag him along.

-Carnival time, that's right, I think it would be so fun to see this confused, edgy looking man riding the Farris wheel with you, but trust me he's happy to be back at your side.

-Cheats to win prizes, can't change my mind on that. By the time you get home Rashomon is carrying a billion prizes that Akutagawa "won" for you.

#bsd #bsdprompt #dazai x reader #akutagawa #chuuya #bsd dazai #kunikida #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs kunikida #bungo stray dogs x reader #arguments #ask #bsd headcanons #headcanons

[blackmissfrizzle]

Worth It- Pt 4

The Prelude- Part 1- Part 2- Part 3

Summary: The reader bumps into Marcel after their big argument

Characters: Marcel x black!reader, Sean (OMC) x black!reader

Warnings: Language but what’s new?

A/N: I’m back with our love Marcel! Finally!!!! I hope y’all enjoy.

“Man, you fucked up.” Vincent told a pissed off Marcel.

“Big time.” Haley emphasized.

Marcel looked from his glass of whiskey to glare at Vincent and Haley. They weren’t helping him feel any better. It’s been days since he saw or talk to you since the incident with Rebekah and your mom.

“Drowning our sorrows, are we?” Klaus came up from behind and clapped Marcel’s shoulder.

“The only sorrows that are drowning are Marcel’s. We’re just reminding him of how bad he messed up.” Haley said.

“What are you even doing here?” Marcel asked her.

“Waiting on some friends,” and on cue, Cami showed up and she left the three men.

“The little wolf is right, you know?”

Marcel eyed Klaus curiously. “So, you’re ok that my girlfriend almost killed your sister?”

Klaus shrugged his shoulders and took a seat. “She’s still your girlfriend? And dear Marcellus, Rebekah knew the risks. It was fitting for her to learn that lesson. Y/N is a precious gem. If I were you, I would’ve given her the world.” Klaus paused and then leaned towards Marcel. “Maybe I’ll have the chance now.”

Right when Marcel was about to throttle Klaus, you walked in. It had been days since Marcel seen you, heard you, or smell you; your presence was a sensory overload. Especially with the outfit you had on. He guessed Rousseau’s is your first stop for a night out, because you wore a black and tan corset crop top, black ripped shorts, and thigh high boots.

You were there with your sister and friends, and y’all met up with Cami and Haley. Once you got settled, Marcel got up and was about to walk to you, but Vincent stopped him. “Bad idea, Marcel.”

Marcel snatched his hand back. “That’s my girlfriend and I’m gonna talk to her.”

All talking ceased at your table when they saw Marcel approach you. His hand touch your exposed shoulder and you were pissed at how he affected you.

“Can I speak to you alone?”

Bianca ruined any chance of you answering. “Hell no! You think she gon talk to you after how you did our momma? Over my dead body!” Bianca was standing up and you had to push her down to her seat.

“Chill, B.” Turning back to Marcel, you said, “Yeah, we can talk for a bit.”

Marcel motioned you to walk in front him and he followed you to the back patio. “You look beautiful tonight.” Marcel said trying to fill up the awkward silence.

“What do you want, Marcel?” You didn’t have time to play nice with him nor did you want to.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve never stood up for Rebekah like that. I think I let my feelings about how your parents disapprove of us cloud my judgement, but that’s not an excuse.”

Two sides of your brain were fighting. The rational side said, “That’s reasonable. You even have beef with your parents, because of how they talked about Marcel.” The petty side was saying, “Nah, fuck that nigga and the bitch he let put hands on your momma.”

“Which side is winning?” Marcel joked, knowing you always had to fight your pettiness.

“I don’t know. It seems like Petty Y/N really wants to come out. She thinks she’s hearing a lot of apologies from you lately but seeing no action behind them.”

“Y/N, I-”

“Sorry to interrupt, but Y/N you better get inside because you-know-who is here.” Haley interrupted, her eyes pointing towards Sean.

Although, Rousseau’s was open to all supernatural beings, it was known to be Marcel’s spot for him and his vampires with only a few witches allowed to come, and Sean and his witches weren’t on that list.

“Stay here. I’ll get him to leave.” You had to put your hands against his firm chest to stop Marcel from going in and causing a scene.

Lust filled Sean’s eyes as you approached him. All you felt was his gaze roaming your body and you felt a tinge of guilt for the lust running through you.

Soon as you were in arm’s reach, Sean grabbed the back of your neck and descended his lips onto yours. His kiss was different from Marcel’s, but it was enjoyable, more possessive, rougher, and nastier. His hands snaked down your bottom and he gripped your ass. “You goin’ to stop playing games and let me eat that fat pussy?” He whispered into your ear.

“Damn, I think I’m wet,” Bianca mumbled off to the side, voicing your exact thoughts.

You felt a tug on your wrist, and it was Diego. He probably thought he was helping his friend, but that only was going to cause the scene you were trying to avoid.

One of Sean’s friends pushed Diego off you and then suddenly Marcel and Sean were in a face-off. This had to end before it got ugly. “Boys let’s not do this here,” you say, getting in between the two.

Neither one paid any attention to you, so you pulled Sean out while Haley, a true godsend distracted Marcel.

“What the hell was that, Sean?” You slapped him for starting all that drama.

He gripped your wrist and pointed a finger in your face. “I ain’t Marcel, so that’s the last time you’ll put your hands on me.”

You snatched your wrist back and paced back and forth the sidewalk. If you didn’t figure out something soon, those two niggas will kill each other.

“Damn, cher. I got a way for you to get rid of all that nervous energy,” Sean gripped your hips and pulled you back towards him.

Sean kissed the side of your neck and chanted a simple spell to help you calm down. The only thing is that you weren’t sure you wanted to calm down.

It took all of your energy to pull away from him, but you did. “Sean, you can’t be kissing me. Especially in front of Marcel and in his fucking hangout spot!”

Sean couldn’t understand why you were so stuck on Marcel. He definitely didn’t treat you right. Getting pissed off at your devotion to Marcel, Sean backed you into the wall and leaned dangerously close to your face to the point you could smell his minty gum. “Really? Ain’t you single now?”

Shit, he had you there. But you couldn’t answer the question. You and Marcel never verbally said it was over, you just walked out on him.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you contemplated your answer. You couldn’t come up with an answer, so dipped into Rousseau’s to ask a waiting Marcel a quick question.

“No,” was the only word Marcel said when he saw you.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask.” You whispered yelled at him.

“You were gonna ask if you’re single and the answer is no. We’re just going through a rough patch.” Marcel stared you down, daring you to challenge him.

Turning on your heels you walked away from him angrily. Damn vampire hearing, you thought.

Patiently waiting for you, Sean scrolled through his phone. “Well?”

“It’s complicated.” You answered.

Sean rolled his eyes at you and asked, “What’s so complicated about ending a relationship with someone who makes you a second option?”

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Sean? You’re just some random ass nigga that my parents think I should marry! Do me a favor and leave me the fuck alone!” You stomped away from him. Sean really pissed you off and if you were honest to yourself, which you didn’t want to be, Sean was telling you the truth. In the back of your mind, you were asking yourself the same question.

Catching up to you, Sean twisted your hips so you could face him. “Cher, you know I’m telling the truth. Lemme ask you something: can he give you you a family?”

Unbeknownst to you or Sean, Marcel slipped out the bar and was eavesdropping on your conversation. The talk about kids never came up, so Marcel never knew how you felt about becoming a parent.

“You know he can’t.”

“Do you want them? Because I can give you some.”

“So can a turkey baster.”

Sean chuckled to himself. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t want any.” Sean’s smile dropped at your admission. When he asked you that, he just knew you were gonna say yes. What woman doesn’t want kids? “So, besides your dick, what else do you have to offer?”

The switch up was almost immediate. “That vamp got you turned out like that? Pathetic. What if you change your mind?” Sean scoffed.

Another nigga who can’t handle rejection, what a shame, you thought. “What’s pathetic is you not being able to take no for answer. And if and that’s a big if, I change my mind. There’s this thing call adoption. Now do me a favor and run along before I melt your brain.” You smiled up at him, but it was anything but genuine.

Usually that did the trick and had men running along, but Sean stood there smiling to himself. The only other person who didn’t run in fear from you was Marcel. How did you end up being the source of attraction for two stubborn niggas?

“My bad. I let my anger get the best of me. Just know that I just don’t want you because our families want us together. I like you, Y/N. I like what you do for our community, I like that you’re not afraid to break the rules, I like that pretty ass smile of yours, and so much more. Before you make a decision, I want you to know that you’ll never doubt your place in my life. You’ll always be number one, cher.”

Sean tried to give you a kiss, but you turned your head and he kissed your temple. Knowing his presence was no longer wanted Sean walked away hoping you would make the smart decision.

Coming out from his hiding spot, Marcel got into your line of vision. The two of you just stared at each other for awhile without saying anything.

Marcel’s first step towards you made you speak up. “Me turning him down has nothing to do with us. Marcellus, I love you with all my heart, but you got some shit to fix. And until that’s done, I don’t know where we stand.”

Marcel said nothing. He just took it all in. Arguing with you would get him nowhere. So, he gave you a kiss and whispered, “I’ll be better.” Then he disappeared, leaving you alone, determined to get you back before Sean could carve a spot in your heart.

Tags: @twistedcharismaaa​ @l-auteuse​ @nightgirl250​ @cocooned-butterfly​ @thickemadame​ @artsninspo​ @titty-teetee​ @crystalgoddess00​ @pananegra​ @princessshanae14​ @rbhp @brownsugerhippy​

#black!reader #marcel gerard #marcel gerard x reader #marcel gerard x black!reader #marcel x reader #marcel x black!reader #marcel gerard fanfiction #the originals #the originals fanfic #the originals fanfiction #the originals fandom #frizzle writes #frizzlewrites

[sweatergirlsposts]

Imagine Billy asking you, his boyfriend, to come home to meet his family

Pairing: Billy Batson / Male!Reader

(A/N: I recommend listening to ‘No One Knows Us’ By BANNERS while listening to this)

Billy had been thinking about it for awhile now. You had kept asking to go over to his place, since you always had him over at your place, but he didn’t know if he was ready to come out to his family just yet.

In contrast to Billy’s family, your parents knew that you were gay from a very young age. One of the first signs was that you were interested in Shang from Mulan more than Mulan. At first they thought you were bisexual, until you openly came out as gay on your twelfth birthday. Of course your parents had to make some adjustments in how they see you but still love you no matter your interest.

When you started to bring Billy around your place, your mom would always try to be your wing-women, and you had to explain afterwards that just because you bring a guy around doesn’t mean you see him in that light. Billy was an exception. 

Billy knew you were gay when he first met you through school. You weren’t obvious but noticing the different mannerisms you’d have interacting with others he could put the pieces together. Billy was afraid that you’d find out that he was routing for the other team, for he didn’t want you to ask to confirm or tell his family. Another family he was with were very devoted Christians that were not the most open about being gay, so he did what he only could do; he ran. 

Before telling you that he was interested in you, as he liked to put it, he showed you his alter-ego. If you could handle that secret then he could definitely trust you to keep his secret, as well as your guys relationship.   

Being born into a world full of superheros did have an influence in your preferences in guys. Not that you didn’t have a crush on Billy already but when he told you that he was a gay superhero made your stomach do somersaults.

“I think it’s time that I at least come to your place Billy,”

“I don’t know (Y/N), I just think that it would be kinda obvious if I brought you to the house. I don’t know how Rosa and Victor will react to me or us,” Billy paced back an forth in his shared room, that was vacant at the moment.

As part of your guys daily couple ritual, you guys would facetime about each other’s day and express your love when he couldn’t come over. Today you decided to bring up coming over for the sixth time, but to no avail Billy was still very apprehensive about it. 

“Try talking to them, Billy, they are probably more accepting than you expect, hey they brought you in,” you cracked up.

Deadpanned, Billy just stared at you through the camera, “Ha ha, you’re so funny (Y/N). Can we just talk about something else”

“No because you keep avoiding it. I don’t want to nag on you Billy, I really don’t, but this means a lot to me. It may not seem as a big a deal as it is to you but-” 

“What do you mean this might seem as big of a deal to me (Y/N)!? I don’t want to risk the chance of me being kicked out of another family because of who I can be with and love. For once I have a family that ‘accepts’ me and I have it good here. You don’t have to fear about your family saying that they don’t want you and kick you out because you’re gay. You can’t understand, you have a family that you didn’t have to fear accepting you.”

You didn’t know how to respond to Billy’s statement. For Billy, your boyfriend, to underestimate the amount of fear you had coming out to your parents baffled you. Coming out on your twelfth birthday was one of the most challenging and petrifying things that you have ever done, and for Billy to say that it wasn’t hard to do so made you internally livid and hurt. 

“Billy, call me after you realize what you just said to me, and then we can talk. See ya around at school...,” you coldly countered and hung up the call. Immensely hurt by your boyfriends statement, you put your phone on your night table and decided to leave it for the time being and go do something else to distract you from your pain.

He really fucked up. Billy didn’t mean to put it like that. He just wanted to explain that he’s wants both you and his family in his life but if his family didn’t accept him then he’d move away. He couldn’t have both if things turned bitter.

Mad with himself, Billy decided that the only best way to get out this anger was to go fly for awhile. Making his way downstairs, he stumbled into Rosa on the last flight.

“Woah hey Billy what’s the rush?”

“I don’t wanna talk Rosa,” Billy put firmly trying to get past Rosa. 

“Why is everything okay?”

“That’s none of your business” 

Rosa didn’t like this. She’s noticed Billy’s mood swings in the last couple weeks, and have let it go, but she had to put her foot down at some point or another. That point was now. 

“Actually William Joseph Batson, it is all of my business if you’re living under this roof. I have been letting go these mood swings you’ve been having but now you have to tell me if you want to leave the house,” Rosa crossed her arms looking at Billy waiting for an explanation. 

“I can’t”

“And why is that?” Rosa still stood firm like a wall against deflections, she had to know. All Rosa wanted to know is if Billy was being safe. Billy didn’t answer.

“Billy I just wanna know that you’re okay. You really have been worrying Victor and I, honey. You sneak out at absurd times at night, you’re cooped up in your room talking to someone, you don’t tell us where you go after school and return at 10 o’clock. I’m running out options on how to help you and all I want to do is keep you safe Billy”

Billy could see the struggle to comprehend what was going on with him in her expression. Rosa made him feel the most comfortable in coming here other than Freddie. He found solace in Rosa after he found his real mother. In Billy’s eyes, Rosa was his motherly figure that he could depend on and really made him feel that he could come to her no matter the situation. 

“Can we talk upstairs.” Billy whispered in more of a suggestion than asking.

“Of course,” Rosa followed Billy back into the shared bedroom. Rosa sat in the desk chair while Billy sat on the bed across from her. Billy could feel his palms sweat and collect moisture, so he wiped his hands on his pants.  

 “What is it th-”

“I’m gay,” slipped out of Billy’s mouth too fast for Rosa to catch it

“Pardon?”

“You wanted to know what was wrong with me, I’m gay” Billy huffed feeling the pressure to his chest increase waiting for the blow of Rosa’s response, “You happy?”

It took a couple of seconds for it to sink in before Rosa’s instincts kicked in.

“More than happy Billy. I’m so glad you told me” Rosa got out of the chair and sat beside him to give him a hug, “but that doesn’t explain where you go after school”

“About that I have this uh friend-”

“A boyfriend!?!?”

“Well I’m not sure after tonight,” Billy grabbed his phone from his pocket to check if you left any messages. Nothing.    

“Well whatever you did, be sure to make it right. I want to meet this boy,” Rosa gives Billy one more hug before she stands up to exit the bedroom, “also Billy I’m surprised that you didn’t notice”

“Notice what?”

“That you aren’t the only one in this house. Pedro is gay too. No matter your preferences, we will always accept you in this house Billy, remember that,” Rosa consoled before exiting the room, leaving Billy to his thoughts. 

Throughout the next day at school you avoided seeing Billy. Of course you wanted him to reach out to you but at the same time you knew it would be better to have space from him. The last bell had rung for the day, letting everyone know that they had to vacate the premise. Once you had gathered all your items from your locker, you started walking to the exit but were then pulled into an empty classroom.

You bumped into a hard chest  which made you fall back onto your backpack. Looking up, from the ground, you see the person you weren’t expecting but still the same person you didn’t want to talk to at the moment. 

It was Billy.....but in his alter ego.

“If you are here to apologize to me Batson, it would be pretty ingenuine to do it as him.” 

“Well I need to get you alone somehow”

“That sounds really weird saying what you just said in this form Billy” you paused to expire, “I want to talk to you, the real you”

Looking down in slight shame, Billy whispered “Shazam” and reverted back into his true self. Your fourteen year old boyfriend made a step towards you but you stepped back. You weren’t going to give into his feel-sorry-for-me look. Seeing that you stepped away from him made it feel like you dropped an anvil down his throat, weighing him to his spot.

“I’m sorry (Y/N)”

You scoff not responding. Catching that a simple sorry wasn’t enough he continued.

“I’m sorry for saying that I said you couldn’t understand about being scared of being gay....”

“You should be”

“I was just scared that if I told my family about me and us that I would lose them and you” Billy paused and then carried on, “I told Rosa” 

“About you?” you finally piped up shocked at Billy telling his adoptive mother, who he’s told you that he’s closest with in the family other than Freddie.

“And about us. That is also another reason why I wanted to talk to you other than apologizing of course,” Billy stepped forward and you let him. He grasped your hands in his before looking into your eyes. 

“Since I told Rosa who is probably going to tell Victor, for which Darla is going to listen in on then she’s going to tell everyone, I wanted to ask you if would you like to come over and meet my family?” 

“I thought you would never ask,” you smiled, you were still mad at Billy but this moment could not be ruined by it. 

Billy leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, and his head tilted one side. You copied his movements automatically to go in for a kiss. But fate had to mess it up. 

You heard a gasp from the doorway. As soon as the door opened it was then slammed shut.

“If you guys are going to do anything in our room please close the door so I know,” Freddie called from behind the closed door

You laughed as Billy turned a deep shade red. 

“Let’s try that again,” Billy turned to you, slipping his hand behind your neck before pushing his lips against yours. The kiss felt as if it was the full apology that Billy couldn’t get through with his words and that’s all you needed. You will forgive and not forget, but in this moment you would.

There had been mistakes made along the way to Billy coming out but he was glad that they were made. He would have never fully appreciated the gravity of the situation if there was none made. Billy was fully content that he could keep his family and the love of his life, you.

MASTERLIST 

Request by @lavieroses-blog​

#billy batson #billy batson x reader #billy batson imagine #billy batson imagines #shazam #shazam imagine #shazam x reader #shazam 2019 #billy batson x male!reader #male!reader #reader #x reader #imagines

[dinoyoongi]

Confirm or Deny (3)

SYNOPSIS: You’re a member of the rising group FRNZEE. You’ve been dating Namjoon for years when Dispatch releases an article exposing your relationship. Your company confirms the relationship. Big Hit denies it.

PARTS: ONE | TWO | THREE |  FOUR

PAIRING: Namjoon x You

GENRE: Romance, Angst

WARNINGS: Language, brief mentions of sexual situations

WORD COUNT: 4473

AUTHORS NOTE: I’m not sure how many parts this will have - I’m just going to write until I’m satisfied and break them up in chunks. Please show it some love if you like it and want more! And yes, this is inspired by the very real “scandal” between iKON’s Yunheyong and Momoland’s Daisy.

