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emsemotional · 3 years

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out of line

Okay so this is a little baby one shot based on my mental health advocate!mickey headcanon that I posted a little while back. I used to write a lot for various fandoms back in high school, but it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve shared anything I’ve written with anyone other than @lewslew, so please be nice- I definitely have some room to grow with characterization and timing.

This is taking place post-finale, so I’ve taken some liberties regarding what everyone ends up doing after the series. In my mind, Mickey and Ian buy the Gallagher house themselves, because they’re Southside boys at heart and they need a backyard for their dog (duh). But they’re waiting on their Westside lease to end, so Lip, Tami and Liam are staying in the house while Lip and Debbie fix it up and renovate a little (you can find my whole hc on what everyone’s up to post-series here). I was talking to @iansfreckles a while back about a possible Gallagher/Tamietti family dinner- I’m so interested in how this would go and how the families’ dynamics would interact. SO, this takes place at said Gallagher/Tamietti family cookout, right as Lip and Tami are moving out of the house, and Ian and Mickey are moving in. Cami and Brad’s kids are with Aunt Oopie, I dunno I didn’t want to write them haha.

Content warning: ignorant/rude comments about individuals with mental illnesses and language akin to that of the show

Tami had almost said no when Cory asked to bring her new boyfriend to the Gallagher house. Between the Gallagher and Tamietti families, there were going to be plenty of big personalities under one roof, as is. But Cory had actually asked this time, and she had just babysat Fred during a last minute highlight appointment. Tami had reluctantly agreed and her sister had seemed so happy that she almost forgot her hesitation.

Looking back, Tami’s decision was questionable. Lip had been able to prepare his family for the rest of the Tamietti’s, explaining the family dynamics and topics to avoid. Chad was a wildcard.

He had burst through the front door laughing loudly beside Brad and Cami, who didn’t seem to think the joke was as funny as Chad did. Cory and Bob followed them in, annoyance clear on Bob’s face. Tami and Lip moved to the door to greet their visitors, Tami depositing Fred in Carl’s lap, where he was sitting on the couch. Carl immediately grabbed the toddler under his arms, grinning at him and lifting him up above his head, making propellor noises on his way down.

This, this is what Tami had wanted her family to see. The Tamiettis had made it clear that while they tolerated Lip, they thought Tami could do better. They thought he was ill equipped to help raise a family, constantly doubting his ability to provide, and his dedication to his family. Tami had tried to explain Lip’s role in his own family- the patriarch of the Gallagher home, a man who had been taking care of people for his entire life. Perhaps the only way for the other Tamiettis to see the value in the Gallagher side of Fred’s family, was to observe it first hand.

Lip made it to the Tamiettis first, shaking Bob’s hand and taking the handful of bags and jackets that were thrust into his arms.

“No show Brad!” Tami cheered, hugging her sisters, “You made it!”

Brad rolled his eyes, lightly clapping Tami on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

Cory turned towards her sister, a wide smile on her face, “Tam, this is Chad, the guy I was telling you about?”

Tami turned to shake his hand, finally giving him a good look. Truth be told, he looked like every other guy Cory had seriously dated- some tall, brunette, conventionally attractive, straight laced kind of guy. He didn’t seem any different from the other business majors, fraternity boys and bar bouncers that Cory had intruded her to.

“Tami right? So great to meet you, thanks for inviting me!”

“Of course, nice to meet you too! Come on in, you guys!”

The Tamiettis settled into the living room, Cami choosing the seat next to Carl, cooing down to Fred, “There’s my favorite nephew! How are you sweet boy?”

She ran a gentle hand across Fred’s head before introducing herself to Carl, “I’m Cami, Tami’s sister.” Carl swallowed a smirk at the rhyming names, nodding, “Carl, Lip’s brother.”

“Ah, the one buying the house?”

“Nah, that’s Ian and Mickey, they’re upstairs somewhere. I’m the cop,” Carl stated proudly.

“Fuck the police!” Mickey’s voice called into the living room in response, as a flash of red and black hair came tumbling down the stairs. All the Tamiettis turned to watch Mickey jog through the living room with Franny on his shoulders, Ian chasing after them.

“Get him Uncle Mickey!” Franny squealed, “He’s gonna catch us!”

“I’m a little busy running, kid. Hit ‘em or somethin’,” Mickey grunted, scrambling to hand his niece a rubber ball previously balanced on the back of the couch.

Franny wound up her arm, tossing the ball at Ian’s head with all her six year old might, “Take that, Uncle Ian! You’re dead!”

Ian groaned dramatically, clutching his face and sliding onto the ground. He let out a theatrical sign and closed his eyes, finally defeated.

Franny cheered as Mickey lifted her off his shoulders, “We did it! We killed him!” Franny dropped down to the ground to check that Ian had accepted his defeat, poking him in the back with the toe of her shoe.

Mickey gave her a crinkly grin, the kind he reserved for Franny and Ian alone- unguarded and childlike. “Sure did! Pretty badass if you ask me.”

Ian got to his feet, tickling Franny’s stomach as he addressed the room, “Hey, sorry we were in the middle of… a game.”

“Liquor store robbery!” Franny cheerfully announced.

Franny began introducing herself to the unfamiliar faces, sharing that she was in the first grade, enjoyed playing with guns, and wanted to be a welder like her mommy when she grew up. As Liam and Debbie descended the stairs, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Tamiettis introduced themselves, Tami marveled at how smoothly things seemed to be going. No one was yelling, or aggressively drunk, or making a thinly veiled classist comment- yet.

The two families quickly settled into a comfortable chatter of introductions and the conversation, surprisingly, continued to flow without a hitch. They soon made their way outside, where Debbie and Bob chatted while manning the grill. The other family members scattered across the yard- Liam sat in a lawn chair typing on a laptop, occasionally asking Lip for grammar advice. Ian, in the middle of telling some wild story from his EMT days, was fully emerged in conversation with the rest of the Tamietti family while Mickey and Carl considered how many crimes Carl could theoretically arrest him for, arguing over how many years Mickey would have to serve.

Everything was great- until Chad decided to open his mouth. They had finished dinner and were crammed into the living room, escaping the Chicago windchill. Chad was sharing one of his own work stories from the construction site he worked on, describing a man who had wandered onto the site and started yelling at Chad and some of his coworkers that week.

“Totally off his rocker,” Chad commented, “He kept telling us about how we were tearing down his house, and that he didn’t give us permission to do this. Just screaming at us, swearing, and he wouldn’t listen when we kept telling him that he trespassing, y’know? Just super crazy- needed a fucking Xanax or something.”

Ian tensed, fiddling with the ring on his left hand while the other Gallaghers exchanged pointed glances. Tami began to interrupt, clearly in attempt to change the subject, but Chad continued.

“The next day,” he explained, “the very next day, he came up to us and was asking to bum a smoke, like he didn’t fucking flip his crazy ass on us yesterday, I swear he must��ve been like bipolar or something, acting like we were old pals. Must’ve gotten carted off or killed or something, haven’t seen him since.”

While the Tamiettis offered a polite chuckle, the Gallaghers remained silent.

Mickey, who had been sitting on the couch next to Ian, looked up from his folded hands. “So you got something against bipolar people? It’s a fucking mental illness man.”

Chad smiled, backtracking, “Hey, nah, calm down. He’s just some crazy homeless dude, who cares?”

“He’s not just some crazy guy, he’s a person with a disease, the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked.

Ian placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder shaking his head. “Mick, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Eyebrows raised comically high, Mickey stood and crossed his arms. “Um, fuck that, it does matter! You’re not a fucking punchline Ian. This is our house, yours and mine, and no one’s going to be talking like that in my house. Obviously no one else is going to say something, and you shouldn’t have to, so I will. I won’t stand for that shit.”

The Tamiettis exchanged horrified looks as the Gallaghers mostly just looked at the floor. Finally Lip spoke up from where he was standing by the TV, “Mental health is uh… a sensitive subject around here. We just… we take it seriously, y’know? First hand experiences and shit.”

Cory opened her mouth to speak but she quickly stopped when she saw Tami swiftly shake her head in her direction, suggesting she stay out of it.

Mickey lightly rubbed his eyebrow, “Yo, douchebag, apologize or get the hell out of my house.”

Chad raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal man, sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes with a huff, turning on his heel to walk towards the back of the house. Wordlessly, Ian followed him out the back door, leaving the living room in a heavy silence.

After a moment, Chad breaks the silence, “Look, I really didn’t mean to start something, I was just telling a story. Should I go out and apologize again, try to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam replied, “You should give Mickey some time to cool off.”

“Yeah,” Lip agreed, “I wouldn’t follow them out. Mickey… he gets protective? Always has been, of Ian. Our mom was bipolar, and so’s Ian. He’s stable, doing great, but he’s, uh, he’s been through a lot. It’s just not good joke material around here.”