__________________________________

Coming as a surprise to absolutely nobody, the news of BTS' Grammy nominations explodes like a million sticks of dynamite. The boys are not only featured on pretty much every media outlet across the globe, they're also receiving interview requests from elite news sources such as CNN and BBC News. Also a surprise to nobody is that you haven't seen Namjoon in two weeks, when you were kissing and twirling around the living room of your dorm before he rushed out after hearing the nomination news. He's sent you a few texts updating you on his many schedules but aside from a few insanely quick video chats, you haven't spoken much to your boyfriend. That's why when he calls on a rainy Thursday afternoon and tells you that he has a few hours free and wants to see you, you nearly break a leg as you hurry to get dressed, not wanting to miss even a minute of the scarce time you both have together.

By the time you're finished getting ready, Namjoon is already ringing to be let in. Opening the door wide, you spring into his arms, wrapping your limbs around his body as he lifts you off of the ground, your toes barely dusting across the hardwood. He's frowning when he sets you down, his eyes roaming around the dark and empty dorm.

“Did they leave you here alone again?” he asks, his voice dripping with concern.

“It's not their fault. The comeback is only a few weeks away. They're putting the finishing touches on everything,” you defend, although you can't help the way your chest pangs at the mental image of your group together – sans you – working on the song that you were so passionate about. “On the upside, my manager is too busy with them to worry about what I'm doing so I'm a free woman for the night. Where do you want to go?”

“Actually,” Namjoon begins nervously as you pull your bag up over your shoulder. “I thought we could stay in tonight.”

You frown, your eyes moving toward the bay window that showcases the gray skies and heavy drizzle. “But it's miserable outside. This is perfect date weather.”

Because paparazzi and fansite cameras are so expensive, it's rare that you find someone crazy enough to follow idols and celebrities out into the rain to take pictures. Because of this, most idols choose to specifically plan their dates around crappy weather. It's a well kept secret amongst the community of idols and something that you and Namjoon took advantage of whenever you could.

“We get a whole dorm to ourselves. Why not make good use of it?” Namjoon grins, leaning against the back of the sofa. His eyebrows waggle mischievously but he's anything but cute to you right now.

“Namjoon, I've had this whole dorm to myself for the past two weeks and I'm sick of it. I want to go out and do something, even if it's just a quick walk around the block. I need fresh air.”

Namjoon hears the demand in your tone. You're leaving absolutely zero room for argument. He suppress a sigh as he glances quickly towards the window. The rain wasn't supposed to last all afternoon. When the sun comes back out, so do the people of Seoul. It was definitely too risky to be out and about, especially with everything going on, but the look of determination in your eyes wasn't something that Namjoon wanted to tamper with. Especially not when he knew just how low your spirits have been lately.

“Compromise?” he asks softly. You nod, motioning for him to continue. “We take a walk to get some coffee, maybe find a bench so you can get the oxygen you want so badly. After that, we get snacks and head back here to hang out for awhile. Deal?”

“Okay but you're buying the snacks, Mister Grammy,” you tease, slipping your wrist around his elbow to link your arm with his. His limbs stiffen at the contact and you frown, pulling away slightly to look up at him questioningly. You're offered no explanation, only a tight-lipped smile and head jerk toward the door. A voice inside of your head is urging you get to the bottom of this. Namjoon has never tensed or pulled away from your touch before – is he angry at you? Is he annoyed with you? The thoughts bite at you like a swarm of mosquitoes but not wanting to ruin the rare evening you have together, you bite your tongue and follow him out the door.

__________________________________

“Jungkook is convinced that we're going to lose …” Namjoon trails off as his head swirls around to survey your surroundings for what seems like the thousandth time, “... to Billie Eilish. He's happy we're nominated but he doesn't want to get his hopes up.”

“Jungkook needs to have more faith in you guys. You have just as much of a chance as Billie does.”

“That's what I've been telling him. And even if we do lose, it's still ...” he loses his focus again, eyes squinting to stare at something in the distance. You're overcome with frustration. While he walked away from the dating scandal with Grammy nominations, you were the one who was punished and pulled from your group's anticipated comeback. He hasn't suffered. He hasn't been impacted. So why is he so paranoid right now? “... an honor to be nominated, you know?”

“It took you a whole forty-five seconds to finish that sentence,” you sneer, unable to resist the urge to be sassy. You can see the way Namjoon's face balks in your peripheral but you walk alongside him, eyes on the scenery in front of you.

“Is it wrong to be alert, Y/N? We have to be careful. We can't afford another-”

“Another what? What did the scandal cost you? Absolutely nothing.”

He freezes. You're a few steps ahead of him before you realize he's not beside you anymore. You turn in his direction but keep your chin tilted at the sidewalk at your feet. “Sweets.”

“Sorry for snapping at you. The coffee shop is just ahead,” you mumble lowly, jutting your thump in the buildings direction. Namjoon's hand wraps around your wrist before you can take anymore steps away from him. When he pulls you into his body, your back fitting against his chest like two perfect puzzle pieces, you don't fight him. Your body sags against his as you exhale long and slow, all of your repressed anger deflating. He buries his face into your shoulder, nuzzling the tip of his nose along the expanse of your neck.

“I'm so sorry, Sweets. I know it's unfair. You don't deserve any of this.”

“No, I'm sorry. None of this is your fault. I shouldn't be taking my anger out on you,” you apologize, finding his hand on your stomach and entwining your fingers together with an assuring squeeze.

“As happy as I am about the nominations, I feel awful about the timing. I feel like … I feel like I'm kicking you down a little bit every time I talk about it.”

Your head snaps up and you whirl around quickly to face him. He's startled when you raise onto your tiptoes and grip both sides of his face with your small hands. “Joonie, please don't feel bad. I've been your biggest fan since day one. Nobody is more happy and proud of you for those nominations than me, okay? The timing is perfect because with, you know… my group … going on without me, I can devote all of my time to you and the boys and making sure that you all walk into that building knowing with absolute certainty that you're going to win. BTS' own personal cheerleader.”

Namjoon knows you. He sees and hears right through your smiling eyes and confident words. Despite what you're saying, there's a sadness to how you've been carrying yourself. He vows to change that.

Reaching up, you knock softly on the side of Namjoon's head. “Knock, knock. Come on, Boyfriend, I'm thirsty. Let's go get that coffee.”

He laughs and when your back is turned, takes one more quick look around the area before letting you pull him forward.

_________________________________ 

You inhale so sharply that your vision blurs for a split second but it's worth it when the strong aroma of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries wafts into your senses. “If they make candles that smell like coffee shops, I want at least five in every room of the dorm.”

“I'll buy you all of the coffee shop scented candles in the world. And if nobody is making them yet, Big Hit might find themselves investing some stock in Yankee Candle.”

You're giggling as his phone begins to vibrate in his back pocket. Namjoon pulls it out quickly and you catch a glimpse of Taehyung's name before the device is yanked out of your line of vision. Namjoon nods at the shop in front of you. “Go on in and order me an Americano. I'll just be a minute.”

“Okay but tell Taehyung I said hi and that I miss him.”

Namjoon nods curtly, raising the phone to his ear but waiting until you're yanking open the door and disappearing inside before answering. Realizing that you don't know if Namjoon wants a pastry and what he's in the mood for, you duck your head outside. His back is to you as he paces in small steps.

“My mom's birthday is coming up. I'm out doing some present shopping. No, I'm not alone, one of the managers is with me.”

Wait. Why is he lying to Taehyung?

You could understand if it was a staff member calling to check on his whereabouts. It would open a brand new can of worms if they found out he was roaming around in public with you after the last media scare. But Taehyung wouldn't judge him. Neither would any of the other guys. And they certainly wouldn't reveal your plans to any of the staff. Namjoon knows this. So why is he lying?

You slip back into the building before he realizes that you're eavesdropping. The line is moderately short, only one man and a group of three teenagers stand in front of you. You're studying the list of pastries on the board when you feel eyes burning into you. Knowing that your face mask is properly concealing half of your face and that a regular citizen who isn't familiar with your group won't recognize your eyes without your stage makeup, you decide to ignore it. You're focusing hard on the menu, contemplating the pros and cons between muffins and scones when a body steps into your line of vision, blocking the board from your sight. The person, one of the teenage girls from the group in front of you, squints with narrowed eyes at the upper half of your face. You lean away from her closeness.

“There's no fine dust today. Why are you wearing a mask?”

You scoff at her curiousness. “Am I not allowed to?”

She rolls her eyes at your attitude. “It's just weird, that's all. And you look kind of familiar. Do I know you?” Goosebumps line the length of your arms, your hairs rising as warning alarms begin going off in your head. Swallowing down your sudden terror, you return her eye roll. “Is it a crime to have a bad skin day? And no, I don't know you. Now if you excuse me, I think I've lost my appetite.”

You hear her sputtering in disbelief as you spin on your heel and quickly scurry out of the building. Namjoon is on the steps when you burst out the door, his eyes widening when you barrel past him, just barely successful in grabbing his hand on your way out to drag him with you. He's pestering you with questions as you tug him quickly away from the coffee shop.

“Yah!” he finally shouts, planting his feet firmly on the ground and yanking you backward to him. “What the hell is going on? Why did you run out there so fast?”

You open your mouth to tell him what happened. And then you stop yourself.

If you tell Namjoon the truth, that someone was on the verge of recognizing you, how quickly would he leave? How long would it be before you got the opportunity to be with him again? You know these answers and because of that, you choose to lie.

“That barista was really rude. She … commented on my weight when I tried to order a muffin.”

You feel guilty when your boyfriend's face twists in outrage. “What? Sweets, that's ridiculous. You're perfect! Why didn't you demand to speak to her manager?”

“There were a lot of people in there. I didn't want to cause a scene.”

He sighs because he knows that you're right, his fingers finding your waist and pulling you into his embrace. “I'll order you a million muffins, okay? Just say the word.”

“Chocolate chip and blueberry?” you ask in a comically high-pitched tone, batting your eyelashes up at him.

He laughs, raising his phone to his ear. “You got it, Sweets. Hello? Big Hit? I'm going to need you to build the biggest bakery in the world and have the staff make nothing except for chocolate chip and blueberry muffins. And they need to be delicious. The most delicious muffins in the whole damn world. Do I make myself clear?”

He's using his deep CEO face and you're hunched over in giggles, nearly out of breath. Reaching up, you playfully snatch the phone out of Namjoon's hand and up to your ear. “And coffee. With imported coffee beans. The best you can find. The fate of BTS' career depends on it.”

You're still laughing when you look up at your boyfriend, expecting him to be amused. Instead, his eyes are focused on something behind you. Craning your neck around, you make out a few figures standing on a hill down the path. It's too far away to see their faces but you recognize the colorful sweaters they were wearing immediately. You swivel at a neck-breaking speed back around to Namjoon, grabbing his arm to begin pulling him forward. “I can't believe they followed me,” you mumble under your breath without thought. Unfortunately, Namjoon hears it.

“Who followed you? Do you know those girls? Is it the one who was rude about the muffin?”

“No, they ...” you trail off, your brain working overtime to conjure up a believable lie. What reason would you have to avoid a group of teenage girls? You seriously have nothing. “They … were … they … almost recognized me.”

You admit defeat, confessing the truth. And just as expected, Namjoon's face twists with some kind of mixture of fury and panic. His dimples that usually make an appearance when he's happy and smiling are a double-edged sword, deep and prominent as his jaw twitches in anger.

“You were recognized? And you didn't tell me? We've been frolicking along and –”

You scoff. “There was no frolicking.”

“Stop it, Y/N,” he snaps at you. The way he uses your first name instead of Sweets confirms that he's really, really angry with you. “This was a really careless and dumb idea. We should have just stayed indoors.”

“I said they almost recognized me, Namjoon. I left before they could figure out who I was. Why are you freaking out right now?”

“Because we need be careful and because you lied to me!” he roars out the last part. Your feet subconsciously stumble a few steps away from him. In all of the years that you've known him, even before the two of you started dating, Namjoon has never shouted at you in this manner. Sure, you've had your fair sure of arguments and raised voices in the past but you can't recall a time that he has ever directed any kind of fury at you like he is right now. Exhaling a deep breath, he softens as he takes in your frightened state. “I'm sorry for yelling like that. I'm just stressed. How about we call it a day, okay? I'll call you later.”

He kisses your cheek so quickly that you feel like it might not have even happened. He leaves you no chance to argue or beg him to stay as he trudges quickly down the sidewalk and away from where you stand, still trembling at his outburst.

The group of teenage girls remain gathered at the top of the hill, their eyes fixed in your direction. You know that they're too far away to have possibly heard your fight with Namjoon but the thought doesn't bring you any comfort. As much as you'd like to stay outside and wallow in your own self-pity, you don't want to give those girls any opportunity to piece together who you are.

__________________________________

You're two blocks away from the dorm when you realize that Namjoon's phone is still in your hand. You sigh because it's been at least fifteen minutes since he stormed away in anger; he must have realized he didn't have his phone by now but he hasn't come back to retrieve it? Did he not want so see you that badly?

In a moment of brainlessness that you're not proud of it, you use your phone to dial Namjoon's phone to let him know that you are in possession of said phone. It isn't until Namjoon's ringtone – a short cut of a Drake song – begins playing that you register your dumb mistake. You can't help but laugh at yourself, a phone in one hand dialing the phone in your other hand that's ringing. But when you lift Namjoon's phone to disconnect the call, the name of the contact on the screen makes you freeze.

Chicken Place 2.

You click disconnect on your phone and the ringing on Namjoon's immediately stops. There's a tightening in your chest as you press the call button on Namjoon's contact. And again, the name pops up. Chicken Place 2.

You were saved in his phone as Sweets. You were always Sweets to him. When … when did that change?

The logical part of your brain understands why he did this. A fan getting hold of his phone and finding anything that sounds suspiciously like a pet name for a significant other is pretty damning evidence that an idol is dating. But Namjoon would never allow a fan to come anywhere near his phone. It's not just a talking and texting device to him; that phone holds thousands of precious photographs, note files that contain lyrics that have popped into his head at random times of the day that he didn't want to forget, social media accounts that nobody but you and the boys knew that he was secretly registered for.

Not even Big Hit staff knew that you were his Sweets. Only the boys did.

So … why change it? Was he embarrassed of you? Thinking back to how he lied to Taehyung about being with you earlier only makes the churning in your stomach intensify. Pulling up Namjoon's password protected menu, you type in the password. 2010913. You've unlocked his phone a million times with this password. You unlocked his phone two weeks ago with this password.

September 13th, 2010. The day that the two of you met as Big Hit trainees in the dance studio.

You whimper when the password is rejected.

Slumping down onto a nearby bench, you punch in the password again. And again. And again. Finally, the phone flashes in your face, taking an anti-theft photo, and you drop it to your lap, succumbing to your tears. Why was everything so different? Why did this scandal have to change everything between the two of you? You're wholly aware that you've been moody lately, sensitive to every word and action. It hasn't only been Namjoon that has been on the receiving end of your wrath, the other members of FRNZEE and even your managers have gotten healthy doses of your misery. But you weren't the only one who was acting out of character lately. Namjoon has always been one of the most relaxed people in your life but now he's acting as if he's in the witness protection program – looking over his shoulder every other second, lying to his friends, changing his passwords, changing his contact names. Is the thought of being in a public relationship with you so terrifying that he needs to jump through all of these hoops?

The sound of tires crunching against pavement has you tilting your chin up. The windows of the car are tinted but you know that it's Namjoon's silhouette behind the wheel. He approaches cautiously, gulping when he notices his phone on your lap.

“Sweets, why aren't you at the dorm? Why do you have-”

“Sweets?” you parrot, glancing up at him with red-rimmed eyes. “Who is Sweets? My name is clearly Chicken Place Number Two.”

He groans in frustration, hands rubbing at his face. “It's just temporary, okay? I just don't want people asking questions.”

“People like who? Taehyung, who is under the impression that you're out shopping with your manager right now?” you counter, rising to your feet. His eyes enlarge when he realizes that you overheard his conversation earlier. “Why can't Taehyung know that you're with me, Namjoon?”

He's silent. You step closer to him.

“Joonie, why did you lie to Taehyung?”

His eyes flutter close, his neck dipping as he gulps down a sigh. “I told everyone that we broke up.”

Even though you hear the words that he mumbles so quietly, you make him repeat it.

“I told everyone that we broke up, okay? You … you kind of blew up on the internet as this … this joke and everyone was worried what it might do to our reputation if it really did come out that we were dating. But I promise you that it's only temporary, Sweets. After the awards are over and after everything has died down, I'm going to come clean to Big Hit that I'm still with you. We can go back to rainy dates outside but until then, I really just need us to lay low, okay?”

He's out of breath when he finishes. His eyes are wide and pleading as they scan your face for an answer. You're trying to process his words and for the most part, you're successful – he's only pretending to be broken up with you and he'll tell the truth soon. But it's the first part of his monologue that your heart can't move past.

He really is embarrassed of you. And not just him but BTS as a whole. The boys that you considered close friends, the man that you considered your soul mate … didn't want to be associated with you right now.

“You don't want to be attached to my name,” you say, mostly to yourself so you can confirm your thoughts. “You're embarrassed to be linked with me right now.”

“I never said that,” he denies heatedly. You scoff viciously. “Y/N, you can't deny that you've been made out to be some kind of meme. And I know that I'm partly to blame for that, I'm aware of it and I'm sorry. But I have to think of the boys first. We've worked way too hard to -”

“To let some internet joke ruin everything for you?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” he yells, towering over you. Unlike last time when you cowered under the volume of his anger, you raise yourself even higher to match his heated glare. “You know what? Maybe … maybe this shouldn't be temporary.”

And just like that, you're cowering again.

“What did you just say?” you squeak, the confidence and anger draining from your body. He leans against his car, rubbing his face again for what seems like the longest minute of your life before he glances up at you.

“Maybe until everything blows over … we should take a real break. I don't think this relationship is healthy for either one of us right now.”

With jelly-like limbs, you stagger backwards. You can't believe what you're hearing. He's really breaking up with you? “Namjoon, I don't want to break up with you. I just want-”

“I'm sorry,” he interrupts. His eyes are downcast on the sidewalk and you silently urge him to look at you. Just look at you and grin and tell you that he's just cruelly joking. You wouldn't even be mad at him for it. All he has to do is just look at you.

But he doesn't. He leans down to pick up his phone that had fallen off of your lap in the midst of the argument.

“You said you wouldn't do this,” you say desperately to his back. He freezes. “You said this wouldn't happen. You promised.”

“I'm sorry,” he repeats like a skipping record.

But he still doesn't look at you. Not when he's opening his car door, not when he's slipping inside and buckling his seat belt, not when he's starting the engine and driving away.

__________________________________

Namjoon parks the car outside of his dorm, shuts the car off and sits.

What did he just do? What in the fuck did he just do?

He didn't go back with the intention of breaking up with you. It was never his intention at all. But he was being pulled tightly in two different directions – his members and his staff who worried that being associated with rumors that involved you would have a negative impact on the awards seasons for BTS. And then there was you, who showered him in love and support and only wanted the same in return.

It seemed like you were asking for the littlest but to Namjoon, you were asking for the world. One that he can't give to you right now.

He grabs his phone from the front seat before he opens his car door, checking the screen for scratches or broken glass. When he powers it up, the first thing he sees is the anti-theft photo that his phone took as you were attempting to unlock it with the password that he changed four days ago. His chest throbs in pain when he sees the blurred picture of your red-rimmed, puffy eyes.