Chad nodded, silence overtaking the room again. Franny looked up from her coloring book, clearly bored with the turn the night had taken.

“I’m gonna go play with Uncle Mickey and cheer him up!”

Debbie chuckled from her seat across the room, “Yeah, go bring them some beers Franny.”

“Okay!” Franny chirped, hopping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen. Debbie gave a soft smile as she watched her daughter, on the way to hang out with her favorite uncles.

From his seat on the back stairs, Ian watched Mickey pace through the yard, grumbling about “Fucking Northside yuppies… and their ignorant bigoted asses… what the fuck is wrong with people?” He glanced over at Ian, his expression softening when he noticed the defeated look on Ian’s face. Mickey paused his pacing, coming to sit next to Ian on the steps.

“I’m sorry, I know I prolly embarrassed you. Was I out of line man? I just got so fucking mad,” Mickey quietly mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Ian gently shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You weren’t out of line… I think I’m just disappointed, y’know? That comments like that still get to me? I should be over it by now, every reminder that I’m sick or different shouldn’t still sting like that. And why do I have to be the one that the conflict and the drama revolves around? Why not fucking Carl or Liam or god… anyone else just for once?

Mickey’s expression softened even further. He nudged his knee into Ian’s leg, “What’s that shit you told me when Terry died? Trauma doesn’t always make fucking sense and recovery isn’t… oh shit, what’s the word? Linear! Recovery isn’t linear. Doesn’t make you fucking weak, just means you’ve been through some shit.”

“Yeah. I guess it was easier to tell you that than it is to tell myself.”

Mickey hummed in agreement and the two sat in silence for a moment before the back door creaked open. A tiny red head shoved her way through the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around two bottles, frosty with condensation. Franny sat down on the steps between them, silently handing her uncles their beers. Ian accepted his with a dry chuckle, thanking her. Mickey ruffled her hair, offering a small smile. The voices from inside had faded and the night was relatively calm, other than the occasional siren or dog barking.

Franny, not looking particularly concerned, looked up at them to ask, “Uncle Mickey, why’d you get mad at that guy?”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow and let out a sigh. He looked towards Ian, a silent request for him to take the lead on this conversation. He was confident in his ability to discuss the stupidity of princesses or the importance of wearing gloves during a legitimate liquor store robbery with his niece. He knew how to play, and joke, and how to be there when she woke up from a bad dream, stumbling down the stairs with bedhead and snotty tears. Mickey had grown into his role as an uncle, but he still doubted his ability to talk about the tough stuff with anyone other than Ian.

Ian cleared his throat, taking a second before asking, “Franny, do you know what it means to make a joke at someone else’s expense?”

Franny’s eyebrows scrunched together and she shook her head.

“It’s when you make a joke to kind of make fun of someone else. Like to tease them. Y’know how we make cop jokes around Uncle Carl because he’s a cop?”

She nodded, and Ian continued, “That guy… Aunt Tami’s sister’s boyfriend, was making a joke and it ended up being at my expense. That’s what made Uncle Mickey mad. He didn’t mean to make fun of me, but he kind of did. That’s all. Uncle Mickey was just sticking up for me.”

Franny sat for a moment, deep in thought. “I didn’t know he was talking about you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Not directly. He was telling a story about someone else. But he made a comment about him being bipolar. D’you remember when we talked about that? That I have bipolar disorder?”

Franny nodded, “That’s why you take your special medicine.”

Ian continued, “A lot of people don’t really understand what that means, and sometimes they make jokes about it that aren’t really funny. They’re just kind of… mean. So that’s why we got upset.”

Franny considered this for a minute and asked, “Do you want me to go tell mommy? She says I should tell her if someone’s being mean. She can fix it.”

Ian smiled a little, patting her little back and shaking his head, “Nah, mommy already knows, she heard. And I think Uncle Mickey did a pretty good job telling him that what he said was wrong.”

Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh, “And I got more to say to that piece of shit if I ever see his Northside yuppy fucking face again.”

“I think he got the point Mick,” Ian sighed, “Don’t waste your time.”

Franny shrugged “Mommy and Uncle Lip and Aunt Tami were all still talking in there when I left. Mommy told me it was a good idea for me to come out here.”

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatcha wanna do, man? We can head back to the apartment, go to the Alibi and get tanked, I don’t care, it’s up to you.”

“Don’t know, I’m tired of running from things. And you were right Mick, it’s our fucking house. Could we just sit out here for a little while?” Mickey ran a thumb across Ian’s hand and mumbles so quietly, in that voice he only uses with Ian- “‘Course we can”

Having completed her task of delivering beers, Franny stood up and put her hands on her hips, “I’m going to go inside, I won’t let anyone be mean to you Uncle Ian.”

Ian looked up to lock eyes with his niece, “I appreciate it Fran, thanks.”

She stood up and gave Ian a kiss on the top of his head, no doubt a gesture she’d picked up from some other family member, likely Mickey or Fiona. Ian smiled as she turned away to walk back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Ian jerked his head towards the door, “Y’ready?”

Mickey hummed in agreement, standing and offering back his hand to help Ian up. They walked over the threshold of the kitchen into a conversation clearly about Mickey’s exchange with Chad. The Tamiettis were all sitting down in the living room, with the Gallaghers mostly standing, leaning against the various remaining surfaces. Lip’s hands were in his hair, a plain indication of his frustration and exhaustion. Tami abruptly stopped talking, in the middle of what seemed like an impassioned rant. She seemed unsure of how to continue now that Ian and Mickey had reentered the house. Debbie, sat on the couch with Franny in her lap, was scowling, while Liam absently stared at the wall, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Carl quickly walked into the kitchen from where he had been leaning up against the living room door frame, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go take a walk or something for a sec- I think Lip and Tami have it handled.”

Lip spoke up from the living room, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Mickey tensed, bracing himself. “No, it’s not fucking okay Phillip-“

Lip grumbled something about that not being what he meant, shaking his head, while Ian quietly interrupted his husband, forcing him to make eye contact.

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to just keep going over it, Mick. I’m not in the mood to educate him. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I want to move on. Lip can handle it.”

Carl nodded and repeated himself, “Go take a walk, come back in ten. Lip and Tami got it.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a joint and pressing it into Ian’s palm with a smirk.

“Rolled this for later, you guys take it.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey, who let out a sigh with a slouch, “Fine. Be back in ten.”

The two of them return to the backyard, Tami’s yelling resumed, her voice carrying all the way outside.

“M’sorry, I know I keep talkin’ when you just want it to be over with,” Mickey mumbled, looking down at the dead grass in the vacant lot beside the house.

Ian grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers brushing through Mickey’s short hair, “Hey, no. I… I appreciate you sticking up for me- seriously. I’m just tired… tonight’s not supposed to be about me y’know? It’s supposed to be about Lip and Tami, and Fred, not me. I just wanted to be Lip’s brother tonight, not the crazy brother, the sick brother. I just don’t wanna be the one that causes the issues anymore.”

“You didn’t cause this Ian. You being bipolar didn’t fucking cause this- that asshole, opening his mouth and not knowing when to shut it- that’s what caused it. I get that you just wanna let it go, and I will, but if he say’s something else-“

“If he says something else you can beat the shit out of him.”

Mickey grinned, looking up to meet Ian’s gaze. “Fucking fantastic. You wanna smoke this bitch?”

He grabbed the joint out of Ian’s hand and pulled a lighter from his flannel’s front pocket.

Ian finally cracked a smile, one that actually reaches his eyes, “Free weed? Fuck yeah.”

Mickey tossed the lighter to Ian, who caught it and lit the joint with a practiced flick. He took a couple hits and closed his eyes, smiling again as he exhaled the smoke. He handed the lit joint over to Mickey, along with his lighter and jerked his head in the direction of the van in the backyard, “Wanna go sit?”

Mickey nodded and breathed in a sharp inhale, heading in the direction of the passenger seat door.

Ian climbed up into the drivers seat, letting out a deep sigh, “Feel like I’m in high school again- sneaking around with you, trying to find somewhere to be alone.” Mickey chuckled and passed the joint back over.

They smoked in silence for a while, Ian nudging Mickey with his elbow as the ember approaches the filter, “You want the last hit?”

“Nah man, that’s yours,” Mickey shakes his head.

Ian took it, stubbing out the butt on the van’s dashboard and tossing it onto the floor.

“Still wanna kick his ass?” He asked, lazily turning his head towards Mickey with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I think I can contain myself.”

“Yeah?” Ian breathed, inching his face closer to his husband’s. The moon, freshly risen, highlighted Ian’s face, illuminating the dash of freckles across his nose.