Whipping the phone across the vehicle, a scream of frustration and devastation rips through his throat as he slams his head down onto the steering wheel. The photo is ingrained into his head, the desolate downturn of your lips and the tears in your eyes are wrecking him.

What did he really just do?

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[formalmess]

For Your Entertainment ~ Chapter Eleven

Summary: Luigi gets help and Peasley receives a visitor.

Warnings: Gore, Character Death, Murder

”D-Daisy…”

Luigi’s chest dropped as he watched the last signs of life escape his friend in the form of unceremonious bubbles, Daisy’s corpse floating within her final watery resting place. He sobbed out her name in vain, his stomach twisting painfully as his knees gave away, stumbling back.

”Luigi, my boy.” E. Gadd approached him, his glasses clouded and face pale. He gripped Luigi’s shoulders, trying to help steady the trembling man. “Are you okay? Stand up, young feller!”

Luigi didn’t respond. He was numb, gaze locked upon the screens. “Daisy… D-Daisy…!” The weight of her passing hit Luigi all at once, his sobs turning to screams. “N-No...! NO! DAISY!”

”What is-?” E. Gadd turned around. “What’s going on?!”

”Bravo!” 

From within the recording, Dimentio suddenly spoke up.

The three standing in the lab jolted, moving to focus on the screens surrounding them.

Not yet finished, Dimentio stood up and waved his hands in the air dramatically.

”That was quite the performance, was it not?” His maliciously chilling voice continued without an air of sympathy as he circled the golden box. “Wouldn’t have expected any less from my most devoted and fesity of assistants. Putting up a fight until the very end! What a spectacle, indeed.”

He circled Daisy’s floating corpse in the execution tank with a smile on his face, lifting a gloved finger to his chin in thought. “I do suppose I was partially to blame for the exhaustion that ultimately sealed her fate, though…” Dimentio mused with a sigh. 

He laughed.  “But who am I to resist a game of cat and mouse when presented with it? Only a fool would pass up such an opportunity. Even if the other contender in the game gets worn out, it’s all the same to me! A bit of fun before the show. Certainly a fine way to loosen up a bit before playing the role of host…”

”Oh Grambi, no…” Peasley held a hand over his face, grimacing as he lowered his head, trying not to imagine Dimentio’s cruel titters of delight from when he snatched the Sarasan Princess away. “I can’t even imagine…”

”-But!” Dimentio continued. “Speaking of exhaustion… I do believe my audience is deserving of a bit of a break. Wouldn’t you agree, my flower dame?”

Silence was all that answered.

”Ah, right… Dead.” Dimentio mumbled. He shook his head, clapping his hands together. “Well, in any case, I won’t see to it that I bore my audience with the same old tricks! Why, I need time to prepare for the show’s finale, after all!”

Dimentio turned his attention to the camera, keeping a hand up against the execution box he’d created.

”So consider this your intermission, everyone. Stretch, maybe get some snacks, rest up... Our regularly scheduled program will start again soon!" 

Dimentio further pressed his gloved palm down on the golden box in the middle of the room, grinning madly as his yellow eye twinkled upon examining Daisy's body.

"My assistant will be more than happy to send you off... with a bang!"

He disappeared with a snap of his fingers, laughing.

Without warning, the golden box containing Daisy’s body exploded, the swirling contents inside meshing together in a horrific combination of dark ash and sparks, blood splattering against the yellow sheet of glass.

Bloodied water flooded the camera’s view.

The tape cut to black.

                                                 - - - - - - - - - -

Dimentio kept true to his word.

After the three shakily exited the lab, composing one another despite their festering terror, they soon realized there was nothing to fear. Nothing else in the manor was amiss, and none of the ghosts reported any sightings of the jester.

As the hours passed that evening and the night turned to a clear sunny day, it was made very clear Dimentio’s intentions of giving his grief-stricken audience a break were truthful. He didn't attack, torment, send letters or parcels... It was almost as if he'd gone dormant, the cruel beast locked away for the time being.

Paranoia tore at their fragile subconscious, however, constantly reminding them they weren't safe and that he could strike at any time, to whisk them away to a horrific fate.

But, for now, everything was tranquil. Nothing was wrong. Everything was okay.

E. Gadd took it upon himself to ensure Luigi and his spouse felt happy and comfortable in Evershade Valley upon seeing how upset they were after the video incident. And despite the hesitation at first, the pair did stay.

E. Gadd put lots of work into sprucing up Gloomy Manor for his guests, dusting up cobwebs and fixing furniture with the help of various ghosts. Luigi and Peasley also helped despite E. Gadd’s protests, claiming this was his job, and that the two boys should just relax. But, they insisted they help, using it as an opportunity to distract themselves. Peasley decorated the main foyer and entrance with tens upon tens of yellow roses he’d collected, having been waiting for an opportunity to display them somewhere. He filled the large vases by the doors, telling Luigi that it’d be a nice thing to come home to.

Luigi was already quite familiar with the property from his ghost-hunting days, which made it easy for cleaning up. As they tidied up their new and hopefully permanent abode, Luigi seemed to recognize every nook and cranny, telling Peasley tales of his past adventures.

The stories helped to comfort Luigi, and having the ghosts assist in their efforts to clean certainly helped in making him feel better. The gesture turned something that was once terrifying seem familiar and comforting, much like how he’d been when first adopting Polterpup. The spectral pup himself seemed much happier living in Gloomy Manor, playing by their feet while his owners worked. He even tried to help in his own way, ripping up shreds of paper and curtains that were caked with dust or broken. 

As the days passed, Luigi adapted to the new setting as well.

Keeping his thoughts away from Dimentio, Luigi managed to calm himself down. He often mediated and read to himself in the library with Polterpup on his lap, left to calm himself down when his thoughts began to wander. Peasley would always accompany Luigi wherever he went to ensure his safety, helping whenever it was necessary.

Mario had even sent a letter to the manor, calming Luigi's growing anxieties tenfold. Luigi came to Peasley in jubilant tears one morning to show him the letter, written in Mario's own handwriting with bolded red ink.

’I'll be back soon, Weegie. I miss you a lot, and I'm sorry I haven't been there for you. As soon as I get there, we'll figure this out together. I'm on my way.’

Luigi knew Mario most likely didn't even know what had befallen upon them all. Not the full story, at least. Luigi didn't want to tell him everything. Not all at once.

Not about the Princess...

Luigi shook his head and pocketed the letter, continuing to try and distract himself with menial activities. Peasley did his very best to try and keep Luigi feeling secure and happy as the days passed by.

Luigi's panicked jitters and horrific nightmares began to subside as the days turned to a single month, leaving everyone in the manor and valley feeling much more at ease. The change was almost unprecedented, but no one objected or complained. E. Gadd was pleased to see Luigi's condition bettering, always offering him time to himself.

But, the professor did still request a weekly meeting with Luigi and Peasley to catch up on things in between vigorous lab work. He never saw the boys during the week and wanted the opportunity to see them once in awhile. Their meetings were fun and light-hearted, E. Gadd usually telling bad jokes over tea and snacks. 

Today’s meeting was quieter than usual though. E. Gadd had lost most of his eccentricities, now silent and twiddling his thumbs across from Peasley and Luigi.

"Now... boys,” E. Gadd began, sitting up as he held his hands together. “I know you two have been rather stressed, as of late. But, I wanted to ask you two something. It's just an idea, so hear me out."

Peasley and Luigi glanced up from their separate cups of tea, exchanging a glance. 

"What is it, professor?"

E. Gadd took a breath, and then began. "Earlier today I was in Toad Town, just looking for parts for my next big invention.” He grinned. “Which, might I add, will be quite the revolutionary project, something generations will be studying for years to c-...”

He paused, clearing his throat as he turned to Luigi and Peasley, both with puzzled expressions. 

“Ahem, sorry, got a bit off-track there. Anyhoo, I ran into an odd fellow on the streets. He was wearing the most peculiar outfit, a purple cloak draped over his head and a crystal ball in his arms. He stopped me, noticing I was looking rather pale, and asked if I needed any help. Now, my complexion is my business, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't the least bit shaken from... the incident, that happened a few weeks ago."

"But still,” he continued hastily. “I explained that, and I apologize for letting this slip without your consent, young fellers, but I informed him of your, uh, condition, right now. Rather fragile, the pair of you are. He explained he was a doctor. Lives in Toad Town, not far from here at all. 

“You both need to cope somehow, and I just thought it would be better if you two see a medical professional rather than just bottling it up yourselves. These talks are doing some good, I would hope, but there's not much I can do except offer some words of encouragement. I know not the slightest thing about how the mind works, only what makes gears turn and cogs spin.

“It’s only an idea, but he gave me his information if you two might be interested." He handed over a card he'd been keeping in his lab coat pocket, handing it over to Luigi. Luigi looked the small card over, tilting his head curiously.

It was labelled with the name ‘Dr. Toadley’ and gave the address to Toadley Clinic. The name sounded familiar to Luigi, but he didn’t exactly recall why.

”He said he mainly focuses on having one client at a time, just for an hour session. And he also told me your first session would be completely free. Just tell him I sent you. He seems like a nice-enough fellow, albeit a bit odd, but who isn’t a little odd nowadays?”

"Luigi, this sounds like a marvelous opportunity for you!” Peasley spoke up, setting his tea cup down.

”What? B-But, what about you? I don’t want to leave you alone!”

”I’ll be fine!” Peasley smiled. “Besides, someone’s gotta look after Polterpup while you’re out.”

Polterpup, who was licking up the crumbs that’d fallen to the ground, yipped and perked his head up upon hearing his name.

”I… I don’t know. I’ve been pretty okay, lately…? I don’t n-need-“

”Luigi, my boy, you need help. I’m no professional, but you’ve been out of it for several days these past few weeks. Seeing you cry breaks my old heart, son.”

”But… what if… h-he? While I’m walking to Toad Town, if-?”

”I’ll have some ghosts accompany you, my boy. No one will mess with you when they’re around. Hoho! They’ll be too scared outta their skin.”

”I… I…”

Peasley reached forward, grabbing Dr. Toadley’s card and slipping it back into Luigi’s hands. He held them comfortingly, smiling. “This will be a good break for you, darling. Try and tell him everything. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you.”

”But, I don’t want… I don’t want to remember...”

”I know it hurts. It hurts me every day to think about it too. But, you can’t keep it to yourself any longer. It’s going to hurt you so much more if you do.”

Luigi looked into Peasley’s concerned gaze for a moment before turning to glance at E. Gadd, who also nodded.

”O… Okay.”

                                                - - - - - - - - - -

“I-I’ll only be gone for an hour.” Luigi spoke shakily. “I’ll be in Toad Town…”

“I know, Luigi. Just an hour. You’ll be back before dark, right?”

“Yeah. A-And E. Gadd is just next door, if you need him, for whatever reason.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Y-Your sword! Do you have your sword on you? Just in case.”

“Yes, darling. I always have it on me.”

“Lock the door behind me, p-please.”

“I will, darling.” Peasley smiled. “Goodness, shouldn’t I be the one worried about YOU? It’s been quite awhile since we were last in Toad Town. You be careful out there, Luigi. Come back home safe. Stay close to the ghosts.”

Peasley gestured forward. A group of various ghosts stood just outside the door, a rather large Slammer right by Luigi’s side.

“Y-Yeah. I will. I just… I want you to be safe, Peasley...”

“Just try and calm down, my love. Clear your mind. Remember what Snoozemore taught you about deep breathing?”

“I… All Snoozemore reminds me of is… i-is...”

“I know, darling. You can tell Toadley about it. He’s the professional, I’m sure he’ll be able to help. Be sure to not spare any details. He won’t be able to help if you don’t tell him everything.”

Luigi nodded shakily, holding back tears. “Yeah…”

Peasley leaned forward and hugged Luigi tightly, trying to soothe his shivering. “It’ll be okay. Just try and calm down. I love you so much, Luigi. Be safe out there.”

Luigi nodded into Peasley’s shoulder, sniffling. Peasley leaned back and kissed Luigi on the nose, smiling.

“I love you.”

Luigi went to respond when he jolted at the abrupt sound of barking from behind Peasley, Luigi glancing up just in time to see Polterpup jumping up on his legs.

“O-Oh, hello, doggy…!” Luigi muttered as he bent down to pet Polterpup on the head. “I can’t play right now, I gotta go, boy... I’ll be back soon, though…!”

“Polterpup, stay in the house, please.” Peasley playfully chided as he pushed the spectral dog back. He picked him up, smiling. “Well, I suppose we can both see you off then?”

Luigi nodded slowly, turning and taking a deep breath. His ghostly companions led him down the porch steps toward the road. Glancing back, Luigi smiled as he made eye contact with Peasley again, who was still standing out on the porch.

“Bye, darling!” Peasley waved, blowing a kiss in Luigi’s direction. “See you later tonight!”

Peasley watched Luigi go until he was out of sight. He set Polterpup down on the ground of the manor’s entrance, letting the dog run off as he shut the front doors behind him.

Peasley exhaled before walking down the corridor from the entrance, going toward the main hall. He shivered slightly from a sudden cold draft of air through the windows, the suits of armor looming ominously along the walls certainly not helping with Peasley’s unease as he went.

Once in the main hall, he made his way toward the downstairs corridor, holding his sides as he went into the library. A fire was weakly crackling in the fireplace, coating the room in a warmth that easily relaxed Peasley’s anxious shivers. The gentle glow soothed him as he walked into the kitchen, entering from the side door off of the library.

He removed a package of coffee beans shipped to him from the Beanbean Kingdom from one of the cabinets, setting it down on the counter. He silently made himself a cup of coffee, only the sounds of the whirring machine and trickling liquid being there to accompany him.

He froze as he felt an abrupt wet sensation on his legs, turning around feverishly in panicked shock, only to be met with Polterpup sitting behind him. The ghastly dog tilted his head, panting as he sat and rubbed up against Peasley’s legs, licking them again.

”O-Oh, it’s just you. Hah, you scared me, little guy...”

Peasley smiled as he went to pet the dog before the beeping of the machine caught his attention, turning to pick up his cup.

He set off towards the library again, Polterpup trotting close behind him. He seated himself in one of the velvet lined chairs, almost hidden beneath stacks of books. He picked up one of them to read, skimming over the cover as he sat.

Peasley took a short sip of his freshly brewed coffee, exhaling. Polterpup barked from below him.

“What is it, boy?”

Polterpup whined, his puppy-dog eyes widening.

“What do you want?” Peasley laughed, pointing to his drink. “Do you want some coffee? Hah, just because Luigi isn’t here doesn’t mean you can have caffeine. I don’t think he’d appreciate that.”

Polterpup yipped, playfully licking Peasley’s hand as he bent down to pet him. He then jumped up on the chair, squirming under Peasley’s arms before snuggling up against the prince’s chest.

Peasley ran a hand over Polterpup’s back, smiling. He leaned on his arm as he settled into his seat, setting down his cup on the table at his side. He picked up his book, opening it up and beginning to read.

The hour passed by slowly. Every minute, Peasley wanted nothing more than for Luigi to come back. The ticking of the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the room only heightened his anxiety. He tapped his foot anxiously.

Polterpup stirred at the trembling movement, glancing up at Peasley curiously.

“Did I wake you? Sorry, Polterpup. I’m just a bit worried. It’s almost been a little over an hour, and he’s not back…” Peasley bit his lip, setting his book down. “Do you think he’s alright?”

Polterpup whined in response, nuzzling his head into Peasley’s chest.

“M-Maybe we should go find him. It’s getting late, and I know how much he hates when it gets dark outside…” Peasley mused, lifting a hand to his cheek. “How about we go pick him up, together? How’s that sound, boy?” Peasley tried to relieve his thoughts by sounding optimistic, but it didn’t help much.

Polterpup yipped, jumping off of Peasley’s lap and nearly knocking over a stack of books as he ran toward the doors, clawing at the wood. Peasley pushed open the door, but Polterpup still phased through the walls and doors, the pup rather impatient.

“Hey, slow down! Not all of us can just go straight through walls, you know!” Peasley playfully scolded as he ran after Polterpup.

Entering the main hall, Peasley watched as Polterpup briefly waited for Peasley to ensure he was still following before immediately bolting through the doors leading to the entrance, barking loudly as he went.

“Polterpup!” Peasley called as he opened the doors to the corridor. The same cold draft of air hit him as he entered, squinting down the hall as he started toward the entrance.

Oddly enough, he couldn’t hear Polterpup anymore.

He stiffened upon hearing shuffling on the other side of the doors, pausing in his tracks.

“Luigi?” He questioned as he pushed open the doors, glancing around the entrance hall carefully as he walked in. “Luigi, is that you-?”

He froze.

“Ahahahaha! Look who finally decided to show up!”

Peasley could practically feel his heart stop at the sound of the now-familiar laughter. He stepped back instinctively, horrified at the smiling figure standing before him.

Dimentio stood dressed in his usual garb, a violet and yellow cape draped over his shoulders. The bells on his jester hat jingled as he moved his head, smiling eerily. His mask was almost completely fixed, but small pieces of it were still broken. The jester was holding a snarling Polterpup in his arms, the dog furiously trying to escape his hold, but Dimentio’s expression didn’t change.

“Ah, it’s always a pleasure to meet my hapless victims before the show. Especially you! Why, I feel as though we should’ve had this meeting ages ago.”

His smile only grew as he relished in Peasley’s absolute terror.

“Ahahaha! You almost look surprised, princey!”

Peasley refused to respond, merely keeping his distance.

“Don’t act so shocked, you had to have known this was coming. Even the most dense of imbeciles would have been able to guess I wouldn’t let Luigi’s darling husband just get out of this alive, right? Or perhaps that’s your foolishness at work again?” Dimentio laughed cruelly. “Mr. ‘Oh, he’ll leave us alone if we just wait it out!’, Mr. ‘Maybe he’ll just give up!’, how I am ever-so-pleased to meet your acquaintance at last!”

Polterpup growled in Dimentio’s hold, baring his teeth before chomping down on Dimentio’s hand. Dimentio released a shrill shriek, glaring at Polterpup.

Dimentio’s porcelain smile twisted into a frown. “Miserable creature...”

He snapped his fingers, Polterpup releasing a final growl and sharp yelp before he disappeared from sight, seemingly into thin air.

“Polterpup!” Peasley held back a horrified scream. “W-What did you just do-?!”

“Oh, the mutt’s fine! I just sent him off to my own little pocket dimension for a bit. I just got the place tidied up, after all.”

Peasley stepped back, trying to keep himself from shivering. He reached behind him, grabbing the door handle.

”Well, now that that distraction is out of the way…”

Dimentio held out a hand for Peasley to shake, to which Peasley responded by stepping back further.

”Oh, what? You’re not going to shake my hand? Too good for that, I suppose.” Dimentio scoffed, lowering his outstretched hand. “Fine. Be impolite then.”

Peasley ignored Dimentio as he reached to his side, moving to grab the hilt of his sword.

”No introductions will be necessary for me, I suppose. Surely you know who I am, and you must know exactly why I’m here. Why, you’re my next act, after all!”

”I-I’m not afraid of you, Dimentio.” Peasley spoke confidently.

”Ahaha… Now that’s a laugh! You can say that all you like, but it won’t change a thing. You’re uncontrollably shaking, like a leaf desperately clinging onto a tree during the coldest and foulest of winter days…”

Dimentio floated forward, hovering off the ground slightly. He moved fluidly, his mismatched eyes watching Peasley’s every movement as he leered at him. 

“I suppose you must be curious about what your role during my show may entail. I would just hate to spoil the surprise, but let’s just say it will be quite the show-stopper! Quite a fun welcome back from our short intermission.”

Dimentio suddenly appeared beside Peasley, teleporting to his left side and pushing him back into the middle of the entrance hall. Peasley broke his composure, having lost the grip on his sword.

“No, you won’t be the finale of my show, I’m sorry to say. And you won’t even be the first prince I’ve had onstage either! Aw, what a shame, indeed. I know how much that must hurt your egotistical heart, not being important at all to the program…” Dimentio mockingly pouted, running a finger down his mask to imitate a tear.

Dimentio hoisted Peasley to his feet, staring into his eyes.

“But, you’ll still be a marvelous addition… I’ve planned a very special trick for you.”

Peasley pulled himself out of Dimentio’s grip, stumbling away. He reached to the table along the wall, picking up one of the flower vases he’d put out. As soon as Dimentio lunged toward him again, Peasley slammed the vase over Dimentio’s head, the sound of glass shattering filling the otherwise silent entrance hall.

Dimentio clambered backward, reaching a hand up to his now-broken mask shakily. Black liquid spilt from the cracks onto his gloved hands, thick streams of pure jet-black fluid dripping down the white side of his mask.

Peasley staggered back momentarily before he turned on his heel and bolted away from the entrance hall, rushing out of sight as he dashed down the corridor.

“We’re playing rough, then…? Fine. I can deal with that…”

Dimentio wiped away at the black liquid trickling down his face, his cracked smile twitching.

“Let the games begin.”

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

“T-Thank you, again, Dr. Toadley, f-for everything.” Luigi’s meek voice trembled slightly as he spoke.

The meeting at the clinic had gone much better than he originally thought it would, feeling a sense of renewal fill his chest. It had gone a little longer than he would’ve liked, but the time spent further delving into ways to cope certainly helped.

”It's just been really hard to talk about that kinda stuff lately…”

“Are you feeling better now? Of course you are.” Toadley spoke quickly, brushing his hands off on his cloak. The blackened coat draped over his head concealed most of his features, but Luigi didn’t complain. Eye contact made him nervous. “Will I see you again? I assume so. My services have proven themselves formidable to you, correct?”

“Yes-”

“Of course I’m correct. Stop by the clinic at any time. My intern will see to it that you’re first in line for my services.”

“T-Thank you, Dr. Toadley.” Luigi smiled. “I-I really am feeling a lot better.”

“Happy to hear. Now, hurry on home.” Toadley spoke hastily. “Tell E. Gadd I said hello. And Luigi?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget our talk. You have an unseen potential. I foresee you doing great things.” 

“T-Thank you! And will do. I-I’ll probably see you later…!”

Luigi rushed out of Toadley Clinic to the waiting group of ghosts, a smile on his face. He waved goodbye to Dr. Toadley, who saw him off at the door.

The ghosts led their mortal companion back to Evershade Valley, chattering back and forth.

The doctor grinned as he watched Luigi go. But his smile was not his own.

He’d completed his assigned task.

For, what Luigi failed to notice upon his leaving, was the small green sprout curled around Toadley’s cranium.

                                               - - - - - - - - - -

Peasley ran without stopping.

He couldn’t breathe, his vision hazy with tears and his heart pounding in his ears. His skull rattled as he tried to compose himself, attempting to catch his breath. He couldn’t stop for anything.

Dimentio would catch him if he stopped.

Peasley pushed open the doors leading into the main hall, stopping in the middle of the room. His eyes feverishly darted around the space, trying to find the most optimal place to hide.

He turned on his heel as he heard the sharp sound of Dimentio whistling, bells jingling from the corridor behind him.

He quickly darted into the coatroom, hiding himself behind the safety of the closed door. He kept it open though, just by a crack, to keep watch on Dimentio should he come close. He secured a hand on his sword’s hilt.

The doors to the corridor were flung open, Dimentio floating into the middle of the main hall. He turned his head upwards, still holding a hand over his cracked mask as he did.

“Oooh, Peasley!” Dimentio’s sickly sweet voice crackled for a moment, calling out into the silent house excitedly. “Come out, come out, wherever you areee~!”

Peasley kept his hands clamped over his mouth, trying to keep his panicked breathing to a minimum.

Dimentio paused, glancing around, waltzing around the vicinity. Peasley watched his every movement, trying to steady his breathing as he dug his arms into his chest, as though that would stop his heart from beating so quickly.

The air was still.

Without warning or reason, Dimentio sharply turned his head to stare directly at Peasley, his single yellow eye glowing. 

From behind the crack in the door, Peasley nearly lost his breath when gasping out a horrified cry, pulling his sword out of the scabbard on his belt.

But, Dimentio didn’t approach him, instead going up the stairs to the second floor.

Peasley glanced down, allowing a sigh of relief to escape him as he crept out of the room upon Dimentio’s leaving. He tested the floorboards, the old wood creaking with each step he took. He huffed, bolting across the main hall to the corridor he’d entered from. He pulled on the handles, but the door had been locked. 

He panicked, rushing into the downstairs corridor on the other side of the room, shutting the door behind him and gulping down saliva as he anxiously tried to steady his breathing.

Peasley went into the nearest room, the door creaking with age as he did.

He went to cover his nose as he entered, shutting the door behind him.

Something smelt… awful. It was almost like something was on fire, but the lack of light from any such fire was clear as he was consumed by complete darkness as soon as the door shut behind him. He groped the wall for a light, unable to see anything in the pitch blackness.

He flicked what he thought to be a switch, turning on the lights overhead.

The sight that greeted him made him wish he’d hadn’t.

E. Gadd’s corpse sat in a wooden chair in the center of what had once been his laboratory, strapped down. His pale skin was charred and rotting, his head lowered, blood having spewed from his mouth. His glasses lay shattered on the ground at his feet.

Peasley screamed at the sight. The stench of burnt flesh assaulted Peasley’s senses as he staggered back, holding his hands over his mouth.

He stiffened as he heard someone moving in the hall just behind him, quickly shutting off the lights in the lab and crouching down behind an old machine.

Dimentio entered curiously, the light pouring in from the hallway being the only indication of his expression as he went into the lab.

“I know you’re in here…” Dimentio spoke in a sing-song tone. “Don’t try to hide from me...”

Peasley scooted toward the door that Dimentio had left open, trying to slip past his wandering gaze.

“You must’ve seen my little project. Hard to miss, isn’t it?” Dimentio laughed shortly. “I personally don’t think it’s my best work, but it’ll suffice. You should’ve heard the old man screaming! I’m quite shocked you didn’t actually… These walls are quite thin, you know.”

Peasley crawled towards the door on his hands and knees, trying to keep his sword from scraping on the ground.

He didn’t notice in the darkness, however, a small toolbox lying on the ground in front of his hands. He hit it as he tried passing, the clinking of metal making Dimentio spin around, chuckling.

“There you are~!”

Peasley screamed as Dimentio fired a star-like projectile toward him, blasting one of the machines in the lab to pieces. Peasley avoided the blast, coughing and darting out of the abandoned laboratory and running back into the main hall.

Only to run directly into Dimentio again.

Peasley screamed, glancing back over his shoulder feverishly.

“H-How did you-?!”

Peasley slipped past him, Dimentio watching Peasley as he dashed up the stairs, firing another projectile in his direction. Nearly tripping over several steps, Peasley quickly turned at the top, running into the upstairs corridor. He slammed the door behind him, locking it and barricading himself in.

“Yes, run as much as you like, but you won’t be able to escape!” Dimentio called, his playful voice echoing through the winding hallways of the mansion. 

Peasley couldn't help the tears from streaming down his face, hopelessly sobbing as he realized he was trapped. He was trapped in his own home with a psychotic jester who wanted nothing more than to steal him away for a twisted show of his own creation. 

He turned his head, running his hands through his hair anxiously as he tried to steady his breathing, nearly choking on his saliva as he gasped out in short breaths. Running further down the hall, he threw open the door to the bedroom he and Luigi were now sharing, shutting the door behind him. He breathed out choked sobs, guttural sounds of pain escaping his lips as he hugged himself.

He had never felt so powerless and alone. He could try jumping out of a window, but that would probably end in his death. He didn’t know what outcome he feared more.

Turning his attention back to the bedroom’s interior, he noticed Luigi’s pajamas strewn on the bed and the covers pulled back, the pair having not made their bed that morning. Today was supposed to be a lazy casual day.

Peasley blinked away tears, rushing over to the wooden vanity in the back of the room. He snatched up a piece of parchment that was lying atop it, having originally been meant for writing a letter back to his mother in the Beanbean Kingdom.

But, right now, all he could think about was Luigi. He had to make sure Luigi knew what had happened. He had to protect him.

He began to write, his hands shaking so much that his words were barely coherent, looking more like scribbles than anything else. 

An abrupt crash sounded from the hallway. Peasley bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming.

Terrified, Peasley crouched down with the letter clutched close to his chest. His eyes darted about the bedroom, looking for anywhere to hide, soon flattening himself against the ground and crawling under the bed. He curled his body up, hiding in the darkness amongst the musty floorboards. 

He breathed in short spurts, attempting to finish his letter despite not being able to see. The sliver of moonlight from the window was all he had, his words trembling and ugly, messily strewn about. Tears stained the paper, the words smudged.

He just hoped Luigi could somewhat read it. That’s all he needed.

He froze upon hearing more shuffling in the corridor, the door to the parlor in the next room over creaking open. He was getting closer.

Tears trickled down Peasley’s face onto the parchment, blurring the already almost incoherent words as he fought back the urge to start sobbing loudly at the thought that this would be his last interaction with Luigi, ever.

He would never see his homeland again. He would never see his mother. His friends. His husband.

Dimentio had already taken so many.

And he was next.

He buried his mouth in his hand, biting down on his skin to keep himself from making too much noise in fear that Dimentio might hear him. He still shivered, his heart pounding as tears continued to fall. He kept a hand held over the letter to ensure the inked words wouldn’t smudge anymore, but he couldn’t stop himself from crying.

He didn’t want to die.

He continued the message, signing his name shakily, his letters unreadable and his signature unsteady.

‘Luigi I love you so much

don’t let him take you. don’t let him find you.

please never forget how much I love you

please

peasley’

He suddenly froze, petrified in horror as he heard Dimentio’s voice.

“Still hiding, are we?”

He was in the bedroom.

Peasley glanced up, holding back tears and sniffles as Dimentio searched, looking into the closet and sifting through clothing. He stepped back.

“Not where I thought you’d be, then…” Dimentio chuckled. “Hmm, now if I were a stupid little naive prince… Where would I hide?”

Dimentio paused right beside Peasley’s hiding spot, having stopped floating as he lowered himself to the ground, just outside Peasley’s vision. The prince scooted backwards further, trembling. He was terrified that Dimentio might be able to hear his heart practically beating out of his chest.

“Well, let’s see. Not in the closet. He could be hiding under the bed… oh, but that’s the oldest trick in the book! Certainly, even the most dim-witted of fools wouldn’t be caught in such a place! That would be an embarrassment!” The smile on his face could be heard.

Dimentio stood still for a few moments, just inches away from Peasley. He held back a sob as Dimentio stepped toward him, humming a peppy tune.

“Ah, I could look, but it’s just a waste of energy!” Dimentio broke his sarcastic character for a moment, bursting into laughter. “No point in looking, I’m quite sure!”

Peasley came to the horrifying conclusion all at once.

Dimentio knew exactly where he was.

Minutes passed with only the accompaniment of Dimentio’s playful humming as he fiddled with the bells on his jester’s hat, almost as if he were waiting for something, bored.

Eventually, after several long minutes of painful silence and waiting, Dimentio finally moved, floating back toward the door. With a snap of his fingers, he teleported out of the room.

Peasley blinked, almost in disbelief, as he tried to steady his breathing. He waited for another minute before scooting out of his hiding place, careful as to not hit his head. He stood up, brushing himself off before he reached down and picked up his sword and the letter meant for Luigi.

He read over it one last time before he set it down on the bed atop Luigi’s pillow, holding back tears.

Turning on his heel, he threw open the door to the bedroom, intent on dashing back to the main entrance.

He wasn’t expecting to run directly into Dimentio’s chest upon exiting.

Peasley scrambled backward after he made contact with Dimentio, the jester forcing Peasley back as he loomed over him, his signature grin plastered on his face.

“S-Stay back! I’ll… I’ll kill you if you get one step closer to me!”

Dimentio didn’t listen, still moving toward Peasley.

Peasley inhaled, glancing down at his ever-trusted sword in his hand before he glanced back up, glaring at Dimentio. 

He lunged forward, plunging the sword directly into Dimentio’s abdomen. Dimentio glanced down at the sword stabbed through his chest, his smile turning to a frown.

Instead of bleeding out and dying, however, Dimentio simply disappeared from sight, leaving nothing behind.

Peasley dropped his sword by his side with a clang in disbelief, lifting a hand to his face.

He approached the spot that Dimentio had once stood, glancing around to see if there were any remains to speak of.

But there was nothing.

Dimentio was gone.

“W-What…”

Peasley yelped as he suddenly felt two cold hands press down on his shoulders. He froze in terror as he heard an eager laugh sound from behind him.

“Look at you, trying to play the hero again. Your attempts are almost as sad as your appearance.” Dimentio’s familiar voice spoke happily. “It was a fun game though. It’s always nice to play with my little mouse before I pounce upon it…”

“H-How...?”

“Oh, did you not know that I can make duplicates of myself? They’re virtually worthless, but they make for a spectacular illusion!” Dimentio chuckled darkly. “Nice try, princey, but I found you…”

Everything went black in Peasley’s vision, Dimentio’s laughter ringing in his ears.

                                              - - - - - - - - - -

“Peasley! I’m home!”

Luigi entered the main entrance of the manor confidently, striding into the open space with a smile on his face. He shut the doors behind him.

“You were right! That was actually really good for me… I can’t believe how much-”

Luigi froze.

Porcelain and glass lined the floor at his feet, roses littered across the ground in messily strewn displays. The doors to the main corridor were shoved open, ominously swaying on their hinges. Black splotches stained the carpet beneath him.

“P-Peasley?”

Polterpup hadn’t even rushed up to greet him yet, which was almost always guaranteed whenever he returned home from something.

“Polterpup? Doggy…?” 

Luigi felt lost. He was alone.

“Is… Is anyone here? H-Hello…?”

He didn’t want to think it, but he knew what had happened. He didn’t want to accept it.

His worst fears couldn’t have come true.

They couldn’t...

They couldn’t be gone.

#super mario bros #super paper mario #luigi #peasley #dimentio #prince peasley #daisy #e gadd #egadd #superstar saga #tw gore #my fics #writing #for your entertainment #happy friday the 13th #dont let a jester attack you in your house

[carmenlire]

Make It Look So Easy

read on ao3

“What’s he really worth to you, Hyung?”

Yoongi doesn’t look away from his glass, attention caught on the way the light filters through the cut crystal and picks up a dozen shades of gold in his half-finished whiskey. He feels everyone’s unease as the silence lengthens, knows without looking that Hoseok is waiting expectantly for an answer, that Namjoon-- while outwardly patient-- is on the edge of his seat, too.

Sinking into his chair, Yoongi turns the question over in his mind, taking his time with it. After all, this is what everything’s been building towards. All those sleepless nights, all that goddamn effort trying to keep Jungkook away only to inevitably fail, that’s been the question since Yoongi ran into the kid all those months ago.

What is Jungkook worth to him. For the first time, Yoongi lets himself entertain the answer that’s been on his periphery since the beginning.

Everything.

With resolve tightening his chest even as the knowledge sparks a wave of worry in his gut, Yoongi clears his throat and looks up with the edge of a grin on his lips. He raises the glass in a mockery of salute to the others in the room.

“What do you think,” he asks calmly before taking a lingering sip, letting the warmth ease his awareness of just what the admission means.

He watches the slow blink Namjoon indulges in, catalogs the tightening of Hoseok’s mouth at the confirmation of what they’ve all been aware of since the upstart gang south of their territory tried to kidnap the boss’s boyfriend-- and, really, since the moment they saw Yoongi apologize to a college student who looked equal parts oblivious and exhausted as he’d unknowingly ruined a job they’d spent countless hours reconning when he’d blown their cover and almost run Yoongi over in his hurry to get to class one autumn afternoon.

“Okay,” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “What’s your plan?”

It’s been awhile since Yoongi last had a chance to show off. While he hates-- absolutely detests-- the reason for it now, he can’t deny the excitement curling at the edges of his conscious. He can privately acknowledge that, perhaps, he’s grown a little too complacent at the top. If a third-rate gang was able to get the drop on the most important person in Yoongi’s life than his next move had to be both dramatic and mercenary.

Standing up, he throws back the rest of the whiskey and sets the glass down with a dull thud. Flipping through his old-school Rolodex, he comes to a stop at a few entries into P and lets his finger run over a name he knows as well as Hoseok’s or Namjoon’s.

When he looks up, his friends, his seconds-in-command recognize the glint in his eye. This is the boss who dragged himself from the gutter to the best goddamn penthouse in Gangnam. This is the man who took a ragtag group of misfits and polished their rough edges until Seoul’s Elite were positively begging for their company.

This is Min Yoongi at his best, at his sharpest.

At his most lethal.

“First, you’ll bring me the men who thought they could lay hands on what’s mine,” Yoongi starts and Namjoon spares a moment to think, for the thousandth time, that he’s glad he’s always been on his hyung’s side. The look on his face would almost enough to chill him to the bone if he were still capable of it. “And they’ll learn why hens don’t hunt foxes. I’m sure Jimin won’t mind having a little fun tonight-- call him and let him know I have a job for him and I’ll triple his usual rate if he can have everything ready by sunset tomorrow.”

Stepping around his desk, Yoongi walks over to one of his bookshelves reaches for the safe, spinning the combination with casual grace. He pulls out a worn journal. Flipping it open, his eyes rake over the pages until he lands on the entry he’s been looking for. “Jin, that bastard, owes me a favor after I gave him that tip last month on the Mangjoul robberies. He’ll have warrants and half the department ready to raid every goddamn property they have in the city within twelve hours.”

Hoseok’s raises a brow. “No half measures then,” he drawls.

Yoongi’s head snaps up and Hoseok almost-- almost-- recoils at the look of absolute fury on his face.

“No, Hoseok-ah, no half-measures.” Yoongi replies evenly. “They didn’t hold back when they kidnapped Jungkook from his own goddamn apartment. They didn’t shy away from taking my fucking boyfriend, from laying their filthy fucking hands on him, from making him think for even a second that he wasn’t completely safe-- that I wouldn’t keep him safe at any and all costs.”

Yoongi takes a deep breath before some tension drops from his shoulders. He continues calmly, “First they’re going to lose but then, Hoseok, they’re going to burn. They’re going to burn until they’re nothing but ashes-- until just hearing the name of their pathetic little gang makes everyone run in the other direction because they don't want to risk my wrath. They bit off more than they could chew and I can’t wait to make them see what happens when they wake up the goddamn giant.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon nods once. “What are you going to do? It’ll take time for Jimin to draft the plans and you said it yourself, Jin will be running around all day getting his men in place for a city-wide sting.”

Closing the book with a snap, Yoongi places it carefully back in the safe before closing the door. “I’m going to Jungkook.”