Mickey didn’t answer, opting to close the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s hand came up to cradle Mickey’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek.

And if they didn’t make it back inside for a while, so be it.

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cheryblossomdreams · 3 years

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A Discussion About Dramione

This is a very difficult ship in the HP fandom, alongside others like Drarry etc.

However, I think there is something to be said for it regardless, since I’ve seen a lot of anti-Dramione content with some valid points and a lot of non valid ones too, so I suppose I’d like a try my hand at rebuking some of them.

1. Dramione shippers romanticize abuse and bullying.

At first glance, it certainly looks that way. Draco Malfoy was a racist, petty, spoiled bully that jumped on every opportunity to bully Hermione Granger and her friends. He is not a good character. In the Dramione fandom, no one claims he is a good character either. Instead, the Dramione fandom recognized the canon potential for change in Draco and uses that to shape their fanfics. The largest majority of the fandom (There do exist those really young fans that don’t quite yet understand everything that will blindly defend him or create extremely problematic fanart, but they are truly a minority) acknowledges entirely all the wrongs Draco has committed, and they are many. Actually, in most Dramione fics, the writers go to great lengths to process the part of DHr’s past that was filled with hatred and insults. You can find examples of this in the fic Measure of a Man by @inadaze22. Also to the point, most of Dramione fanfiction is written and set in a time many years after the War, after their school years, where they’ve both grown, matured and become adults, changed by time and what they went through, so it is a null point to say Dramione shippers romanticize bullying when their content is almost always set in a time where Draco is no longer a bully and Hermione is no longer a victim.

What the Dramione shippers like to emphasize is the fact that even though Draco used to be a horrible person, he had changed and grown past that, owned up to his mistakes and is now a different man. That’s what the stories they write are about. He had the potential to change already established in canon that he used later through his life to become someone better Hermione could eventually forgive and love.

You’ll be hard pressed to find a Dramione shipper that would say that while they were still in school they should’ve gotten together. Absolutely not. The content most of the Dramione fandom creates is always set post-canon, at a time where Draco’s changed and grown up from who he used to be, and Hermione recognizes his change and forgives him.

She certainly doesn’t have to forgive him, she doesn’t owe him anything, but part of Hermione’s bravery and overall character is that she would have been able to forgive him when she realized he’d changed. Plus, he saved her best friend’s life at a critical point in the war and, even though he did nothing to help her because he literally couldn’t have, which is something I’m pretty sure Hermione would have been grateful for, even a little bit.

The Malfoy family saved Harry’s life TWICE in HP, in both extremely critical moments in the war (Draco lying at the manor, Narcissa lying to Voldemort), which is something Hermione wouldn’t have been able to just ignore and pretend like it never happened, because that’s not who she is.

There probably is a very small percent of the Dramione fandom who create problematic content, but every fandom and every ship has toxic shippers, besides they are simply not the majority.

2. Dramione shippers use Hermione to redeem Draco.

The redemption arc Draco got in HP is extremely flimsy at best, especially considering the amount of damage he’d done prior. He saved Harry’s life, yes, but he did nothing to protect either Ron or Hermione, so personally I wouldn’t harp on about that being much of a redemption arc at all. However, I don’t think any Dramione shippers use Hermione to redeem him. In the Dramione content the things he did wrong and the hurt he inflicted is something Hermione recognizes and then, through the story, eventually chooses to leave behind. Besides, she doesn’t have to redeem him, since we know from canon he’d grown out of his beliefs eventually, privately at least if not publicly (more on this later).

3. Draco had a choice in how to act, if he really didn’t believe in blood supremacy.

No, he didn’t. Let me break it down why.

When he was 11 years old and first coming to Hogwarts, he was too young to understand the beliefs his parents ingrained into him were wrong and harmful, he simply didn’t have the mental capacity to comprehend that. He was a child that hung to every word their mom and dad said and he acted accordingly.

As he grew up though, started going through puberty and maturing, he would’ve realized that blood supremacy is wrong. Let’s say this realization came when he was 14. Lucius and Narcissa weren’t with him at Hogwarts, so if he changed his behavior to reflect his new realizations, they wouldn’t have known, right?

WRONG.

Do you really mean to tell me that if Draco Malfoy, only son and sole heir to the Malfoy family, an extremely wealthy, influential family in the Wizarding World and its politics, part of the sacred 28, well respected and with a high status in society, suddenly started being kinder and friendlier to Muggleborns and Halfbloods, people wouldn’t talk? People wouldn’t wonder, get suspicious? That such news wouldn’t reach his father, who’s got eyes and ears everywhere (evident by the fact he was able to bribe someone in Hogwarts to buy his son a position on the Quidditch team). And how do you think Lucius Malfoy, a devout Death Eater, would have reacted to receiving such news? What do you think would have happened to Draco when he came home that summer?

Draco was never abused and I doubt Lucius would start then, but I am positive he would’ve been disowned, for betraying the values his family had upheld for centuries. Lucius is a staunch blood purist and he absolutely would cut all contact with his son (disown him) when news reached him Draco was making nice with Muggleborns and Halfbloods.

And Draco knew this, he knew how strict his father was, he knew how deeply he believed in blood supremacy and he knew the consequences for stepping out of line and being anything less than the perfect son.

What would a 14-year old kid do being disowned? Homeless essentially?

So, even if he had realized the wrongs of his beliefs and renounced them, he couldn’t have done that publicly, and certainly not with Hermione Granger or Harry Potter much less, seeing as Harry Potter is the nemesis of the man his father believes in.

By the time he reaches 15 and 16, Voldemort is already at full power again and living in Draco’s house. Now things get even worse. After Lucius fails to get the Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort decides he has to punish him for his failure by having Draco take the Dark Mark. By this point, Draco had abandoned ideas of blood supremacy, but at this point, what the fuck is he going to do? Refuse The Dark Lord? The Darkest Wizard in all of Wizarding History? The guy who is living in his house AND holds the lives of him AND his entire family hostage? Who could and would murder Draco’s mother and father and Draco himself if Draco disobeyed? The man who murdered a person right on Draco’s kitchen table and had Nagini swallow them whole?

Even if all of that wasn’t true, and it is, how’s a 16 year old kid going to fight off a house full of seasoned Death Eaters, proficient at the Dark Arts who will use Unforgivables on him, plus Voldemort himself, plus a giant terrifying snake?

At that point, Draco is left with literally zero choice but to take the Mark and obey his mission to murder Dumbledore.

He hatches several plots to kill Dumbledore, all of which fail. When they stand at the Astronomy tower, even Dumbledore himself calls all of his plots halfhearted and weak. Dumbledore offers him help, but Draco is very clear in his regret of the things he’d done and the fact there’s no going back now.

‘I have to do this, I have to kill you, or he’s gonna kill me.’

AND

‘What do you know about me? I’ve done things that would shock you.’

(I’m paraphrasing here, these aren’t the exact quotes).

At which point Snape shows up and kills Dumbledore in Draco’s place because of the Vow he made to Narcissa.

Any way you look at it, he really didn’t have any choice, even if he did at some point during school renounce his beliefs and grow past them.

4. He tried to kill Ron.

I’ve seen antis blame Draco for this one, which is a bit ridiculous. He did not. He had madam Rosmerta poison a bottle of wine, which he sent to Horace Slughorn, hoping Slughorn would pass it onto Dumbledore. Filch hadn’t noticed any traces of poison in it, because he is a Squib, he also didn’t doubt a shipment from Rosmerta, and so he just gave it to Slughorn. Slughorn kept it around and then later he was the one to offer Ron a glass of that wine. In Draco’s plan, Ron wasn’t ever even mentioned nor included in any way. It had been an unlucky coincidence for Ron, and Draco couldn’t have possibly known that Slughorn would hold onto the wine, that Ron would ever be around Slughorn OR that Slughorn would offer Ron that same wine. Sufficed to say, Draco never attempted to murder Ronald Weasley.

5. He did nothing while Bellatrix tortured Hermione.

We’ve been over this, what could he have done? He had saved Harry’s life earlier, but that one lie couldn’t of spared Ron or Hermione, their faces were too recognizable, even if Harry’s wasn’t.

A room full of Death Eaters, some of the cruelest, most dangerous ones mind you (Bellatrix Lestrange) and he’d be 17, if I remember correctly, still not even an adult, plus at this point in the war even more powerless (considering the fact the Malfoys had fallen out of favor with Voldemort, evident by the fact Lucius tells Draco that if they deliver Harry Potter to Voldemort, all would be forgiven).

What did you expect him to do? Leap into battle and try to fend off dozens of Death Eaters, effectively betraying the Dark Lord in the process and single-handedly getting his entire family killed, if not even himself?

Would you have done that? No, of course not.