He turns around to see both Hoseok and Namjoon looking at him with blank expressions. He merely lifts a brow. “What,” he asks. “My boyfriend was fucking abducted this afternoon. I’ve tried my damnedest to keep him out of this world and I know he has to be more shaken up than he’s letting on. I need to comfort him.”

The unspoken I want to comfort him rings in the air.

Shaking his head, Hoseok studies Yoongi for a long moment. “There was a time you wouldn’t have stopped until you’d ran yourself into the ground. You would have destroyed everything that came after you and nearly yourself in the process.”

Yoongi shrugs. “There was a time I didn’t have Jungkook.”

Sighing, Namjoon stands up and walks over to Yoongi until he can clap a hand over his shoulder. “I might’ve tried to discourage your relationship in the beginning. Hell, I still had my doubts this morning, but I can’t deny that kid’s good for you, Hyung. He makes you human.”

Yoongi allows the hand on his shoulder to stay and stares at Namjoon silently for a long moment. “He makes me think that’s not bad, being human. I find myself unable-- and very much unwilling-- to lose that.”

Laughing dryly, Hoseok approaches the two of them and while his tone holds a gravitas appropriate for the situation, his eyes are lighter than they’ve been all night. “Go to him, then. Tell him we’ve got his back and hopefully the two of you can rest for a few fucking hours before everything explodes.”

Yoongi nods once, lets his mouth twist into a wry grin. “Literally.”

He walks out of his office to the sound of Jimin picking up Namjoon’s call. As he makes his way towards the stairs, he feels lighter than he’d imagine he could after this hell of a day.

Anticipation thrums under his skin and he feels the sweet release of vengeance lighting up his veins. He didn’t get to be the leader of the biggest gang in South Korea by resting on his laurels and while he’ll privately acknowledge that the gang taught him a valuable lesson, he can’t deny that he’s looking forward to meting out their punishment.

He’s dealt with things that wouldn’t be amiss in nightmares. He’s become a nightmare in his own right and he relishes the image, the rush of euphoria at the knowledge that in certain circles, his name is synonymous with the bogeyman.

It lingers in his periphery, that he might enjoy being the monster in the dark a little too much.

But, he thinks, as he opens the door to their bedroom, he’d become the devil himself if it meant keeping Jungkook with him.

His own Persephone, he thinks, and it makes his chest ache-- the absolute devotion he has to the man in his bed and the nonexistent limits that he’d go to in order to ensure he never left his side.

Knowing that he might be woken up at any moment, even if Hoseok and Namjoon are determined to see him rest, Yoongi doesn’t change out of his suit. He does shuck off his jacket, though, throwing it over the back of the chair he passes on his way to his bed.

Jungkook’s there, sleeping peacefully and Yoongi spares a moment-- a few moments-- to watch him in the sparse moonlight.

His breath stalls at the cut on his cheek, the dull bruising along his jaw. Clamping his teeth on a wave of rage so intense that his vision wavers, Yoongi’s hand is steady and gentle as he brushes the hair away from his boyfriend’s face.

No matter how gentle he thought he was being, though, it wakes Jungkook. “Hyung?”

Making a little noise of confirmation, Yoongi eases into the bed until he’s just in front of him, until he’d barely have to lean forward to kiss him. “It’s just me, Kook-ah. Go back to sleep, babe.”

His heart turns over as Jungkook seems to melt back into the sheets. Yoongi thinks he’s fallen back asleep until he’s startled by a surprisingly coherent voice asking, “You’re going to make them pay, aren’t you?”

A little taken aback, Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. He considers Jungkook in the low light as a dozen answers flit through his brain.

He considers deflecting, urging Jungkook to go back to sleep. There’s something about this moment, however, that makes him decide against it.

In the stillness of their bedroom where the smell of antiseptic is nauseatingly present, in the tone he detects in Jungkook’s voice-- surprisingly cold, a tremor of pleasure hiding underneath at the prospect-- Yoongi decides to bare it all.

Distantly, he thinks that this is the last thing he has to show Jungkook-- not just his world but the joy Yoongi takes in it, in his role in his kingdom of sorts. Because that’s what this is all about-- someone dared to come for him by way of Jungkook and the mere thought of anyone daring to get one over on him, on Min fucking Yoongi, is unconscionable. Yoongi is the king of this little corner of the world and he’ll retain his power through any means necessary.

He’s never minded dirtying his hands when it matters, takes vicious pride in the blood staining his hands like so much ichor.

It’s a test of sorts, he reckons, telling Jungkook the truth, revealing this one last area of his life, his soul, but whatever’s been holding him back for a year just seems to have disintegrated.

“Yeah, Jungkook. I’m going to make them pay,” he admits in a low voice.

He doesn’t expect Jungkook’s next question, tone harsh. “Why?”

“Because you’re mine,” he answers simply and hears his boyfriend’s sharp breath. He’s not backing away, though. There’s no sharp denial, no rebuttal, and emboldened, Yoongi leans forward until he’s pressing Jungkook onto his back, until he’s leaning over him, until he gets enough of this-- whatever this is.

Yoongi watches as Jungkook lets him move him, eyes trailing his throat as he swallows hard. There’s a glint in his eye that dares Yoongi to keep going.

So he does.

“Isn’t that right, Kook-ah,” Yoongi whispers against his ear and it’s heady, the rush he feels at Jungkook’s shiver, at the way he arches imperceptibly closer to Yoongi. “You’re mine. And nobody gets to touch what’s mine because I don’t play fair and I don’t share. You belong to me and it’s my job to protect you. I’m sorry I didn’t do that today, baby, but don’t worry. I’ll make it so that no one except me ever dares lay a finger on you again.”

“Good.”

Jungkook’s voice is raw but there’s a strength in it that Yoongi can’t help but admire. Jungkook isn’t running for the smelling salts-- he’s not running away from Yoongi-- and he vows right then and there that he’ll never let him go.

He leans into the hand that runs through his hair, letting out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Yoongi almost doesn’t hear the words that are breathed against his neck but he does and his ribs ache at the sheer effort of keeping everything inside that he feels for the man next to him.

“You forgot something, though, Hyung.”

Humming noncommittally, Yoongi only opens his eyes when he feels the fingers in his hair tighten abruptly, pulling a sharp gasp from him. He meets Jungkook’s dark eyes, is greeted with his grin that’s just a little mean.

He lifts a brow expectantly, well aware that Jungkook sees under his impassive face to the excitement that’s sharpened his features just enough at the imperious treatment. “What did I forget, baby?”

“You belong to me, too.”

Yoongi laughs and it’s a little rough around the edges. His eyes bore into Jungkook’s for a moment that seems to freeze before he’s shaking his head slowly. “No,” he murmurs. “I’ve always known that.”

He has a brief moment to see Jungkook’s expression ease into it’s more familiar happiness, without the trace of darkness lingering around the edges, and then their lips meet in a kiss that’s a barely-hidden power play.

Yoongi is more than happy to admit that it’s a draw.

As he drifts off, Yoongi knows that tomorrow will be busy. He’ll have to coordinate his plan with all parties, execute his vengeance flawlessly in a manner only befitting a king of his stature. His hands already ache at the prospect of what he’ll have done by this time tomorrow, at the new blood that will seep into his skin as yet another badge of honor.

He’ll have Jungkook by his side, though, and the thought eases the monster in him, the insatiable beast that’s always craved more-- more money, more power, more everything.

He curls around Jungkook and dreams of blood.

#omg my first bts fic!! #how exciting!!! #bts fic #yoonkook #yoonkook fic #my writing #sugakookie fic #idk what to tag this as lol i'm trying my best #yoongi x jungkook

[kerfufflewatch]

just 1500 hastily-written words of “what if Hanzo did the incredibly cheesy thing of learning to speak bits of Spanish for McCree”

(if any of it’s wrong, I sincerely apologize and please correct me! I know some Spanish but it’s been awhile, so it’s really a combination of my sparse knowledge and that of Google :| )

--

McCree steps off the shuttle into the Watchpoint hangar, weighed down by the bone-deep exhaustion of a ten-day mission and the intense desire to collapse face-down in his bed and remain unmoving for as long as circumstances will allow. On the ride home, he had entertained the notion of a shower and food before the collapsing, but at this point, not even those could sway him from his course.

However, when he catches sight of Hanzo waiting by the entrance–waiting for him, he realizes with no small amount of joy, because Genji had already passed through– he decides bed can wait just a couple more minutes.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” McCree sighs, leaning immediately into Hanzo before Hanzo can even lift his arms, letting Hanzo take half the weight of his body. Hanzo chuckles, the sound of it rich and warm to McCree’s ears, and envelopes him in a welcoming embrace. “Hey, sweetness.”

“Hello, Jesse,” Hanzo murmurs. “¿Como estas, mi querido?”

“Cansado, pero bien,” McCree answers absently, face pressed into the crook of Hanzo’s neck. Then he pauses. Lifts his head. Looks down at a smiling Hanzo, whose eyes glimmer with mischief.

“Where in the hell’d you learn that?” he asks.

“Internet.”

“Really.”

Now the mischief is replaced by a hint of apprehension. “Is that alright? I admit, I only know a little, and I do not fully understand the rules of the language yet . . .”

McCree had been paying so little attention in his exhaustion that he has to think on it now, take a few seconds to remember what Hanzo actually said. Once he recalls the words, however, and the way they sounded in Hanzo’s rough, low voice next to his ear, he grins.

“Reckon you ought to tell me everything you’ve learned,” he says. Hanzo smiles, too, and as he leans up to give him a proper welcome-home kiss, the words echo in McCree’s memory.

Mi querido. My dear.

–

Hanzo doesn’t tell him everything he’s learned. Instead, he makes McCree wait.

He hasn’t endeavored to learn the whole language. At least, not yet. “Just a few things,” he explains, embarrassed, when McCree hassles him about it (in English and Spanish, just in case he can get Hanzo to respond in the latter). “I … thought you might like it, if I learned a little.”

McCree does. Very much.

Hanzo drops the occasional word or phrase when McCree isn’t expecting it, as though he is deliberately attempting to surprise him with a new bit of Spanish here and there. McCree shouldn’t be so surprised every time, but he is, pleasantly so.

Hanzo’s accent isn’t flawless–something about the transition from the strong, syllabic tones of Japanese to the smoother lilt of Spanish seems to trip him up at first. There are a few words that aren’t pronounced quite right, although never so badly as to mix them up, and he’s pretty clearly not a native speaker. Still, it seems like Spanish was developed over some thousands of years just for the day when Hanzo would start speaking it, because pronunciation or no, every word that passes his lips sounds like the sweetest music to McCree’s ears.

He can’t pretend, either, that he isn’t awful flattered by the effort Hanzo’s putting in. Hanzo doesn’t devote his attention to projects he does not deem important, after all.

–

“No, listen, listen,” McCree insists, laughing. He gestures with his drink, overexaggerating in his tipsiness. “You gotta roll the Rs! It’s not that hard!”

“It absolutely is,” Hanzo responds, half-angry and half-laughing. He points an accusing finger at McCree, sloshing the drink that’s in the same hand. “You only do not know because you grew up speaking it!”

“No, it ain’t. If a bunch of thirteen-year-old white kids in middle school could do it, so can you. Listen. You just gotta–tip of your tongue behind your top teeth and sorta blow past it.” He demonstrates, trilling an elongated R sound with the practiced ease of 38 years of learning. Hanzo frowns comically at him.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” he says before immediately attempting it himself. McCree swallows down his drunken giggles as he watches Hanzo try a good four or five times, visibly overthinking the position of his tongue in his mouth and making awkward R noises that could be considered flipped once or twice, perhaps, but not properly rolled.

Then he does it, just once, and he looks as surprised as McCree is. “Hey, there you go,” McCree says.

Hanzo makes the noise again, a perfectly rolled R. Pleased with himself, he smiles and says, “¿Te gusta, mi amor?”, unnecessarily but flawlessly rolling the ending R.

McCree’s mouth runs dry. Hanzo must see how that affects him because he smiles, slow and seductive. “Mi amor,” he murmurs again, but he hits the R too hard and flubs the pronunciation, McCree snorts, unable to help himself, and Hanzo frowns deeply.

“Fuck,” he says, sending McCree into fresh peals of laughter.

–

“Buena suerte,” he says before McCree boards the shuttle for an assignment in Russia, followed by a dry kiss to his jaw. McCree fancies Lady Luck does favor him a little more that evening when his infiltration goes off without a hitch.

“Ten cuidado,” he says before they separate on a shared assignment, and he smiles a little when McCree repeats the sentiment.

“Te extraño,” he murmurs, averting his gaze, when a mission keeps him away a bit too long and their video calls are their only chances to see each other for two weeks. That one makes McCree’s chest ache viciously.

--

“What do you think?” McCree asks, turning to Hanzo for approval. He hasn’t worn this suit in a good long time, and he’s not too sure about the fit anymore, but he’s not keen on getting a new one and he can’t very well walk into tonight’s swanky event in jeans and spurs.

Hanzo eyes him up and down slowly, reverently. McCree lets himself feel a little proud. Must not fit too bad after all.

“It is very good,” Hanzo says. He steps into McCree’s space, taking the ends of his tie in both hands. He leans up, brushing his lips against McCree’s jaw. “Estoy muy guapo.”

McCree can’t help the sudden laugh that bursts forth. Hanzo looks up at him, startled and affronted. “What?” he demands. “I am certain that was the right word.”

McCree coughs, clears his throat, swallows down the chuckles that still threaten to be known. “I know what you were goin’ for, sugar,” he says, “but you conjugated that a bit wrong. Just called yourself handsome.”

Hanzo frowns thoughtfully, and McCree can all but see him running through the words in his head, trying to pinpoint the mistake.

“Well,” Hanzo says after a moment, “that one is also true.“

McCree doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter this time, and Hanzo laughs too, shaking against McCree’s chest with the tie still gripped in both hands. “Well,” McCree says, “thank ya anyway, sweetheart. The effort’s appreciated.”

–

That suit only last about six hours. Between the two bullet holes in the back of the coat (a small price to pay, considering the bullets almost ended up in the back of him), and now Hanzo’s hands desperately ripping the thing off of him in the heat of the you-were-almost-hurt-and-I-need-you-now frenzy that followed the near-miss, it never stood a chance. McCree doesn’t mind much.

“What do you want?” McCree asks breathlessly as Hanzo pushes him back onto the bed, already worming a hand past the band of Hanzo’s pants.

“Anything,” Hanzo says through his teeth. His hands come up to frame McCree’s face and draw him into a hard, sweet kiss, and when they break, he lingers, lips brushing McCree’s.

“Tu,” he murmurs. “Solo te necesito.”

Hearing Hanzo use Spanish to say he needs him is certainly more of a turn-on that McCree had expected and immediately lights a spark in his gut, but it’s the utter sincerity in Hanzo’s voice, the grip on his face that’s just this side of too tight, the worry in Hanzo’s brow that hasn’t unknit since McCree first got back from the mission that cause something in McCree’s chest to twist painfully.

“Alright,” McCree says, throat tight. “You got me. You always got me.”

–

In a way, McCree sees this one coming. It’s three syllables and damn near everyone in the Western world has heard it in some form, so he imagines Hanzo probably picked up on it ages before he actually started trying to learn anything. It should be cheesy and terrible. 

Still, though, he is not prepared–not for the way Hanzo’s lips form the words against the back of his shoulder as they lie together in bed, not for the hitch in Hanzo’s voice as he starts to speak, not for the way Hanzo’s hands tighten minutely around his middle, not for the low, nervous, wonderful rasp of Hanzo’s voice murmuring, “Te amo.”

It takes a long moment for McCree to trust himself to speak. He wraps a hand around Hanzo’s, brings it to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of the knuckles. “Me too,” he whispers. “Me too, darlin’.”

#Overwatch #McHanzo #Kerfuffle Fic #it's okay Hanzo I can't roll my Rs either #that entire scene is courtesy of my dear friend Aeron who has TRIED to teach me to roll my Rs #and who insisted there be 4k of McCree teaching Hanzo #it's not 4k but it's a few hundred

[masterofmunson]

Hopelessly Devoted

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Their lives have changed since her diagnosis, but the spark hasn't faded. Part two to Blind Devotion.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: vague mentions of smut & sexy times, angst, flUFF, swearing probably

BLIND DEVOTION

My wife is going blind.

It had been almost two months since her diagnosis and her vision hasn't gotten worse, which is good, I guess. She can still see, so the eye drops are working, which makes her happy. Since her diagnosis, she quit her job at the hospital and returned to helping me at the gym with the guys. I know she misses the hospital and it hurts seeing her so upset. It was her dream job and it was ripped away from her.

I can't help but feel guilty, though. Now that she's helping me and the boys at the gym, I see her more during the day than I use to when she worked at the hospital and I like it better this way. We've grown so much closer, if that's even possible.

She's adjusting as best as she can. She has a cane for when she has bad days with her vision and she can get around the house on her own just fine. She gets frustrated sometimes but still finishes the task at hand. She's so determined to do things on her own and I'm always amazed by her. I was before her diagnosis, it just hits me more now. I know she's just adjusting, but she's so strong. She's always been.

Since her diagnosis, it's like we’re in the beginning stages of our relationship. This has brought us so incredibly close that I'm more in love with her than before, if that's even possible. We kind of stopped trying for kids, too. I know she still wants kids, but we both agreed to wait so she can get use to doing things on her own with her deteriorating vision, but that hasn't stopped us from having a healthy and very active sex life.

I make sure she knows each time that I still love her more and more as time passes and that Fuchs Dystrophy won't tear us apart. Some days are better than others when it comes to what we do in bed. I've made it very clear that if anything got too much for her that we would stop, but she always finishes. When I know she's being short with me throughout the day, I know she's frustrated and angry which always leads to rough sex. I’ve told her that it's okay if she wants to take her frustrations out on me and she was hesitant at first, until she realized how therapeutic it was. It felt good anyways and she'd always apologize afterwards even though she knows that she doesn't have to. I enjoy having her take control every once and awhile and she knows how to take care of me.

When she's quiet all day, I know she's letting her demons get to her. Those days are when I take care of her, when I show just how much I love her. I kiss away her worry and cause her enough pleasure for her to forget, even for the briefest of moments, that she's losing her vision.

However, with her deteriorating vision, she's starting to become more insecure and I hate seeing her like that. She wears sunglasses a lot in doors, even though we both know that she can't see anything with them on. She doesn't want anyone to see her eyes and I hate it because I love them. She's not cold towards me anymore now that she's starting to accept her blindness. We started to go to therapy because I didn't want her to bottle up her emotions. I know that feeling all too well. She was there for me while I recovered from my past as the Soldier. She was hesitant, but she didn't want this to affect our marriage, and I certainly didn't want it too, either.

Therapy helps her immensely. She's more honest and open then she was before and she's raw with me. I know she thinks that she's a burden because of the help she may need on occasion and I have to constantly remind her that she's not and she never will be. Now she's not afraid to just tell me when something's wrong or that something's bothering her instead of keeping it to herself.

I wake up one morning to the feeling of her hands running down my arm and chest. I smirk into my pillow and tug her closer to my chest. My eyes open slowly and I'm met with beautiful wide ones. A small smirk adorns her face and her hands move up to my face. Her smooth fingers brush against my cheek and I cheekily squeeze her bum. She whispers a breathy and tired good morning before I return it. I roll on top of her before pulling on her torso so she meets me in a kiss.