6. Draco Malfoy is not redeemable.

Now Draco’s “redemption arc”, if it can be called that, is a powerful moment but it’s flimsy. JK didn’t really ever intend for him to be redeemed or liked either, but let’s take a look at it anyways.

It is canon that Draco stopped believing in blood supremacy at some point during their school years, though we can’t know exactly when.

How can I say this, when his behavior never indicated that?

Well, I’ve already been over why he couldn’t have suddenly changed his behavior, now let’s go through how I can claim it is canon.

The scene where Draco lies to everyone about Harry’s identity.

That moment could only exist IF Draco didn’t believe in blood supremacy anymore.

Think about it, if Draco was devout to Voldemort and his beliefs like his father, he would have had no problem or conscience to tell everyone ‘Yes, this is Harry Potter, hand him over.’ It would have been favorable to him if Harry died.

And let’s be clear, if Draco had said the truth in that moment, Harry would have died. He was captured, wandless (his is broken, when they escape the Manor he steals Draco’s), Ron and Hermione captured as well, he was entirely helpless and surrounded by powerful Dark Arts wizards and witches who would lead him directly to Voldemort the moment they got confirmation it was indeed him and that would have been it. Voldemort would have killed him. Voldemort would have won.

But that isn’t what happened.

Draco looked at Harry, recognized it was him (evident by a later scene where Harry straight up says that. “Why didn’t you tell her? Bellatrix? You knew it was me, you didn’t say anything.”) and at first, still unsure what to do, asked why Harry’s face was like that, and he’s told Harry just came in like that.

Draco says “I’m not sure.”

At that point Lucius grips him and tells him that if they gave up Harry Potter to Voldemort all would be forgiven, Bellatrix brings him closer to get a second look.

Draco knows all the consequences of what he’s doing at this point, he knows what he’s risking, the literal lives of everyone he loves, and what does he do?

He still lies.

‘I can’t be sure.’

It’s a powerful moment for his character, BUT it’s not enough for redemption. The amount of pain and hatred he’d spewed for 6 years (I say 6 years because The Golden Trio wasn’t attending Hogwarts for year 7) is not redeemed by this one instance. His actions, letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, likely torturing people on command of the Carrows in 7th year, are not redeemed by this moment, even if he did save Harry’s life.

However, though this instance doesn’t constitute redemption, it is telling of the fact Draco has changed, and changed significantly from the hateful, angry, spoiled, racist brat he used to be, which gives him potential to grow up into a different, better man.

Whether JK intended it or not, the way that was written makes Draco Malfoy more than redeemable, if not for the duration of the books, then later through his life.

Being a horrible person at one point in your life does not make you forever evil, does not mean you can not ever change. To prove this, I’d like to humbly request you to watch this video:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSH5EY-W5oM

Voldemort’s regime is very similar to Hitler’s Nazi movement, so this video is very fitting to my point and HP in general.

Here’s another three:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORp3q1Oaezw

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fw0vS0qvYo0&list=TLPQMTcxMjIwMjBZfqJdkbbQJw&index=2

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4gly9n9RBo&list=TLPQMTcxMjIwMjBZfqJdkbbQJw&index=3

If you don’t have time to watch, let me sum it up for you.

The first video chronicles the story of a man who’d been part of the Neo-Nazi movement, managed to leave it behind and become an activist and overall an amazing guy now.

The other three links chronicle the story of Daryl Davis, a black man who’d attended KKK rallies and even met with the Imperial Wizard of the KKK Roger Kelly, somehow despite all odds became friends with him and eventually managed to get through to Roger Kelly to the point where this man (The leader of the KKK on a national scale) stepped down from his position and left the Ku Klux Klan.

That’s real life, something like that happened, truly happened, but Draco Malfoy is irredeemable?

PLUS, Draco is hardly the first case like this.

Take James Potter as an example. James was also a rich, racist, privileged white boy, and a bully. He’d bullied Snape severely, even set up a “prank” with his friends that would lead to Snape getting attacked by a WEREWOLF, putting him in mortal peril, with great potential of killing him, that required then a rescue operation.

James attempted murder, or if you don’t want to go that far, he set up a situation that quite possibly could have gotten someone killed, and he got to mature and grow past his behaviors and redeem himself, fall in love with Lily and have a wonderful son.

Why couldn’t Draco change when James had?

In conclusion, I think there’s a big diifference between what the Dramione fandom actually is and what antis think it is.

The heart of the Dramione fandom is about growing and changing and maturing and forgiving and falling in love despite the differences of the past.

It’s not about romanticizing bullying or toxic relationships, life is not black and white people, people can change and grow from their past actions and people can also forgive and move on.

There’s plenty of examples in the books of Harry and Ron mistreating Hermione and they all move past those instances (obviously that can’t be compared to what Draco did, I’m just making a point here).

I do acknowledge that the Dramione shippers have some bad apples among them, some problematic people that take it all too far, but honestly, every fandom and every ship has bad, toxic people so you can’t really use that against them.

All in all, things aren’t the way antis always present them, there’s a lot more gray there, and I hope this entirely too long post helped some of y’all see that.

#dramione #dramione discourse #pro dramione #a defence of dramione #anti dramione discussions

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iwascum · 3 years

Text

lost time - punk!matsukawa issei x female reader

chapter one of what i would do to you

ao3 link | wattpad link

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you said, resting your forehead against his, gazing into his dark eyes.

“Me too,” he replied quietly, gazing back at you, “Are we just a pair of idiots who have been wanting to fuck each other this entire time without actually saying anything?”

You blushed and giggled, adjusting yourself so that you were straddled over his lap. You could feel his cock beginning to strain against the fabric of his swimsuit, and you realised with a jolt just how well-endowed Mattsun was. “I think we are.”

Your least favourite part of a vacation had to be the packing. You sat on the floor of your dorm, almost every article of clothing you owned strewn on the floor around you with almost none of it inside of your suitcase. You groaned as you surveyed the mess, cursing your terrible packing skills. What was the weather even like in Hokkaido at this time of year? Were you going to need a jacket? What about walking shoes? How many outfits did you even wear in a week?

Sighing, you picked up your phone to text your friends begging for help. You had organised this trip to Hokkaido with your four best friends, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa, but admittedly Iwa and Makki had done most of the planning. That left you high and dry, without much of a clue as to what the week held for the five of you, and no idea what to bring. Before you could even open the group chat to ask, though, you heard your door swing open, and the familiar faces of Hanamaki and Matsukawa entered the room.

“Guys, knock!” you said, spinning around to face them. The two boys grinned at your indignation, striding into the room despite your objection.

“What, not like we’ve never walked in on you naked before,” said Hanamaki with a smirk, picking up one of your bras from your pillow and tossing it aside with an expression of mock disgust before sitting down on your bed. He did have a point- you, Makki, and Mattsun had been friends since before you even started elementary school, and they’d probably seen you without clothes more times than you cared to remember. Still, you crossed your arms, not wanting to budge on your boundaries.

“And what would you do if you walked in and there was a guy in here?”

“Ask to join in,” Mattsun said without missing a beat, flashing a wicked grin as he did so, “Been a while since I got some good dick.”

You snorted and threw a balled-up sock at him, which he dodged with the expertise of someone who had been avoiding volleyballs for years. It was through Mattsun and Makki playing volleyball that you guys had met Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and the five of you had remained firm friends, despite the latter two boys choosing to go to a different university than you and your childhood pals. They would be joining the three of you soon though, with their flight to Hokkaido scheduled for the day after yours. You were excited for the gang to all be back together again, or at least you would be if you didn’t have to pack before that could happen.

“Why does it look like a bomb went off in here?” Makki asked, leaning languidly against your bed frame.

“Because I suck at packing, Hiro, you know that!” you whined, flopping over your suitcase in defeat. The lighter haired boy sighed, standing back up and walking over to kneel on the floor next to you.

“Well, you’re probably gonna need sweaters, and we might go hiking, so sneakers are a good idea,” he said, retrieving a pair of shoes from the pile of clothes next to him, “Plus Tooru suggested we have a nice meal out at some point, so you might wanna bring something that makes you not look homeless.”

You swatted his arm lightly at the playful insult, but were glad for his help nonetheless. Despite their constant teasing, Mattsun and Makki cared for you deeply, and you felt the same way about them. You knew they wouldn’t let you come on the trip unprepared, even though they’d probably tell you otherwise. However, you and Makki’s discussion on what to bring was cut short by a long, low whistle from your other friend.

“Now what do we have here?” Mattsun was standing next to your bed holding something small and black in his tattooed hands. You realised with a start that it was your new bikini that you had bought for this trip, an admittedly quite skimpy getup that one of your girlfriends had convinced you to buy at the mall. You blushed at the sight of him dangling it in the air, and jumped up to snatch it from him.

“Issei! Give that back!” you demanded, but he held it just out of your reach, the height difference between the two of you giving him an advantage.

“You gonna model this for us in Hokkaido?” he grinned at you, light glinting off of his lip piercings as he did so, “I’ll be looking forward to that.”

Clambering onto the bed, you managed to snatch the swimsuit back from him. He laughed mischievously, pleased to have gotten such a good reaction out of you, and let you place the offending article of clothing in your suitcase.

“One more comment like that and I’ll gouge your eyes out before you can see me in it, asshole.”

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The flight from Miyagi to Hokkaido was largely uneventful, save for Makki managing to spill his bottled water all over his shoes during some turbulence and Mattsun consistently complaining about how Japanese airline seats were not made for people over six feet tall. This was all forgotten by the time you three stepped out of the airport, breathing in the crisp, cool air that greeted you. You shivered slightly, glad that Makki had told you to bring a sweater. He and Mattsun didn’t seem phased by the cold weather at all, though, and stretched their arms out to embrace the cool breeze.

“Finally!” Mattsun sighed happily, folding his arms behind his head, the tattoos decorating them rippling as he did so, “You rented a car for us, right Hiro?”

“Yeah,” the other boy replied, pulling out his phone to check the details, “Should be at that rental place over there.”

“Sweet, I’ll drive,” Mattsun smiled, and you quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The darker haired boy was certainly the better driver of your two friends, even if he did insist on blaring rap music as he did so. Regardless, you could put up with it if it meant you could avoid Makki’s chaotic driving for the time being.

The three of you made your way to the rental car office, with Makki ducking inside to get the keys and sign the paperwork whilst you and Mattsun waited outside. Mattsun chose to pass the time by using your head as an armrest, much to your annoyance. After several unsuccessful attempts, you managed to grab his forearm, pulling it off of your head.

“Issei!” you protested, holding his arm firmly away from you, “Quit!”

He grinned at you, a devilish glint in his eyes. Messing with you was one of his favourite activities, and the fact that you were on holiday wasn’t going to stop him from partaking in it.

“Make me,” he hummed, flexing his forearm in an attempt to wiggle free of your grasp. You blushed, letting go of him and instead giving him a light smack to the belly. He laughed and slung the offending arm around your shoulders instead. You swear, if you didn’t know any better you’d really think he was flirting with you sometimes. Not that you’d exactly be mad about that, per se. Mattsun was attractive, his physique tall and muscular from years of volleyball, and you’d be lying if you said you’d never wondered what those lip rings would feel like pressed against your skin. You two had been friends forever though, if he really wanted to make a move he could have, and you weren’t about to throw away a lifetime’s worth of friendship over the fact that you occasionally thought about him and his tongue piercing when you were alone at night.

At that moment, Makki emerged from inside the rental building, holding a car key triumphantly in the air.

“Let’s go!” he said, tossing Mattsun the keys with a lazy smile, and the three of you piled yourselves and your luggage into the rental and got on your way. You chose to sit in the passenger seat next to Mattsun as he drove, with Makki stretching out in the back. You spent the first half an hour or so of the drive laughing and cracking jokes, full of excitement at the fact that you were finally in Hokkaido, but eventually the conversation quieted down and Makki announced that he was going to take a nap. You and Mattsun lapsed into comfortable silence to allow your friend to do so, instead taking in the gorgeous scenery and bopping your heads softly to Mattsun’s playlist, which thankfully was also turned down for Makki’s sake.

You found yourself glancing at Mattsun out of the corner of your eye, one of his hands gripping the steering wheel, the other mindlessly tapping along to the song that was playing. You couldn’t help but admire the dark ink that adorned his slender fingers and toned arms, snaking its way across his skin to create intricate designs. His finger tattoos had hurt a lot, he’d told you, but not as badly as the ones on his neck. Mattsun certainly didn’t look like the average college student, his arms and chest covered in ink and his face and ears full of piercings. The two of you often got weird looks when you went out in public together, with you being relatively normal looking, at least in comparison to Mattsun. In fact, on more than one occasion, concerned people had pulled you aside to make sure he wasn’t a yakuza member who had kidnapped you or the like. You knew he honestly couldn’t care less though, and you did think his tattoos were cool, even though you also knew it had been a challenge for Makki and Iwa to find a hot spring for this trip that would let the five of you in with Mattsun in tow.

You didn’t even notice that you had dozed off while thinking until you felt the dark-haired boy softly shaking your shoulder.

“Y/N, we’re here,” he said gently, a smile playing at his lips when you jerked up in surprise. Blinking and looking around, you noticed that the sun had begun to set on the hilly horizon, casting a golden light over what you assumed was the cottage you guys were renting for your trip as well as your friend’s face.

“Sorry, didn’t realise I fell asleep,” you murmured, yawning and stretching your arms above your head.

“Well time to wake up, your luggage isn’t gonna bring itself inside,” Makki said, poking his head between the front seats with a grin. You wondered when he himself had awoken, but regardless followed his orders and got out of the car, enjoying the feeling of stretching your legs and once again feeling grateful for your sweater.

It wasn’t long until the three of you had managed to get all your bags inside and started exploring the house you were staying in, with Mattsun loudly proclaiming that he got first dibs on rooms since he drove. This led to a brief scuffle between him and Makki, who felt he got first pick because he did most of the planning for the trip, which eventually led to you smacking the two of them over the heads with a pillow and unintentionally starting a pillow fight. After the three of you had thoroughly worn yourselves out and agreed to save the room selections for later, you made your way back to the living room, where Makki flopped down on the sofa and began talking about getting dinner. The three of you settled on delivery, worn out from your day of travel, and you leaned over Makki’s shoulder for a while as he scrolled through options on his phone.

“Hey guys, come look at this!” You eventually heard Mattsun call from outside. You poked your head around the sliding door to the deck outside and gasped. The deck was completely fitted out with everything you could need to enjoy a chilly evening with your friends, with comfy looking outdoor chairs surrounding a small fire pit, overlooking a gorgeous view of the mountains, as well as what looked like-

“Is that a hot tub?” You asked excitedly, stepping outside to investigate.

“Looks like it,” said Mattsun eagerly, pulling back the cover on the thing to confirm his suspicions.

“Cool, right?” Makki leant against the doorframe, crossing his arms and taking in the view, “The hot tub was Iwa’s idea. It was a little more expensive, but I think it’ll be worth it.”

“For sure,” Mattsun pulled the cover back over the tub and straightened up, looking pleased, “We’re totally using this after dinner.”

“Well we have to order dinner first to be able to do that, so get your asses in here and tell me what you want!” Makki said, turning and heading back inside. You and Mattsun exchanged a smile and then ran in after him, jumping onto the sofa next to your friend to decide what you all wanted to eat.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

The rest of the evening passed by relatively quickly, with the three of you resolving to order a pizza and watch some stupid YouTube videos on the TV while you ate. You all were lounging on one of the couches on your phones as you let your dinner digest, your head resting on Makki’s shoulder while your legs stretched across Mattsun’s lap. Suddenly, the latter boy perked his head up and put down his phone.

“Hot tub?” he inquired eagerly. You sat up as well, nodding enthusiastically. You had almost forgotten about the hot tub over dinner, but your friend’s reminder rekindled your excitement. Makki yawned.

“You guys go ahead, I think I’m gonna go to bed,” he said, standing up and stretching, “Someone has to be awake tomorrow morning to let Tooru and Iwa in, and I know damn well it isn’t gonna be either of you two.”

You giggled guiltily. Makki was right, you and Mattsun certainly weren’t morning people, but still-

“You sure you won’t come in with us? Not even for a little bit?” you asked, tilting your head up at your friend.

“Nah, cause I’ll have to shower and shit afterwards. Not worth it,” Makki replied, “Don’t let me stop you guys though.” And with that he left, grabbing his suitcase from by the front door and wheeling it down the hall.

“Aw man, he’s gonna steal the best room,” Mattsun whined, slumping down on the couch in defeat.

“Oh well, just means more hot tub for us!” you said, prodding his shoulder with a giggle, “Come on, let’s go!”

“Patience is a virtue,” he replied, pushing your legs off of his lap and standing up. You followed his actions, rising from your seat and walking over to your bag.

“Yeah, because you’re so virtuous,” you teased, dodging him as he swatted at you in retaliation. You laughed, grabbing your bag and darting away from him before locking yourself in the bathroom to get changed.

You rummaged through your bag, searching for the swimsuit that you brought. You felt a slight shiver run up your spine as you remembered Mattsun’s comments on it from the day before. He’d obviously just been messing with you, but a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he wasn’t. Did you want him to be messing with you? You pondered as you changed. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but notice that your bikini somehow seemed even smaller than you remembered, the lack of fabric highlighting the curves of your hips and breasts. You shivered, feeling a little exposed, but you couldn’t help but wonder if Mattsun would like your new purchase. Wait, did you want him to like it?