Her breath is hot against my skin and my metal hand practically rips away the clothing attached to her body. I'm needy for her and she's greedily rubbing herself against my crotch. My hips grind against her and she moves hers up at a steady pace to create more friction between us. My hands push her legs apart and she captures my mouth into a fiery kiss.

The comforter slides off the bed and her hands find my waist, sliding my boxers down my legs. I kick them off and pull her up onto her knees. I bring her to my lap and her legs spread around mine. My metal fingers find her folds and her hands squeeze my shoulders.

Our grunts and moans fill the room and she gasps into my mouth. I smirk against her and stimulant her until her juices coat my fingers. My name slips past her lips and her eyes fall shut until they open in shock.

“B-Bucky. I think I'm going to be sick,” she pants as I watch her face drain of her natural complexion. I quirk an eyebrow at her and she gently shoves me off her and she scrambled to the bathroom. I pull my boxers back on my hips and hurry after her in the bathroom. She's kneeling over the toilet and I gently brush her hair out of her face and run my metal hand down her back. I watch her knuckles squeeze the toilet as she throws up her dinner.

After her nausea passes, I help her into one of my t-shirts and help her to her feet. She brushes her teeth and leans against the counter and sighs, running her hand through her knotty hair.

“Didn't mean to ruin the mood,” she chuckles lightly, scratching her thighs, completely ignoring the elephant in the room.

“Y/n,” I state, eyeing her.

“Bucky,” she mocks.

“When was the last time you were on your period?” I ask.

Her eyes widen in shock. It was like she dreaded the thought of being pregnant. “I don't know,” she whispers. “Maybe a month and a half?”

“Y/n, baby,” my voice is hopefully desperate. I want her to be pregnant. I want our family to start growing. I want her to be just as happy as I'm starting to become, but her face says otherwise. She dreads the thought of being pregnant now. It scares her to go through pregnancy while she's going blind. She wants to see our newborn more than anything. “Are you… are you pregnant?” I'm careful with the tone of my voice as I ask her. I don't want to sound too hopeful. I know she wouldn't purposefully hurt my feelings, but the look she's giving me betrays the exact opposite feeling that I was hoping for.

“I don't know,” she answers in a whisper. I know she's telling the truth because she looks terrified. “I just thought that because I'm helping you at the gym now that it was messing with my cycle.” Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and it breaks my heart.

“Hey… hey, everything will be just fine,” I reassure her softly, pulling her into my chest. Her arms wrap around my torso and she squeezes my back. I kiss the top of her head and run my hand down her back. “We’ll just go to the doctor to know for sure, alright? I'll call Helen, go get dressed, baby.”

She nods I kiss her reassuringly. She moves past me and steps into the closet. I pull on a pair of jeans and the red henley that she loves on me. I kiss her cheek and walk out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. I unplug my phone from its cord and quickly dial Doctor Cho. I explain our situation as best as I can and she demands us to visit right away. She says it softly, but it's a firm demand. I can't help but wonder if she already knows for sure that she's pregnant without actually seeing her. I say goodbye to her and hang up quickly. I hurry back into the bedroom and admire my wife as she does her hair and minimal makeup.

“Ready to go, darlin’?” I ask softly, kissing her cheek tenderly. She hums, nodding in response. I walk out of the bathroom and she trails behind me, shutting off the bathroom and bedroom lights. She slips her gym shoes on and drapes her purse over her body and snaps her cane into place. I toss my wallet and phone into my pocket and lace my fingers into hers. I open the door and we step out. I lock the door and we trek towards the elevator and down to the garage where our one and only car resided. I open the door for her and she slides inside. I move over to the driver's side and start the car.

The drive to Stark Tower is quick and quiet. I glance over at Y/n every once and awhile and notice the constant shake in her left leg. I move my hand from the wheel and rest it on her thigh. I squeeze her skin gently and her fingers lace with mine, leaving both our hands on her thigh. I bring her palm up to my mouth and kiss the back of her hand while keeping my eyes on the road.

Once we've reached our destination, I park the car in Tony's garage (our ID’s still work, thank God. It's usually just for emergencies, and this was.) and set the car into park. I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn towards her. I take her hand in mine again and rub soft patterns on the top of her palm. I kiss her knuckles and she turns towards me.

“Whatever the result is, I’ll love you no matter what, okay?” I reassure her and she swallows hard, nodding. We get out of the car silently and I lock it before joining Y/n. My hand finds hers and we walk into the building towards the medical wing.

Our journey seems to stop and go whenever we run into someone we worked with while we were agents. It's a sweet reunion with close friends, but the more we stopped, the more antsy we both became.

We eventually made it towards medbay and thankfully ran into Helen right away. She gave Y/n and I tight hugs before ushering us into an exam room.

“Bucky told me what happened this morning when he called me. From what it sounds like, you may be pregnant, so we're going to do the test just either confirm it or say that it's a false alarm, okay?” Helen states gently, watching her best friend with careful eyes. We both nod and she hands her a plastic container with a bright orange lid with her name on a sticker printed onto it. Y/n walks herself to the bathroom across the hall and I nervously tap my foot against the hard, white tile floor beneath me.

I feel a cold, calloused hand grab onto my flesh hand and I look up from my spot on the floor and my eyes lock with Helen’s. I swallow hard and look away. “Whatever the outcome is, she knows that you'll love her no matter what,” Helen reassures me with soft eyes.

I nod silently and the door clicks open, my wife steps back inside, handing the container to Helen. She steps over to the sink in the room and washes her hands thoroughly. She moves to sit down next to me again and places her hand in mine, squeezing tightly.

“The results should take no more than 10 minutes. I'll be back with them as soon as the test is complete,” Helen states, nodding at us before leaving the room, clothing the door behind us.

It's silent for awhile until she turns towards me with tears in her eyes. I frown and brush my fingers against her cheek, wiping away her tears. “What's wrong, baby?” I ask softly, searching for an answer.

“I'm sorry, Bucky!” she cries, the frown on her face deepens and it breaks my heart. “I know you want me to be pregnant and when you asked me if I knew for sure I knew it wasn't the reaction that you wanted. I'm sorry. I'm just… scared.”

My face softens and I kiss her lips softly, holding her delicate face in my hands. I can taste her salty tears and her lashes brush against my cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for, Y/n.” I state firmly. “I know you're scared and that's okay. If you are pregnant, we’ll figure out a way to make this work. We always do. If not, that's okay, too.”

She nods wordlessly as I wipe away the remaining tears off her face. She hugs my arm to her chest and I hold her close to me. “It wouldn't be that bad to be pregnant, would it?” she asks rhetorically.

I shake my head, agreeing with her, a small smile adorns my face. “No, it wouldn't.”

We fall into a comfortable silence and she hold me against her as I do the same to her. My fingers move back and forth on her arms and she hums, resting her head against my shoulder. There's a soft knock at the door a few minutes later, signally that the test is complete and that Helen is coming back into the room. We sit up and separate until only our hands touch. She ducks her head inside the room before stepping inside, a sheet of paper rests in between her fingers as she shuts the door behind her. She sits across from us with an unreadable expression written across her face. It unnerves me that I can't read her. I've been trained to read people for so long that not being able to read someone frightens me. Helen silently hands the piece of paper to her. I watch her unfold the paper carefully and her eyes squint so she's able to read it. I squeeze her hand and she looks over to me with tears in her eyes.

“I'm pregnant! We're having a baby!” she exclaims through her tears as a smile appears on her face.

I grin at her and hug her tightly, kissing her temple. Her hands grab my back and squeeze tightly. Her head rests in my neck and her mouth gently presses against my skin. She pulls away and I press a firm kiss to her mouth. I pull away and we turn our attention back to Doctor Cho.

“Congratulations, guys,” she grins, “you're about six weeks pregnant. We’ll go through the basics and have you come back at the end of the first trimester and at the beginning of the second trimester.”

We nod and she dives into what to do during pregnancy and what to expect. Her hand never left mine as we listened and drank in every word that Helen spoke. It took almost an hour as she filled us in and answered our questions we both had. We say our goodbyes and hurry back into the garage, the slip of paper rests securely in her purse. She spins toward me as I reach to open her door. She throws her arms around me and kisses me hard.

My hand pushes against her lower back and she's pressed up against me. We pull away and I kiss her cheek tenderly before wrapping my arms around her. “I love you,” I whisper close to her ear.

Her arms hook around my neck and her lips ghost the shell of my ear. “I love you,” she returns, pressing a soft tender kiss to my neck.

We separate and I kneel down so I'm level with her tummy. I push her sweater up towards her bra line and press my warm lips to her growing belly with our baby inside. Y/n chuckles quietly and cards her hands through my hair. “I'm going to take very good care of you and mommy until you join us, sweet one,” I mutter against the skin of her belly, leaving a soft kiss in the center of her tummy.

Y/n chuckles quietly and I glance up at her. “The baby already has you wrapped around her little fingers!”

“Her? You think the baby's a girl?” I ask, returning to my feet.

She nods, smirking at me. “I do. I think my maternal instincts are already kicking in.”

I grin at her and press one more kiss to her lips before opening the door for her. She slides inside and I close the door. I move around to the driver's seat and start the car. I turn towards her and grab her hand. “Do you want ice cream to celebrate?”

She raises her brows at me as if to say: “What kind of question is that? Of course I want ice cream.”

“I would love ice cream,” she answers, moving her hand into my hair, brushing strands of hair out of my face. “I think the baby wants peanut butter and chocolate ice cream and I want cake batter ice cream.”

“Oh really?” I tease with a knowing smirk.

“Mhm,” she hums with a curt nod.

I grin at her and kiss her lips quickly before turning my attention back to the car. Her hand in mine and mine in hers. We were going to be just fine.

hi guys!! enjoy part 2! this might be a series, by the way ! :)

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[5hfanfiction]

Come Back, Be Here - Chapter 50

Trigger Warning

It is nighttime when Camila finally returns home from the video shoot. She tried to leave set right after she heard the door slam and couldn’t find her wife anywhere, but Eric reminded her of the contract that she signed with them. She just looked at him incredulously, as if waiting on him to say just kidding, go be with your wife. Instead, the man just shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

When she finally gets inside the apartment, she sees that all the lights are off. The Latina frowns as she drops her stuff onto the floor. She immediately makes her way to the bedroom she shares with Lauren. The musician has every intention of walking into the room and begging for her wife’s forgiveness. She puts her hand on the door knob and tries to push it open, but it won’t budge.

It’s locked. Lauren’s locked her out.

Camila has come home late many nights, but the door to their room has always remained unlocked. The younger Cuban’s heart shatters when she thinks about the fact that Lauren didn’t want her to come in and say goodnight. Maybe Lauren didn’t care if she came home at all. Not wanting to give up easily, Camila gently knocks on the door.

“Lauren, can you open up please?” The brunette pleads, her voice shaky. She waits patiently to hear footsteps on the floor, signaling that Lauren has gotten up from the bed and is coming to unlock the door. After she waits for a minute, she realizes Lauren has made no move to get up and unlock the door.

“Baby, please let me in. I’m so sorry I had no idea that the video would be that… sexual.” Camila cringes when thoughts of what she had to do earlier in the day with Zayn flood her mind. “Lo, I’m sorry. Please let me in.” Camila’s knocks become more frantic.

Camila continues to knock and plead, but after 30 minutes pass and the door is still locked, she dejectedly turns around and presses her back to the door. She slowly slides her back down the wood until her butt hits the floor. Deciding that she doesn’t want to sleep too far from Lauren tonight, she curls up in a ball by the door outside their bedroom.

She wipes at the tears that are silently spilling from her eyes. She has no idea that Lauren is inside the room, doing the exact same thing.

The next morning, Lauren wakes up and starts getting ready for work. She has to add an extra layer of powder on her face in an attempt to hide the bags under her eyes. The brunette didn’t get much sleep last night. She couldn’t stop crying long enough to fall asleep.

Once she’s finished getting ready for the day, she opens up the door. Her heart clenches when she sees her wife laying on the floor in front of their bedroom door, wrapped in the blanket that is usually draped over the back of the couch. She immediately bends down and scoops the smaller brunette up into her arms and carries her back into the room. She gently lays her sleeping wife on their bed and tucks her in.

A sigh escapes her lips when she takes in Camila’s disheveled features. Her cheeks are tear stained and her nose has a tint of red to it, which Lauren guesses is from her wiping it so much last night while crying. She gently reaches out her hand and pushes a strand of Camila’s hair away from her face.

“I’ll always belong to you. No matter what happens, no matter what the future holds.” Lauren whispers. “I’ll always belong to you.” She leans down and places a kiss to her wife’s temple. Her lips linger on Camila’s warm skin for a minute before she finally pulls back. “I love you, Camz.”

With that, the brunette exits the room and their apartment and heads to work for the day.

Halfway during her work day, Lauren hears her boss yell for her to come to the front of the store. Currently, she’s in the back sorting out the art that will be displayed at the next art exhibit that’s coming up soon. Not wanting to keep her boss waiting, she makes her way out of the back room and to the front of the store. When she gets in view of the front door, she stops in her tracks when she sees her wife standing there with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. She knows she should feel elated and happy to see Camila, but she can’t help but wonder how many more times her wife is going to keep messing up and then bringing her flowers as an apology. Lauren loves Camila more than life itself, but it’s going to take more than flowers to solve their marital problems.

“Judging by the look on your face, I guess I should’ve gone with food instead of flowers huh?” Camila cracks a playful grin, but it quickly fades from her features when she notices that Lauren’s face remains blank. “Baby, I know you’re tired of me fucking up and then bringing flowers. I’m tired of it too. Please let me fix this. Let me fix us.” Camila steps forward slowly in attempt to reason with her wife.

“You’re never around long enough to fix anything, Camila.” Lauren deadpans and Camila sighs as she sets the bouquet down beside her feet. Once her hands are free, she closes the distance between the two of them.

“Let me take you out tonight. Please? After we go to the party that Epic is throwing tonight we can do anything you want to do. Anything.” Camila offers and Lauren’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I already made plans for tonight. Don’t you remember me telling you weeks ago that I made plans to hang out with Keana tonight?” Lauren questions and Camila’s shoulders deflate.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten. Well why don’t you hang out with Keana while I go to the party and then we can spend some time together after we are both finished?” The younger brunette proposes and Lauren shakes her head.

“Camz, I told Keana I’d devote the whole night to her since we never see each other. I’m sorry.” Camila nods in understanding, the lack of remorse on Lauren’s face making her heart hurt.

“Okay, baby. Have fun with Keana and I’ll see you when you get back.” Camila forces a smile, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Lauren. The older brunette wants to feel bad that she cannot go to Camila’s party with her tonight, but she did tell her weeks ago that she made these plans with Keana. It just shows Lauren once again how little Camila has been paying attention to her lately. “I’ll go now. I don’t want to get you fired.” The younger Cuban leans in and places a quick kiss to the corner of Lauren’s mouth. She doesn’t think she deserves to feel Lauren’s lips on her own.

“Bye, Camz. Have fun tonight.” Lauren reaches out and grabs Camila’s hand. She gives it a quick squeeze and then releases it from her own.

The musician bends over and picks up the flowers. She extends them to Lauren and the girl takes them from her. “Bye, Lo. Love you.”

With that, Camila turns around and walks out of the art gallery. Once outside, she allows a few tears that she had been holding in to escape. She quickly wipes them away and makes her way back to their apartment to get ready for the party at the label tonight. Camila had hoped that Lauren would accompany her to it, but she can’t blame the girl. It’s her own fault that she didn’t remember that Lauren already had plans tonight.

Camila spends the next few hours getting ready and once she is dressed and ready, she heads to the party. Lauren, on the other hand, leaves straight from work to go over to Keana’s house. She brought her things with her so she could just get ready at her friend’s house.

Once Lauren and Keana finish getting ready, they head out for a night of fun in the city. They go from club to club and spend the night dancing and drinking. Knowing that she has to drive home tonight, Lauren cuts off her drinking at 9 pm so she will be sober enough to drive home by the end of the night. The green-eyed girl’s phone stays in her purse for most of the night so when she finally pulls it out around 11 pm, she sees that she has multiple missed calls from Camila and one voicemail. Excusing herself from the table in the club where she is currently sat with Keana and a few of Keana’s friends, she makes her way outside so she can listen to the voicemail. She immediately presses play and brings the device to her ear.

“Hi, Lolo! Just calling to say that I love you veryyyy much.” She hears a drunk Camila slur. Her voice sounds quivery and Lauren knows immediately that she’s been crying. “I am so sorry about everything that I’ve done. I can’t live without you. Please don’t divorce me. I know I don’t deserve you, but please don’t leave me.” Lauren hears a slight hiccup and then the voicemail ends.

Lauren’s chest feels heavy with guilt and worry. She feels guilty that she has led Camila to think that she wants to divorce her and she’s worried that her wife is drunk and upset at a party that she’s not even at. Once she remembers that drunk Camila likes to make dumb decisions that almost always put her life in danger, Lauren makes the decision to leave the club and go to the party.

After explaining the situation to Keana, Lauren immediately gets in her car and drives to the record label, where the party is being held. As soon as she arrives, she parks her car and makes her way inside.

She steps inside the building and immediately feels under-dressed. All the men are wearing suits and all the women are wearing long, elegant dresses. She, however, is dressed in a short red dress that stops at her upper thighs.

Lauren immediately starts searching through the crowd of strangers for her wife. After looking for a solid 20 minutes for the musician, she starts to get frustrated. She grabs the attention of the cocktail waiter that is walking past her.

“Excuse me, have you seen Camila Cabello-Jauregui? She’s a signed artist at this label.” Lauren asks rather loudly so the man can hear her over the music playing.

“Um I think I saw her, Eric, and a few other artists go up the stairs and into one of the rooms up there awhile ago.” The man answers.

Lauren thanks him and makes her way up the stairs that are located to the right of her. She opens the first door she sees, but it’s just an empty studio. When she comes to the second door, she hears voices cheering and so she turns the knob and pushes the door open. What she sees makes her blood run cold.

Lauren watches in shock as the woman she loves leans over a wooden table, puts a straw to one of her nostrils, and snorts a white line of powder up her nose.

Suddenly, it all makes sense to Lauren. Camila’s weight loss. Her nosebleeds. Her loss of appetite.

It all hits her like a ton of bricks and she cannot help the gasp that escapes her lips. The gasp successfully gets the attention of everyone in the room.

When Camila’s bloodshot brown eyes finally meet Lauren’s watery green ones, the younger Latina immediately wipes the excess powder from her nose with the back of her hand and quickly stands to her feet.

But she doesn’t make another move or sound. Neither of them do.

Both girls just stand there, staring into each other’s eyes, while both of their worlds come crashing down around them.

#UPDATE #AU #slash #trigger warning #camren #angst drama #family #humour #romance fluff #submission #come back be here

[drarrylovebot-blog]

I surrender

Warning: This one is long and doesn’t have a happy ending. I’m sorry, I’m going for sad or angsty but I don’t think I achieve both.

Prompt: I surrender everything to feel the chance to live again, I reach to you. A thousand dreams I still believe. I surrender my all to you. You let go.

“Harry James Potter, you are a downright sanctimonious git, you know that?” I can’t even say that to his face. I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, the ex Death Eater, the sole heir of the Malfoy family’s name, the one who survived living under the same roof with the Dark Lord himself, cannot say that sentence to Harry bloody Potter. Pathetic. I lock my suitcase and Apparate immediately from the Manor, having no intention to even glance back at this vile wretched place.