You shook your head, trying to replace your swirling thoughts with a firm reminder that he was your best friend and nothing more, before grabbing a towel and heading outside. Mattsun was already in the hot tub when you arrived, his long, tattooed arms resting along the rim of the tub as he relaxed in the steamy water. His dark eyes looked you up and down, taking in your outfit, but he didn’t comment on it, much to your relief- or was it disappointment?

“Took you long enough,” he grinned, sitting up slightly.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, dropping your towel on a chair and walking over to join him. You dipped a tentative foot in the water, the warmth flowing across your skin, before lowering yourself into the tub. You let a contented smile spread across your face, allowing your eyes to wander across the starry sky and the mountains in the distance before coming to rest on Mattsun. You forgot just how expansive his body modifications were sometimes, his tattoos covering his entire chest and arms, with his massive back piece peeking out over his shoulders. His nipples were pierced as well, a gunmetal barbel through each of them, and you had to admit that the entire ensemble, along with his toned muscles and abs, was impressive to look at.

“Enjoying the view?” he smirked, noticing your gaze. You flushed, not realising that you had been staring.

“Yeah, that view, idiot,” you said, pointing to the mountains before splashing him with water, hoping he wouldn’t notice how flustered you were. He laughed, holding his hands up in defence before turning back to look at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?” Before you could even respond, he stood up and scooped you up in his arms, holding you above the water.

“Issei!” you protested, knowing what he was planning to do, but you stood no chance. Grinning, he quickly bent his knees, dunking you under the water despite your protests. You emerged with a splutter, his arms still around you, “Issei, you dick!”

He just laughed, his strong grasp preventing you from moving away as the warm water ran down your face, “You totally asked for it.”

“Did not!” you said indignantly, pushing your wet hair away from your eyes, “Now put me down.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Mattsun replied, lifting you slightly higher above the water. You tensed, the feeling of his strong arms lifting your body so easily making you feel things you’d rather not admit.

“Issei, put me down!” you said again, bracing your hands against his shoulders so as not to lose your balance. His skin was warm and wet, and you could feel his firm muscles as he dangled you above the water.

“Do you really want me to?”

“What?” You froze, not sure if you’d understood him correctly, “Why wouldn’t I want you to…”

Mattsun chuckled, his dark eyes moving across your dripping, scantily-clad figure. What little fabric there was clung to you in an almost obscene way, and he drank it all in with an expression of amusement and thinly disguised lust.

“Come on, Y/N…” he said softly, his voice almost a purr, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been looking at me lately. Let’s face it, we both know I’m hot.”

“I…” You trailed off, blushing hard, “S-so what if you’re hot? That doesn’t mean anything!”

“Doesn’t it?” He was leaning his face closer to you now, practically whispering in your ear, his voice low and husky, “Are you telling me you wouldn’t like it if I kissed you right now?”

“I…” You weren’t sure how to respond. Was this really happening? Was your childhood best friend really making a move on you right now? Although, you couldn’t say you didn’t like how his eyes were sweeping over you hungrily, how his grip was tightening slightly around your body.

“Kiss me, then.”

The words left your mouth before you even realised, and Mattsun grinned before pressing his lips against yours. His mouth was wet from the steam, and his lip rings pressed into your skin as he kissed you deeply. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you nonetheless leaned into the kiss, wrapping your arms around Mattsun’s neck and pulling him closer. He let out a small groan of pleasure, slowly sitting back down in the water without removing his arms or his lips from your body. You felt one of his hands slide down to your thigh and you let out a squeak of surprise, and he used your open mouth as an invitation to press his tongue past your teeth. The dual sensations of his fingers beginning to squeeze your thigh and his tongue exploring your mouth made you shudder, but you continued to kiss him back, your own tongue slipping past his lips as you deepened the kiss. It was a while before you two broke apart, breathing heavily from both the steamy air and your excitement.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” you said, resting your forehead against his, gazing into his dark eyes.

“Me too,” he replied quietly, gazing back at you, “Are we just a pair of idiots who have been wanting to fuck each other this entire time without actually saying anything?”

“Well damn, no time like the present,” he murmured, his choice of words light, but the huskiness of his voice and the darkness of his eyes gave away just how turned on he was.

You smiled and closed the distance between your lips once again, wrapping your arms around Mattsun’s neck and leaning your body in as close to his as you possibly could. His hands trailed up and down your torso as you kissed him, exploring the curve of your waist and the bare expanse of your back before one settled on your hip, the other reaching up to tentatively palm your breast through your swimsuit. You gasped and involuntarily bucked your hips, grinding them against Mattsun’s clothed erection, earning a groan of pleasure from the middle blocker as his fingers began to lightly knead at your breast. You leant back slightly to allow him easier access to your chest before experimentally rolling your hips again, revelling in the friction it produced between the two of you. The hand on your hip tightened its grip, urging you to continue, and so you did, grinding your own clothed sex against Mattsun’s in search of some relief from the boiling pressure that was growing inside of you.

You didn’t object when you felt the boy move his hand away from your breast to tug at the strings of your bikini, letting him untie them and pull the wet fabric away from your body. You shivered, your nipples perking up in response to the chilly night air. It wasn’t long before Mattsun’s deft fingers were around one of them, however, rolling the nub between his fingertips with practiced ease. Pulling away from your lips, he let his eyes rake up and down your now naked torso, taking in the sight of your soaked figure. His gaze came to rest upon your exposed breasts, and he cocked a pierced brow.

“You cold?” he asked, the familiar teasing tone returning to his voice as he gave your nipple a squeeze. You gasped, but before you could object to his words his mouth was on your other nipple, tongue encircling it. You let a whimper escape your mouth and dropped your head onto his shoulder, your hands grabbing at his back as you gave your hips a particularly aggressive roll. This only encouraged Mattsun, and you felt his teeth graze against your skin, nipping at the bare flesh. You moaned and dug your nails into his shoulder blades, the growing pressure below your stomach making you desperate for a release.

“Issei, I…” you whimpered into his neck, “Please, Issei, I need you.”

“Need me to do what?” he murmured, barely pulling his mouth off of you enough to form the words. You felt his hot breath dance across your skin as he awaited your response, and you bit your lip.

“I… Touch me,” Your words were soft, spoken into his neck, “Please.”

That was all he needed to hear. His hands moved quickly, one sliding from your hip to the small of your back to hold you steady while the other slipped down your front, coming to a rest against your clothed cunt. You gasped at the feeling of his fingers pressing against you, your head jerking up from where it had been resting on his shoulder. His eyes found yours, and the two of you locked lips again as he began to stroke you through your swimsuit. You mewled into his mouth as your hips bucked involuntarily, desperate for more pressure from his long, slim fingers. He found your clit easily even through the layer of fabric, and he rubbed small circles around it, breaking the pattern every so often to deliver pressure directly to your sweet spot. He was good at this, so good at this, and you didn’t even want to think about how many other girls he’d done this with to be this skilled, because in that moment you wanted Mattsun and his touch all to yourself for the rest of your life.

The dark-haired boy seemed to sense your desperation, and in one fluid motion he hooked his arms under your legs and swung your body around to sit you on the edge of the hot tub, your back pressed against the railings surrounding the deck. His teeth nipped at your lip and gave it an affectionate tug before he pulled away, resulting in a whine escaping you at the sudden lack of sensation against both your mouth and your sex. Your frustration didn’t last long, though, as you realised what Mattsun’s intentions were. You watched him sink down to his knees in the warm water, his eyes dark with lust as he hooked an inquisitive finger under the waistband of your bikini bottoms.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper. You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to slip off the last article of clothing keeping him from your body. He tossed what was left of your swimsuit onto the deck before parting your legs and turning his gaze to your exposed sex, swollen and glistening with more than just water.

“Fuck,” he murmured, dragging an experimental finger along your slit, making you shudder, “Such a pretty pussy, Y/N, why have you been keeping this from me for so long?”

If you had been a little more clear headed you might have made a sarcastic remark about not generally making a habit of fucking your childhood friends, but as it was, Mattsun’s words went straight to your pussy and your found yourself unable to respond, choosing instead to twist your fingers into his damp hair as he continued to drag a solitary finger up and down your sex.

“God, I wanna fucking taste you so bad, Y/N, you have no idea,” he moved his face closer to your skin, his laboured breaths against your cunt giving away just how turned on he was. Your own breath caught in your throat as he gazed up at you, his expression seeking permission to close the gap between his mouth and your body. You didn’t think you’d ever seen anything so hot in your life, and your grip on his hair tightened as you nodded shakily.

“Please, Issei, I want you,” you breathed. You didn’t need to tell him twice and his mouth was on you in an instant, his tongue hot and wet as he greedily lapped up your taste, arms wrapping around your thighs to hold you steady. You gasped, your grip on his locks tightening once again, and it might have been almost painful for him if his attention was anywhere but your cunt right now. He moved with practiced ease, alternating between licking long, broad stripes across your hole and circling your clit with his tongue, pausing sometimes to flick his tongue back and forth across the sensitive bud. He felt incredible, his tongue piercing felt incredible, and you made sure to let him know, letting curses and satisfied noises fall freely from your lips. He responded with groans of his own, the sound reverberating down your cunt which only served to make the experience feel even better.

You were sure you could cum soon, and he must have sensed it, because he moved his attention to suck lightly on your clit, freeing up space for two long fingers to slip inside you. The sounds of pleasure coming from your mouth were absolutely obscene at this point, the sensation of him inside of you almost too much to handle. You felt his fingers curling slightly, searching for a spot he knew would make you come undone, and when he finally brushed against it you did just that.

“Issei, I, fuck, I’m gonna cum!” The words tumbled from your lips, your hands grasping at his hair, trying to find some anchor in the dark strands. Your exclamation only served to encourage him further, his tongue dancing rapidly across your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, brushing against your sweet spot. With a cry you felt your climax hit you, throwing your head back in bliss as your vision went white. Mattsun dutifully coaxed you through your high, not ceasing his movements until he was absolutely sure that you had wrung every last drop of pleasure out of your orgasm. He slowly pulled his fingers out from you, simultaneously removing his mouth from where it had been sucking your clit with a lewd popping sound that made you twitch. He gazed up at you as you watched him, his chest rising and falling with heavy pants, and you noted to yourself that your best friend looked especially hot with your cum smeared across his face.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, taking in each other’s expressions as you both caught your breath. Mattsun’s eyes were still hungry as he wiped his face, taking in your breathless form with undisguised desire, and you noticed as he rose to stand above you that there was an impressive tent in his shorts.

“Y/N…” he murmured, moving his face close to yours, “Let me fuck you. Please.”

In a normal situation you might have needed a little more time to recover after cumming as hard as you just did, but his words sent a jolt to your sex that told you that you were already ready to go again. You nodded.

‘Fuck me, Issei,” you whispered. His lips crashed against yours in an instant, giving you a deep, desperate kiss before leaning back to remove his own clothes. You watched as he did so, eyes clouded with desire, and you instinctively licked your lips when you saw his cock spring free. He was huge, a good seven or eight inches by the looks of it, with an impressive girth to match. You gazed down at his cock thirstily and it throbbed in appreciation, revealing a familiar glint of metal on the underside.

“Is that…?” you breathed, your eyes darting upwards to meet Mattsun’s gaze. He smirked.

“A piercing? Yeah,” he said, stepping closer so that he was standing between your legs, “Not all of my body mods are for the eyes of the public, you know.”

You sucked in a breath and reached out a hand to tentatively stroke him, the dark-haired boy letting out a soft hiss of appreciation as he felt your fingers wrap around his member. He bit his lip, eyelids fluttering shut as you moved your hand up and down his length, pausing to brush your fingers over the bar through his frenum, “Fuck, Y/N…”

“You’re so big, Issei…” you murmured, partially stroking his ego and partially genuinely awed. He let out a soft sigh as your thumb swiped over the tip, smearing the beads of precum that had gathered there.

“Think you can take it?” he purred, the teasing tone you knew so well lacing his words, but instead of annoying you this time it only served to turn you on more.

“Only one way to find out,” You locked eyes with him, trying to match his playful timbre, but the shakiness of your voice gave away how badly you wanted him.

He grinned almost hungrily before moving closer to you, positioning his hips between your open legs. Your gaze darted back and forth between his face and his impressive length, and you bit your lip as you felt it graze ever so slightly across your cunt. His hands moved downwards, one pushing your thigh outwards slightly more and one wrapping around his cock, lining himself up with your dripping hole before pushing himself in. He moved agonisingly slowly, and you whimpered as you felt yourself stretching around him, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut. He let out a soft grunt of his own as his full length slipped inside of you, his hands moving up to brace himself against the railing behind you.

“Fuck, so tight,” he murmured. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words in your throat turned into a yelp as Mattsun quickly pulled out and thrust back in, hard. His lips moved to cover yours as he began to build a steady, intense rhythm, his tongue tangling with yours as he thrust into you. Your hands wrapped around his back, nails scraping at his skin, searching for some kind of handhold while you moaned into his mouth. His snakebites pressed firmly against your lower lip, occasionally drawing away to take a breath before kissing you once more. All of his movements were rapid, voracious, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your insides clenching around his dick, couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your tongue dancing with his. You could feel how badly he’d wanted this, how much his body ached for you, and it only served to turn you on more. You couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d thought of you while alone at night, whether or not he’d ever moaned your name before, and you instinctively clenched around him at the thought.

“Fuck, Issei, fuck, you feel so good,” The words spilled from your mouth as he pulled away from your lips, panting hard, “You feel so good inside of me, fuck, wanna feel you cum inside of me- ah!”

Your words were cut off as he slightly changed the angle of his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against your sweet spot. You gasped, nails digging into his back as he thrust against it again.

“Oh fuck, Issei, right there!” You clenched around him tighter, scraping long red lines down his back. He groaned, dropping his head onto your shoulder, teeth grazing the crook of your neck as he sped up his pace. You could feel the familiar pressure building in your abdomen, the taut coil of pleasure about to spring free as Mattsun brought you to your climax for the second time.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so fucking close,” the middle blocker hissed into your neck, dropping his arms to wrap around your waist as his tempo continued to increase. You could feel his chest pressed flush against your own, his laboured breath against your neck, the rhythm of his thrusts growing more and more erratic as he approached his peak. The moans tumbling from your lips turned into a cry of pleasure as he landed a particularly hard thrust against your sweet spot and you came undone once again, eyes rolling back in your head as he coaxed you through your second blinding orgasm. He followed soon after, fingers gripping your waist hard enough to bruise as he finished inside you. You felt his cock pulse as he let out a breathy moan, filling you with his cum as you came down from your own high. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, catching your breath and enjoying the closeness of your skin. After what seemed like an aeon he pulled out of you, his seed spilling out of your hole as he did so.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he breathed, gazing down at your spent body, “You were so good.”

“Issei, I…” you responded shakily, still out of breath, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that.”

He grinned, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss against your forehead, “Should’ve told me sooner, doll, I would have fucked the shit out of you in high school if you’d asked.”

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I should have.”

“Mmm,” he cupped your face with his hand, tilting your chin up to once again close the distance between your lips, “Maybe we just need to make up for lost time then.”

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fakeloveaskblog · 3 years

Note

Hi Logan, how do I even start? Save this number, if you want to. I have been supporting Remy through texts for a bit. They have revealed to me some very troubling things in the past. Things like, their boyfriend kicking their cane from under them as a ‘joke’? Those kinds of things.

Virgil, that's his name by the way, also kind of yells at them a lot at times, and tells them they're worthless except for the use he can give to their body and that nobody else will ever love them. They believe they are horrible. They believe they deserve it. They appear to think their disability makes them only a burden to him and nothing else and while I have tried to convince them to the contrary I honestly don't believe I can when they're still trapped by choice in such a toxic environment.

I have tried to help and give them the tools to better their self-esteem and combat that, and send them nice text messages in general, but that hasn't helped in anything more than a superficial level. If you can do something, anything, or could take their case to someone who can something, I'd really appreciate that.

(Words: 2088)

(Talk of U!Virgil)

Logan: "That is...That is" He took a moment to gather himself "That is even worse than I had estimated"

"This must have been happening the other times we met them too right? And we didn't notice anything. We should have- we-" Patty mumbled out. Her voice was shaky.

She had just gotten home half an hour ago or so, she wasn't even fully out of her cosplay makeup. Logan had immediately pulled her into a hug which wasn't uncommon but he'd held onto her so hard it hurt and he’d been close to collapsing into the hug.

All it took was her asking if he was alright for him to tell her everything. He couldn't keep a secret from her even if he tried.

Now they sat in the couch. Logan had his head leaned on her chest and she had moved her arms around his waist. All they'd eaten was some of the leftover pie from Lo's date a few days ago because both of them were far too worked up to even think about cooking.

Patty pinched the bridge of her nose and tried to think "Okay well if they're being emotionally abused as what we know suggest then...I..is there even anyone we can contact that could help. I mean there's no- there's no evidence right? Or well- it's just- it's their word against Virgil's and if they won't even say Virgil is abusing them then there's nothing!"

"We can kidnap them" Logan pointed out.