*

I served my sentence, you know, three years in Azkaban, with my verdict being reduced from 12 years only because the Saviour himself gave his piece of mind about my situation. My estranged father served 70 years, which he’ll outlive, I suspected. And my mother served only 5 years, again because of the Saviour’s statement. After three years, my life crumbled. I lived like a crippled man. I rarely feel hungry. I rarely sleep even though I feel tired every damn second of my life. I became a recluse for almost a year. I believe until now that if Pansy didn’t check on me on the third week of me being free, I won’t be here at all right now. Harry Potter forgave her action and the court didn’t sentence her for anything, but she’s on the Ministry’s probation to help rebuilding Hogwarts. After that she took one more year to finish her N.E.W.T and somehow passed with flying colours. On the third week after mw coming back to the Manor, she decided to check on me, found me on a not so promising condition, and devoted her time to help me. She made sure that I have food on my stomach everyday; she made sure I have a confidant; she even made sure that I have my old hair condition –each strand has to be as soft as silk. I owe her my life.

A year after that condition, I decided to stop being a crippled man. Mother would come home, so I put on weight, got back up on my feet, and gathered my wits to welcome her home. Mother won’t be the same after 5 years in a place as damned as Azkaban, I had to be strong, at least until she can got up on her feet. I put up a wall –not the old, arrogant, pretentious git façade; I find a job –small one at that, but I didn’t need the money, I need the distraction; I got out with Pansy, whom without me knowing had already befriended the Golden Trio; I made amends with people, but most importantly with myself. One year later, I had a stable income, I had befriended many people, whom supposed to hate me, I had brought Mother home.

I thought I had it all, but the fact was, fate hated my guts –I believe it still does. Eight months after coming home, Mother lied still on her bed while I wept disgracefully on her shoulder. I knew right then and there, I only had the strength to bury her; thus, I buried her body on the backyard of the Manor –muggle style.

Somehow news travelled to fast, but it was all too late, I had already became the old crippled man when my first visitor came knocking on the door.

*

This time the situation was worse. All the fight had left my body. I had no one else to fight for, didn’t I? The next week was blurred; I only can remember some bits here and there. Alcus, my house elf, found me the next morning passed out on my mother grave. The next time I woke up, Pansy was knocking on my door urgently, I didn’t let her come in. Alcus made sure I ate. I didn’t get up from bed. Alcus cleaned me using spell. I didn’t speak. I didn’t feel. I was calm, cold, and love to stare at my bedroom green wall.

After two weeks, I let people in. Pansy came. She was back on her mother mode. She would check on me, and then she would talk while I ignored her. It became a routine. After two months, Granger –no, it had become Weasley– also came. She would try to talk to me and draw a respond from me. She failed. She stopped becoming a routine after three weeks, but sometimes she still would come and check on me, told me stories, experiences, even gossips of the outside world. One day, Pansy stopped her long talks in the middle. And then she slapped me. That drew a respond from me.

“Oh, don’t you raise your eyebrow at me, you fucktard!” she yelled and got very angry with me, while her eyes kept dripping tears like a fountain. “Fuck you, Draco Malfoy! You don’t get to give a respond after ignoring me for almost three months. I took care of you once you came back from Azkaban for one damn year, and I know you just lost your mother, but you’re not the only one who is sad right now! Aunt Cissa was –and still is– the kindest person I had ever the pleasure of knowing, do you, Draco Malfoy, see me doing what you’re doing right now?! No! I come here to be your friend. I’m not saying that you have to forget and move on, I know people have their own way to cope, but this? This is not acceptable, Draco! You’ll die eventually if you keep this up! And I didn’t take care of you for a whole year only to watch you die in vain like this!” She yelled that last part and slapped me again before hugging my figure and crying helplessly. “Don’t do this to me, Draco… I can’t endure this –whatever this life is– without you.” She said softly. In that moment, I took some strength from my stiff body and channeled it to stroke her hair in a comforting motion. When she got out, she smiled at me, but she didn’t come back.

*

The next time I opened my eyes, a strangled sound escaped my throat. Harry Potter sat beside my bed. Potter? He only looked into my eyes. What are you doing here? Then he smiled. A breath got stuck on my throat.

“How are you? I’m here because, well I haven’t visited you for a long time, and I haven’t seen you either for awhile.” He shrugged. My brain could only conduct one thought. Pansy stop coming.

“Oh no!” Harry’s eyes widened comically. “No, she’s currently outside the country. Didn’t she tell you? Her boss asked her to take care of few things on their branch France.” I was the one who got surprised. Legilimens? That made him blushed and gave me a shy smile. “Well they said they couldn’t draw any respond from you, and they didn’t understand what you could possibly need, so I thought why not try to read your mind. I perfected that branch of magic, well at least enough for me to understand your mind, about three weeks ago.” The last one came out as a question. That’s rude, Potter. Don’t you learn that I’m quite good at Occlumency? I narrowed my eyes at him and put up a wall on my mind. That made him blushed harder, and he muttered an apology. But he stayed; he talked to me; and somehow stayed for dinner.

*

Harry James Potter didn’t stop appearing. Not even after Pansy came back. He kept arriving each and every morning and stayed until dinner. It became tiring because I had to put up a wall on my brain every single day, but Potter is persistent, and so did I. Checking on me become a routine for Potter and Pansy. Potter was in charge for me not dying, and Pansy was in charge for me being clean. I hated those arrangement, so then one day, I gathered my strength to get up from the bed. I started taking charge in my own life. Pansy was ecstatic when I was the one who opened the door for her. She stopped cleaning me, instead she started to make tea every morning and talked to me. I kept my mouth shut. Potter didn’t stop, in fact he kept appearing to cook  the food for us to eat. The first time he did that, I was so surprised I let my wall down. You were the one who cooked?

“Who else is here, Draco? Of course, I cook.” He grinned at me. They’re delicious. I admit after not knowing what to response for a full minute. His grin became wider. “Thank you!” I put my wall back up. That night the both of us had dinner on the dining table.

That was my new routine. Pansy made tea. Pansy talked. Potter made food. We ate. Potter went home after I went to bed.

*

Five months after Mother’s death, I found myself sitting on my bed and Potter sat beside the bed. It was late, but for some unknown reason I ask the Golden Boy himself to accompany me. It was damn awkward as I didn’t know what to think and I hadn’t put down my Occlumency. He stayed silent.

Why are you here, Potter? Why do you keep reappearing? I ask.

“Just because.” He shrugged nonchalantly, like it was the most common thing people would do in their free time. Well, it might be common for friends, but we were arch enemies once.

It’s not good enough reason, Potter. I’m afraid I need to ask you to not come back.

“Why?”

Because I’m tired. I don’t want to keep putting up a magic wall on my mind whenever you come around.

“Then stop, Draco.” He says immediately. “Stop putting up a damn wall and let me in.” His voice had a tinge of hope.

I told you, it’s rude, Potter. Don’t you have any manner at all?

“Then start talking. Talk to me, Draco.” He said desperately. “It has been five months. You have got to start talking someday, might as well start now.”

I can’t.

“Why?” He snapped. I didn’t answer for the longest time, and he wait for a response.

Because I’m afraid once I open my mouth, I will start sobbing uncontrollably. I just have no more strength to let those emotions escape, Potter. I’m afraid once I let them out, I will reduce to nothing but pieces that can’t be rebuild. I’m already broken, but at least I’m collected.

This time he looked straight into my eyes. “I won’t let you fall and crumbled into dust, Draco. Let them out, I know you’re stronger than this. I’ll be here. I won’t go anywhere.” He promised. He promised with all his being, I can see the raw honesty in his green eyes. They’re beautiful –fierce and full of passion, and green, oh so green.

You know I’m a coward.

“You could be on probation with Pansy, rebuilding Hogwarts, taking your N.E.W.T the next year, you know you could, but you chose three years in Azkaban. That wasn’t cowardice. I knew you pulled yourself out of whatever state you were after Azkaban just so that your mother could lean on you when she wasn’t able to stand by herself. You’re not a coward, Draco. Don’t be one now, not when you’re not alone. I’ll be here.” In that moment my heart stuttered and some warmth seeped into my chest, hugging my ribs. Of course he’ll be here; he’s the hero of Wizarding World. He saved people that were his job. But for one second, I wanted to let myself believe that he would be here because he cared. He cared for Draco Malfoy, the ex Death Eater. Oh how I had wanted to just let myself be engulfed in the sea of green, to just let myself be saved by Potter because he is Harry Potter. Harry Potter who kept appearing in front of my door for five months. Harry Potter who cooked for me. Harry Potter who called me Draco just because. Harry Potter who cared of my well being that he asked me to let go.

So, I stopped thinking and surrendered myself. In that moment, I surrendered everything just to feel the chance to live again. Please take me as I surrendered my all to you, Harry Potter. Right here, right now, I trusted my entire well being into your arms.

“Save me, Harry.” That was the first sentence I had said for five months, and the only thing I said before I completely broke down. Harry kept his words. He stayed and didn’t let me fall. He spent the night hugging my broken form until I passed out from exhaustion. Harry was still there in the morning.

*

After that, I fell. Oh, I fell so deep I couldn’t even see the end of that hole. On Mother’s death first anniversary, I had already gathered my wits, but I was never in charge of my being since I surrendered to the green eyed boy. I was in control of my life for 19 months. I rebuilt my life. I got my job back. I was happy and warmth, oh I was in joy. I fell for him, definitely, absolutely, irrevocably, and irreversibly. Oh but I forgot what Father always say, happiness is ephemeral.

We celebrated our first anniversary as a couple in the Manor. Harry was in the back cooking what I assumed should be a divine dish for two. Suddenly an owl swooped down and dropped a letter in front of me before going back outside unto the storm. The letter’s envelop was not in a good condition, so I pulled the letter out before it also became wet and unreadable. I almost called out for Harry because the letter was obviously from Weasley, but the content caught my eyes, and it wasn’t like I was sniffing around, I just accidentally read it. That was the worse mistake I had made since Azkaban.

Oi mate! I owe you 50 galleons; I never thought you could pull it off up to a year anniversary, you persistent git! I can’t even imagine dealing with that pretentious blond git for two days. Let’s meet up two days from now, yeah? I’ll be back in London tomorrow night. –Ron.

A bet?

“Draco, could you choose the wine tonight?” Harry’s voice had sounded so distant. I felt so distant from my own body. “Draco?” I looked up because his voice had sounded much closer, but all I could see was blurry figure and lights. “Draco, what happened? What’s wrong?” his voice was panic, but I couldn’t answer him. “Draco, look at me, what’s wrong, talk to me?” I could feel his breath mixed with mine. His palms trapped my face and brushed the tears off my cheeks. It hurts again. After 19 months, it hurts all over again, but this time I could find my voice. It was heavily tinged with hurt. I hated this. I hated being vulnerable.

“I surrendered everything to feel the chance to live again, I reached to you. A thousand dreams I still believe. I surrender my all to you, Harry. I thought you said you’ll catch me when I fall, stupid me to believe you.”

“What are you talking about, Draco?” he seemed genuinely confuse. I detangled myself from him, and put the letter on his coffee table.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, it was for you, I have no intention on reading it, but the envelope was wet, so I pulled out the content. He wrote it on a card, I accidentally read it. I am so sorry.” With that, I Apparate myself to the Manor, and pack all my belongings. I’m done with fate hating my guts.

“Harry James Potter, you are a downright sanctimonious git, you know that?”

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #sad (or not) #angst (not really) #sorry if it's too long #not even with a happy ending #i'm annoying #pls ignore my tags #ginafics

[snuggiepug]

Breaking and Entering Chapter 3

           Gladion groaned and tried to ignore the pain in his stomach. Team skull still had no work for him and he had used all of the money Moon had given him to patch the many holes in his wall and ceiling. Null whined in hunger behind him. Gladion shot him a glare. "You're going to talk to me when yesterday you were all over Moon and ate like a king?" Null looked away sheepishly. Nearing his room he stopped when the most heavenly smell wafted towards him. He sighed and moved on. "Seems like the neighbors are making something fantastic this morning. Wonder if I acted homeless if they would feed me." As he slid the plywood to the side it began to dawn on him that the smell was even stronger in his room. Standing in the kitchen Moon was humming a familiar melody as she sprinkled something into a frying pan. She looked up and grinned while her newly evolved dartrix preened itself on the table.

           "Well hey there handsome! I could use a hand with this if you're not too busy doing nothing." He blinked before stumbling forward driven by hunger.... and Null had head butted him too. Before he knew it he was face to face with the dark haired trainer. It seemed as though time had stopped. Being this close he could see the bright blue flecks reflected in her eyes framed by thick black eyelashes, the rosy color of her cheeks, and the warmth present in her smile. He cursed himself when he felt heat rise to his face.

           She chuckled and turned him around by grabbing his waist. "I bought some fruit and berries to make a fruit salad. While I finish up the pancakes you can chop and mix it all up." As Gladion started his assigned job he stole a glance at her. Focused on her work she deftly flipped each pancake and began stacking sizable portions on each plate. Finally Gladion spoke up.

           "Why are you here?" She shot him a look of disbelief. "Really Gladion, you could have said anything and you choose to question the person making you a free meal." He rolled his eyes and threw a discarded rind into a nearby trash can.

           "I meant why would you want to be here." She hummed as she turned off the stove top burner. "I was in the area," she chirped. He watched as she dragged the plywood door open and returned to grab the two plates.

           "Did some snooping around and found that this motel has a sweet picnic area around back. You can see the ocean for miles. When you're done you can find me there." She spun away with a wink and carried the food out the door. Null peeked around the corner to check up on his befuddled trainer.

           "I have no idea what I'm doing anymore," he confessed to his friend. Null seemed to shrug before following after Moon. Gladion shook his head and finished cutting up the last fruit. Grabbing the bowl he followed after his rival and Null. Popping a few berries in his mouth he began to feel the soft moist breeze of the ocean blow through his hair. Rounding the corner he saw Moon leaning over the railing contently watching the sunrise while Lance wove through the picnic tables chasing after Null. She let out a sigh and laid her head on top of her arms. Silently he stood next to her and continued to munch on fruit before offering her the bowl. Taking a handful of fruit slices she smiled.

           "My brother would scold me over something like this." She motioned towards the bowl. "He'd say 'you know they make silverware for a reason'." Gladion chewed thoughtfully.

           "Silverware's a pain in the ass. We have hands for a reason." Moon flashed him a grin and laughed, triggering a strange irregular heartbeat from deep within his chest. Looking out at the water she murmured "You have a pretty awesome setup here next to the sea. Sunshine, the beach, and could go anywhere anytime you pleased." He frowned. She was oblivious to the hardships he and Null endured just to survive, of the overwhelming loneliness that consumed his days... But he wouldn't dare tell her any of that.

           "I guess that's one way to look at it. I'd rather have a more permanent existence though." He popped a few more berries into his mouth. "You see at this motel there's this nasty problem with the doors. Trainers burst right through them. Like human cannonballs." She punched his shoulder in mock annoyance inciting a smirk from him.

           "Hey I already apologized for that jerk!" She turned away from the railing and walked over to a picnic table where the two plates sat. He followed after, silently studying the girl's movements. "Just curious, when you are on your island trials where do you stay?" Moon tapped a finger on her chin.

           "Well sometimes trial captains or kahunas provide beds or I can rent a room through the Pokémon Center, but most of the time I sleep outside under the stars." Gladion snorted. "What if it rains?" She shrugged.

           "Then I get wet. But most people would figure out how to make a makeshift shelter in that circumstance." He narrowed his eyes at her.

           "You know you're a smart ass. Guzma hates those." Moon grinned. "Tragically, I don't really care what Guzma thinks of me."

           "Well you- Oomph!" Null slammed his two front legs hard on Gladion's lap and looked up expectantly. "Oh right, you're hungry too," he sighed. Null nodded enthusiastically and eyed Gladion's plate. Moon chuckled and reached for a Tupperware full of some unknown food.

           "Don't worry Null I didn't forget about you! Here's some homemade malasada. I had to practically beat Hau away from this so enjoy!" Null squealed in glee and trotted over to his food. Gladion couldn't help but smile seeing Null so happy. "I brought some honey that my brother's cutiefly made. It's really good on pancakes... That's why I made pancakes in the first place." Gladion smiled and replied,

           "I'm not complaining." Remembering his hunger he ate with gusto but at the same time savored each bite, knowing that this could be his only meal for days. They ate together, told stories, and shared a few laughs. Gladion couldn't help but smile when Moon told him a story about Sun getting his head stuck in a fence.

           "He was trying to pet someone's snubbul, and then got trapped! He was so embarrassed that he tried to tell me that he just liked standing like that. Mom had to call the fire department to pry him out. He wouldn't talk about it for days." When they finished eating Moon seemed grow serious. She sighed and pulled out her Z-Crystal collection.

           "I guess I have to get back to my island trials. Hanging out with you makes me forget about trial captains and kahunas, in a good way. It's nice to relax and forget about all the craziness around us." Gladion could agree with that. After his betrayal to Aether and the chaos of Team Skull, he had to admit it wasn't terrible to forget for a few hours how discordant his life really was. "I left the rest of the money on your table." She stood and smiled. "I'll see you soon!" With that she waved goodbye. He was surprised to feel his heart sink in disappointment. Null brushed against his leg affectionately. He glanced at his partner and nearly choked seeing the smug expression on his face.

           "Don't talk to me traitor ," he growled crossing his arms. Null answered with a snicker before leaning against Gladion's side. Gladion huffed and smoothed the fur on his neck. "Crap, I just can't stay mad at you." Null released a deep purr that Gladion could feel through his entire body. "C'mon buddy. We've got to get stronger." Null seemed understand and loped towards the nearest section of tall grass excitedly.

 ***

           He was very pleased with Null's advancements in battle. Spending an entire day training Gladion was dismayed to find himself once again famished. Accepting that Moon was not going to be whipping up some heavenly concoction in his kitchen, he pushed his way inside his drabby room. Once inside he checked the table remembering that Moon had left some pokédollars behind. Sure enough there was a little bag of pokédollars, way more than was needed to repair the door. Placing the money in his bag he was comforted knowing at least tonight he could call in a take-out order. Null whimpered and motioned for his bowl. Gladion ran one hand through his hair.

           "Alright big guy, I'll check the fridge. If that doesn't work out we'll stop by a malasada shop." Stepping into kitchen he opened the fridge with a scowl. Shock caused him to stumble backwards. Inside every shelve was stocked with food. Each Tupperware was labeled in Moon's handwriting. There was even a whole shelf devoted to Null and his other Pokémon. Checking the pantry he discovered that she had crammed every kind of boxed food that she could. Attached to one box was a note that simply stated: "Madion". Opening it he read,

             Hey turd! I made all this last night and it should keep for awhile. But when you run out you should have plenty to eat in this cupboard too, so hope you know how to cook. Don't ask me why I did it, just eat. No one should have to be without food. See you soon!

           Your friend, Moon

 P.S. Next time we meet get ready for an all out battle... and possibly malasadas...

             Clutching the note to his chest he struggled to keep calm. He had no idea how to react. Instead he silently opened a Tupperware for he and Null. Null waited excitedly by his bowl as Gladion lowered his food and took a seat at the table. Popping a spoonful of some kind of pasta in his mouth, he was overcome by the strange urge to laugh.  Null watched his trainer start to tremble before releasing a quiet snicker. Null cocked his head as Gladion smirked.

           "That girl... is something else. I really can't describe her in words." Eating a few more mouthfuls he shook his head. "She's strong, annoying, cheerful, infuriating, and incredibly naive... but I think if things had just been a little different, we maybe, possibly, could've been friends." Null was too absorbed in his own dinner to listen to his ramblings. 'And she's a damn good cook' he admitted to himself.

           He then made up his mind. He was going to get stronger so that when he encountered Moon again, they would be equals.

#gladion #gladion x moon #moon x gladion #mahinashipping #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon shipping #pokemon fanfiction #chapter 3 B&E #chapter 3 of B&E

[cryptixcreations]

Familiarity

Fandom: The Shadow (pulps)

Summary: After Zemba, Monsieur Robeq has some important observations to share with The Shadow.

Rating: Gen

Wordcount: ~3800

After reading #91: Zemba I was very concerned about Harry’s mental state and needed to write something. It took awhile but here is that something.

Also briefly references #71: The Plot Master

Read on Ao3

Hardly had Harry and Cliff left their cab in front of the Hotel Princesse before a second cab screeched to the curb behind them. From it alighted the tall, tuxedo-clad figure that they had, until that very hour, identified as Herbert Balliol and – more importantly – as The Shadow.

“Gentlemen!” Etienne Robeq called after them. He no longer pretended at Balliol’s English accent.

The agents paused and half-turned. Neither matched his smile.

Unperturbed, Robeq said, “I am glad I caught you. You are welcome to the suite for another day, it is paid through. That is the least I can do to make up for my subterfuge. I only ask that you pass a final message to your master, if you can, that Etienne Robeq desires a word with him before you leave Paris.”

“That can be arranged,” spoke a voice from behind Robeq. He whirled. Both he and the agents stared at the figure that stepped into the light.

Somehow, in the brief period between leaving the Palais and now, The Shadow had shed all signs of Zemba. His calm face now corresponded to no specific identity, but there was no mistaking the keen glitter of his eyes or the hawkishness of his profile.

He gestured with a left hand from which a fire opal glowed like a live ember. Robeq followed the silent instruction. He fell into step beside The Shadow. Tall and slender, impeccably tuxedoed, the two of them bore a superficial similarity; but there was a catlike smoothness to the way The Shadow moved that even the celebrated Robeq couldn’t match.

The lights of the Princesse were well behind them before The Shadow broke the silence. “Does this matter concern Gaspard Zemba?” He spoke in fluent French, and Robeq responded in kind.

“No. It concerns one of your men.”

The Shadow’s sharp gaze pierced him. His voice carried a steely edge to match. Robeq nearly flinched.

“How so?”

“They’re in no danger,” Robeq quickly assured. “I simply want to discuss Harry Vincent.”

The unsettling gaze left him. “I already know everything concerning Harry Vincent.”

“Then you are aware the boy is in love with you?”

If Robeq had expected a reaction, he was due for disappointment. The Shadow did not miss a beat when he replied, “He thinks he is in love with me.”

“What is the difference?”

“Love requires familiarity. I will protect my agents to the fullness of my power, and do what is needed to ensure their absolute trust in me, but I am not familiar with them. He knows little more about me than you do, now.”

Robeq nodded thoughtfully. “In that case, I misspoke. My apologies. The boy wants to be in love with you.” The Shadow did not reply, so Robeq continued. “It is clearer to me, now, why he looked at me the way he did – when he thought I was you. I admit I began to feel jealous. You should have seen–”

“He is fascinated by an idea,” The Shadow interrupted. “It will pass in time.”

“Given enough time, all things do,” Robeq acknowledged. “Even love cannot follow into the grave.”

A streetlight up ahead flickered.

“Emotional entanglements are messy and unstable. I would not willingly jeopardize my best agent for anything so puerile.”

Robeq laughed. Again The Shadow’s eyes bored into him, intense and inscrutable. Again the streetlight flickered.

“Something funny?”

“Yes. You. An interesting contrast – you are willing to risk his life, but not his heart, when he would gladly trust you with both and more. But you know that – you are, as you said, familiar with everything concerning Harry Vincent. Perhaps it is not for his sake that you worry?”

The Shadow stopped walking. The faulty streetlight gave out. Sudden gloom nearly swallowed him whole, all but an indistinct silhouette and eyes that burned like twin stars through the darkness.

“There is much you do not understand about the situation.”

It took every ounce of Robeq’s willpower not to shudder. “I am sure there is. I would not seek to interfere in such a private matter – I would not even mention it, you understand, except that I think I may have given the poor boy a little false hope by my deception.”

“And this is your attempt to minimize the harm?” The Shadow asked coolly.

Robeq shrugged. “I suppose it is.” He glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “I must get back to the Palais. I left Monsieur le Prefet rather suddenly in order to catch you. One last thing only. You don’t ask for my advice–”

“I don’t.”

“–But I will give it anyway,” Robeq persisted. “I cannot tell you how to feel, but Vincent, he is a good man, and he is devoted to you. Speak to him. He deserves that much. If nothing else, grant his hopes the mercy of a quick death. Ah, but it is a tragedy, to say such things in a city of such romance…”

“Are you finished?”

“I am. Farewell, Monsieur L'Ombre. Until our paths might cross again.”

“Goodbye, Monsieur Robeq.”

Bright eyes watched Robeq depart. The streetlight flickered back to life. Even without the enshrouding darkness, The Shadow’s expression was unreadable.

In a fifth-floor suite of the Hotel Princesse, Cliff and Harry set about packing their trunks. Whether they were staying only one night more or two, they mutually agreed they would need but little, and it was always advisable to be ready to move out on short notice.

While they gathered their things, Cliff cast glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye. Finally, after an uncomfortable minute, he ventured to break the silence. “Robeq must’ve took a hell of a run-out to get here right on our heels.”

“Must have,” Harry responded. Cliff was surprised by the hollowness in his voice.

He tried again. “Do you think something happened after we left the palace?”

“Maybe.”

Cliff didn’t understand it. Normally, after a mission like this, Harry would be excited, downright voluble as he theorized on what they missed and how The Shadow must have pulled it off. This case especially was still rife with mystery. Harry should have been chattering ceaselessly. It was occasionally annoying, but Cliff would take that any day over this dead air.

One more try. Cliff forced a chuckle. “Say, that was a hell of a change the chief pulled off on the way here, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Cliff winced. Down to one mechanical syllable – and over one of The Shadow’s skills, a subject Harry was usually impossible to shut up about. Cliff let the silence simmer for a time while he mulled it over.

Softly, he said, “It wasn’t your fault, you know.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Falling for Robeq’s ruse, I mean, and following him instead of the chief. I know you noticed inconsistencies, but that doesn’t make you responsible for not figuring it out. If the chief had wanted to end it he could’ve done it at any time. We’re both in the clear.”

A beat followed after he finished, then, “I know, Cliff.” That was all. Cliff took the hint. They finished packing in silence.

Buying into Robeq’s ruse was only a minor factor in Harry’s melancholy. That they may have inadvertently upset The Shadow’s plans certainly bothered him, but that was a concern whenever he did anything that wasn’t strictly according to orders. That alone wasn’t enough to drive him so deeply into his own thoughts.

What was eating him up inside was just how badly he’d wanted the lie to be real. Riding in a cab with The Shadow, working alongside him, being able to watch him in action, even just being complimented over an independent plan – it had all felt so special.

Now, knowing that none of it was The Shadow at all, Harry had realized just how pathetically little it took to make him happy – and worse, that the real Shadow would never even go that far.

He should have known better.

He had the awful feeling that he was going to break down crying sometime that night, when the weight of his own miserable foolishness finally crashed down on him. For the moment, he just felt numb.

The phone rang. Seeing that Harry was undressing for bed – and hardly even seemed to register the ringing – Cliff answered it. He went stock-still the moment he heard the caller’s voice. Harry only noticed when Cliff spoke. “Instructions received.” A moment later, the phone was being handed to Harry.

It didn’t matter how many times he heard The Shadow’s whisper, the first sound of that grave hiss still ignited his nerves. Harry listened tensely. He repeated an address, then, “Instructions received.” The line clicked. Harry put the handset down slowly.

Cliff watched him, equal parts curious and concerned. “I’m guessing you didn’t get your time to yourself. I’m free to leave for home tomorrow or the day after.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m–” He paused, found his voice, and started again. “I’m to take a cab to that address and then walk from there toward the river. That’s all I know.”

“I’ll wait up.”

“No, you don’t–”

“Harry.”

Harry sighed as he finished re-dressing. He managed to offer Cliff a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Cliff.”

Cliff smiled back. “Hey – maybe it’s something good. Backup for routing one last caveau.” He made a broad gesture as if to indicate the myriad other examples that were escaping him.

“Maybe.” Harry didn’t sound hopeful.

Harry found the place he had been directed to with little trouble. It was simply a riverside pier. Naturally, at that time of night, it was poorly populated. At first glance it looked wholly deserted. The single humanlike figure, tall and thin and perfectly immobile before the barrier, seemed to be a trick of the dim lighting reflecting off the river. Harry knew better.

He had no doubt that The Shadow heard his approach. His footsteps on the wooden pier seemed to pound in his own ears. Still the figure ahead showed not even a waver. Harry felt himself tensing up more with every step. When he was within two yards, he had to stop. He didn’t dare speak.

The perfect stillness broke into easy motion, as though the scene were a movie that had simply been paused on a single frame. The Shadow spread his arms. One hand rested on the railing. The other, the left hand, beckoned. The flash of the girasol soothed Harry’s nerves enough to break his paralysis. He closed the distance until he stood at his master’s left hand.

The Shadow turned his bright eyes on Harry. “Report.”

Harry recalled the same order being given earlier that night, and again felt the sting of his own stupidity. This time he understood. With his eyes downcast, Harry began his report, starting from the time he and Cliff arrived in Paris.

He spoke automatically, only pausing to collect his thoughts, or when his voice wavered as he spoke of ‘Balliol’. He made no excuses. As much as Cliff had tried to reassure him, Harry couldn’t help but to shoulder the blame for their following Robeq. He never said the words, but the implication was throughout: He should have known better.

Once Harry’s report reached the Palais de Vraillard, he fell silent. He waited for… what? Admonishment? No, The Shadow didn’t reprimand, any more than he praised. His disappointment had to be inferred as much as his satisfaction. Harry had gotten very good at inferring from his master’s silences.

“Have you eaten?”

Whatever Harry had been waiting for, that wasn’t it. He blinked. “What?”

The Shadow calmly repeated his question.

The second time, it clicked. Even having just told of Cliff winning the dinner coin-toss and their heading for the Palais as soon as he returned, Harry had already forgotten that he hadn’t had dinner. Food was the furthest thing from his mind. He shook his head.

The lithe figure beside him moved away from the railing. “Come.”

Harry could only follow.

The cab ride that followed was a surreal experience.

For the second time in as many hours, Harry Vincent was riding in a taxi beside The Shadow. Except it wasn’t the second time, it was the first, and this time the experience wasn’t shared with Cliff.

The steady, profiled features were there, but they were distinctly hawk-like now, and the eyes glittered even in the gloom. (Harry couldn’t look at those features without wondering how he had ever mistaken Robeq for The Shadow. The pretended Balliol couldn’t hold a candle to his true master.)

Long, slender hands remained folded atop one knee, the left hand uppermost. The girasol caught the slightest passing light and threw it back as sparks of blue and red and purple. Harry had to keep looking at it. For all its strange properties, that magnificent fire opal seemed the only thing that was beyond a shadow of a doubt real. Only The Shadow wore that token. No imposter could hope to even come close to matching it. Harry couldn’t trust his own senses, but he could trust in the ever-shifting colors of that stone.

Still, he kept expecting to see Cliff at the other window, or to catch a glimpse of blue-tinted spectacles, or to simply wake up. The confidence that he had felt before, riding into danger beside the false Shadow, was nowhere to be found. Bewilderment made for a poor substitute.

His first realization that the cab had stopped was when firm hands gripped his upper arms and drew him to his feet. The grip remained on one arm, and Harry welcomed its steadying influence, both physically and in its familiarity. He let himself be led into a warmly-lit building, a small restaurant, and to a table set into a curtained-off niche. With the heavy curtains drawn, he was once again alone in a small space with–

–with The Shadow. The real Shadow. The Shadow, seated across from him, a slight smile fixed on his thin lips. With his left hand he slid a menu across the table.

“You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.”

The hand remained on the tabletop, the girasol ever in view, as if he knew that Harry was grounding himself with it. (Of course he knew. The Shadow always knew.) Harry opened the menu without really seeing it.

Harry couldn’t recall later what he ordered. He vaguely recalled savory spices and something heavy and filling. The Shadow, however, ordered coffee and a dessert, and that part Harry remembered vividly. A small, round panna cotta in a bright red sauce, decorated with sugared berries and shavings of dark chocolate. It occurred to Harry that he had never seen The Shadow eat. Even in that action his neatness and precision put normal people to shame. Harry’s self-consciousness was not helped by the distinct feeling that The Shadow was watching him in turn, even though his gaze was always diverted when Harry darted glances at him.

(Actually, Harry had seen The Shadow eat, but this was the first time he did so knowing it was The Shadow. The connection between his occasional friend Lamont Cranston and his employer had escaped him, for the moment.)

Afterward, sipping at a coffee that The Shadow ordered for him, Harry had to admit he did feel better. The situation was still unprecedented, but his mind was no longer whirling, and he didn’t have to look at the girasol quite as often to reaffirm his handle on reality.

“Monsieur Robeq went out of his way to speak with me tonight.” The Shadow’s tone was calm, but Harry still stiffened at the first syllable. “What is your opinion of Robeq?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Monsieur Robeq seems to be a competent detective.”

“I asked your opinion of Robeq, not your assessment of his skills.” A note of amusement softened any bite the comment might have had.

Harry took a sip while he tried to find the right words to convey his feelings towards the imposter.

“I dislike him.”

His answer was met with a whispered laugh that raised gooseflesh on his arms. “Indeed. And before the revelation in the palace?”

Harry hesitated. He stared at the tabletop. “I thought he was you.”

“Comparatively, then.”

The wood grain didn’t line up perfectly where the pieces had been attached. Harry’s eyes followed lines that abruptly stopped and picked up in just slightly the wrong place. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, tried again and again failed. What was he supposed to say?

The familiar glimmer of the girasol flashed at the edge of his vision, breaking in on his reverie. The Shadow’s left hand was urging his mug toward the tabletop. Harry realized his hands were trembling. He set the mug down.

“That was an unfair question,” The Shadow said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “I apologize. Monsieur Robeq worried his impersonation may have done you harm. Clearly his concerns were not unfounded.” He considered for a moment. “You preferred Robeq’s Balliol–” Harry opened his mouth to protest. “–in certain ways, for certain actions. Enough that it was crushing to discover the actions were not mine.”

Harry closed his mouth.

“That distresses you. You’re torn between your loyalty to who I am and your desire for me to be otherwise. To be more as Robeq portrayed me.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to nod. Confirmation seemed unnecessary, anyway. The Shadow knew.

Another contemplative silence.

“Robeq is of the opinion that you are in love with me.”

Harry’s hands curled into white-knuckled fists; he felt the blood drain out of his face and heard his heartbeat pound in his ears. He stared across the table with wide, panic-stricken eyes. The Shadow wasn’t looking at him. He was turned to the side; those bright eyes were fixed on the heavy curtain defending their privacy. He continued as though he hadn’t noticed Harry’s reaction.

“Should he be right, it is only natural you should have felt encouraged by indications of a more open and demonstrative attitude. You have worked closely with me in the past – even attended me while injured – but there have always been certain limitations to our interactions. Nevertheless, it is not unthinkable that I might relax those limitations, particularly in this new setting. Finding that I had not would, naturally, be disappointing. Doubly so if Robeq’s conclusion is correct.”

Harry slowly unclenched as he listened to The Shadow’s measured voice. Relief at the lack of reproach or judgment was quickly supplanted by confusion, and then realization. The Shadow was very deliberately not noticing Harry’s responses, very deliberately remaining vague, very deliberately emphasizing the if. He was giving Harry a chance to deny it. In the midst of his reassurances, he had left Harry an opening to shoot down Robeq’s 'opinion’ and end the conversation there.

Harry’s mouth was dry. He took a sip of coffee.

The Shadow continued. “If he is correct, I must point out that a closer relationship would be highly inadvisable. The limitations I place on my dealings are not flexible. You had a demonstration of that tonight; you have had clearer demonstrations in the past. My relationships are limited by necessity. The more you – or anyone – might know about me, the more danger there is, for myself and for others. Lives would be jeopardized. It is not an environment conducive to… familiarity.”

At length The Shadow fell silent. His left hand flexed long fingers against the tabletop. He still didn’t look at Harry. The way out was still on the table, if Harry wanted it.

A closer relationship would be inadvisable, dangerous, limited, difficult… but not out of the question.

“May I speak frankly?” Harry surprised himself with his steadiness.

“Of course.”

Harry took a deep breath. His nerve would break if he looked up, he knew it would, so instead he spoke toward his coffee mug. “I swore my life to you. I’ve never regretted it. Robeq is right. I am in love with you. I consider myself–” He blushed and soldiered on. “I consider myself yours, body and soul. What that entails I’ve left to you. If– if we can never have anything more than we do now, I can accept that. As long as you’re a part of my life, I’ll be happy.” He licked his dry lips. “But I did hope– I have hoped. With Robeq, that hope felt… a little more within reach.”

Moments stretched agonizingly long between them. Harry still didn’t dare look up. His heart hammered.

Finally, The Shadow spoke, low and softer than Harry had ever heard. “It’s impossible for me to give you anything like a normal relationship. You know that.”

Harry had tried to keep his hopes from rising too high, but still they had a long way to plummet, and they carried his heart down on the way. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I understand.”

“Do you?”

Too much significance in those two little words. Harry looked up, finally, to find The Shadow watching him. His eyes flashed as they met Harry’s.

Oh.

A hesitant smile began to brighten Harry’s face.

“I understand,” he repeated. This time, he did.

A nod. “Think this over. Not just now, tonight, but in the days to come. I can’t make you any promises for the future. I can’t promise much more than I give you now. All that I can promise is that this will not be easy. As much as…”

The thought hung unfinished. A soft sigh hissed from The Shadow’s lips. He placed his hand over Harry’s, lacing their fingers together. The girasol glinted from between Harry’s fingers. He stared at it in wonder. The Shadow considered their hands as well before he spoke again.

“I allotted five days to catching Zemba. That leaves tomorrow free. I should like to spend it with you.”

Harry broke into a laugh that was half joy and half relief. Grinning, not trusting his voice, he nodded eagerly.

The whispered chuckle that responded was all pleasure.

Harry was light-headed but steady as they left the restaurant; nevertheless, The Shadow’s hand lingered on his back, conducting him as far as the open door of a cab.

“Get some sleep,” The Shadow ordered. “I will meet you in the lobby of the Princesse in the morning. Remember, think seriously on what I have said.”

He watched as the cab pulled away, smiled slightly as he saw Harry looking back. When intervening traffic broke the line of vision, he took the opportunity to slip into darkness. The smile faded. For once, his eyes betrayed uncertainty. Alley walls echoed back an apprehensive laugh.

He’d just agreed to change everything with the most important person in his life. He couldn’t pretend that his own selfish desires had nothing to do with it.

All he could hope was that he wasn’t about to ruin it all.

#the shadow #harry vincent #the shadow/harry vincent #fanfic #food mention #light angst #also shads has epk powers jus roll with it