"That we can"

Logan sighed “Do you think talking to them would even make a difference? They seem to already hate me so now it’s even less likely that they’ll listen”

“Well honey you can always try. They go to the same therapist as Janus right? So you can just casually ‘run into them’ right?” She gave him a loving kiss “I know my lil smarty-sweetheart can help them”

He sent her a tired smile “I’ll try”

Remy wasn’t as upset from the therapy session as they usually were. It had mostly been discussing how they felt about maybe being poly. They still thought they deserved a smoke break afterwards though so now they sat on bench right outside the entrance, they were on their third cigarette.

They had their head leaned against the back of the bench and was looking up at the greying sky and falling leaves so they didn’t notice when Logan sat down. He kept his distance to not startle them but cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Are you also waiting for someone?” He asked.

They glanced over to him “Girl go fuck yourself with a rake”

“Noted. I will put it in my calender. I for one am here to pick up Janus after his therapy is over for the day. Mayhaps I will show him some more star trek”

“Okay great gal. Then I’m just like waiting for Remus I guess” They pressed the cigarette into their leather jacket to put it out so they could leave as soon as they saw their cru- friend.

Logan inched closer “Is your bruise healing well?”

“Just ‘cause we’re in the same place doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other!” They snapped back.

“Exscuse me, I was simply worried about your physical health”

They rolled their eyes and crossed their arms before mumbling out “It’s fine. It’s whatever. I haven’t done it again so like forget it”

“I am relieved to hear that”

Silence fell over them. Remy refused to look at him. Logan tried to figure out what was the best way to ask them about Virgil.

“....Your boyfriend did not insult you once you came home right?” He asked them in such a soft tone as if any slight wrong saying would make them implode on themself.

“Girl there you go again with your stupid fucking bullshit. I don’t wanna like talk about it!....Not ‘cause anything happened but ‘cause I hate you! You don’t- we don’t- we’re not friends! Why are you just like forcing yourself in on my private life! It’s like- it’s like fucking stalking!”

Logan reached out his hand to comfort them but quickly stopped himself “I am sorry. I don’t know how to best formulate this but I sincerely don’t mean to upset you like, neither do I know how to not upset you. All I know is that I want you to be okay and that if my partner treated me like yours seem to do I wouldn’t be able to stay”

Remy’s hair fell in front of their face as they leant their head in their plams “You don’t get it” They muttered.

“I am sure I don-”

“IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY! It’s not like I have any savings an-and I’m not able to keep a job and without Virgil I have no way to buy medicine and- Like do you just want me to walk out and become homeless and like starve to death? Is that it? Like even if I wanted to leave, which I don’t, It’s not like I have a choice!”

A quiet sniffle came from them. Logan gave them a moment to gather their breathe.

“I...I didn’t mean to make it sound like leaving was easy” Logan murmured “I understand that you have probably been forced to think like you have no choice but to stay. I am aware of how crippling manipulation like that can be”

He leaned closer and even though they didn’t look at him he still sent them his most caring look as he continued.

“But I promise you that there are other options. You aren’t stuck. I am willing to let you stay at my apartment for however long you need and if you aren’t comfortable with that I am sure Janus or Remus would let you stay as well. I can even pay for a motel if that would be better. Depending on what part of your disability is making you unable to work I am sure that could be fixed. For example a wheelchair could help! My point is that you do have a choice, even if it’s very understandably hard to think that”

Remy’s shoulders were shaking. Logan gently placed his hand on top of their bony shoulder. Every vein was visible through their light skin.

At just the hint of his touch they flinched away. They stumbled up from the bench and took a few steps away. They looked at him with reddened eyes.

“No. No. Girl you- you just don’t get it! That’s all!” They spat out, their voice was shaky as well “You haven’t like lived with me. Once you or Remus o-or anyone spends enough time with me you’ll realize what an annoying overemotional burden I am! An-and then I’ll get thrown out! Okay!? So-so it’s not really- I don’t actually have a choice ‘cause I’ll just get thrown out. Virgil is the only who will ever bother to deal with me for this long! ‘cause he loves me! And no one else will love me like he does. S-so just shut up!”

Logan stood up as well and took an unsure step towards them. They looked so weak, as if a single push from the wind would make them crumble.

“It’s okay. I hear what you are saying” Logan assured.

“An-and it’s like- Virgil needs me! And I need him! That’s like how it works! I can’t just leave him! What if- who will calm him down from his panic attacks?! And if I leave what if he gets s-so upset and like anxious he hurts himself! He’s said there was a chance he would!! I can’t risk it! I have to stay! He needs me! I-I need- I can’t- I can’t leave”

Logan nodded along “It’s okay. I understand. I understand”

“You don’t! You’re a idiotic bitch! I hope all your stupid fucking ties get destroyed in the washer!” Remy was close to yelling.

“Harsh but I see your point. To be honest everything you have said has made me even more worried. From my experience a relationship shouldn’t make you feel this way! It shouldn’t make you come up with reasons to stay! It shouldn’t hurt you!” Logan reached out to comfort them once more. “I promise it shouldn’t hurt”

“It’s not hurting me! YOU are hurting me!”

Logan was taken aback. He didn’t know what to say. His arms moved to hang helplessly along his sides. Remy opened their mouth to say something more but then

“Hey uh what��s going on? Are you roleplaying a death match?” Remus stood in the entrance to the building. He glanced between the two of them.

“This idiot is trying to destroy my relationship!” Remy exclaimed.

“While it is not my place to explain the full situation without their permission I can assure you that I am merely worrying for their mental and physical health and I am unsure if their relationship is good for them from what I’ve heard” Logan explained.

Remus barely even hesitated before moving in front of Remy. He moved his arms out and let them lean against him to catch their breathe, like he was a human shield protecting them from Logan.

Logan hadn’t seen Remus angry before and he didn’t look fully enraged, but there was a hint of anger in eyes as he sneered at him.

“Well I’m sorry Loganson but not every relationship is totally perfect and works without any arguments like you and your wife relationship apparently does!” He spat out.

“I can assure you that me and my wife’s relationship hasn’t been argument free but that doesn’t mean I have ever even thought about insulting her like Remy’s boyfriend seemingly ha-”

“You’re not Remy!” Remus snapped “You’re a guy who dresses like a 40 year old math teacher who is losing the children in the divorce! Leave them alone!”

Remy was bordering on cowering behind Remus. Their whole body seemed to shake as a few tears spilled down their cheeks. They met Logan’s eyes.

“If the bullshit you’re saying is true, which it like isn’t but if it was that- that means I’ve spent my whole life being abused” They forced out through tears “How can you Ever you expect me to live with that?”

Logan didn’t have an answer to that. He watched on as Remus placed his hands on Remy’s shoulders and gently guided them to turn away. He bonked their foreheads together and wiped their tears away.

“C’mon beanie-boo I can take you to the amusement park to cheer you up! Or we can find some lsd and get high so you can hallucinate beating the shit out of the stinky Log guy!” Remus exclaimed as they walked away.

A headache began to form in Logan’s head as he slumped back down on the bench. He stared out at the nearly empty parking lot. He didn’t understand what he did wrong.

He wished he could talk to Virgil. He wished he could see him eye to eye and chew him out for ever making Remy feel like a burden, for ever making them feel trapped. A part of him wanted to punch him.

He was so zoned out into the overthinking he didn’t realize how much time was passing until Janus got out from his therapy session. As soon as Jan saw his boyfriend he let up into a shining smile and hurried over to him.

“Hi dear! Aww did you miss me so much you had to come pick me up! How charming!” Janus hesitated before kissing Logan on the lips. It still made him all giggly.

Normally seeing him so giddy would have made Logan overabundant with happiness....but now all he could think about was if he should tell Janus about Remy’s situation or not. They were friends right? Could it help? Would they listen to their friend?

Logan’s head hurt so bad. None of it made sense. There was no logical answer. How Janus reacted could make everything worse. He didn’t want to ruin everything more than he already had.

“Darling? Are you feeling alright? Has something happened?” Janus asked while taking his hand.

“I....I....” Logan looked over to you.

Logan: “I am so sorry to do this but do you have any idea what to do? The human emotion and it’s reactions are so illogical I don’t- I don’t understand- I don’t know what to do. I’m sorry- Should I tell Janus about the suspected abuse or should I lie?”

#mini fic #or like a really long answer #logan sanders #remy sanders #sanders sides

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officialleehadan · 3 years

Text

Third Side Saving

Hello darlings! What a stormy day I'm having. The wind has been snarling across the roof all day!

Today's story was brought to you by Clown! Darling, I hope it's everything you were hoping for! There will definitely be more of this!

Prompt: Higher Being Housemates, with the making and signing of a Contract.

+++

“Do you have a minute? I’ve discovered a rather complicated situation.”

Tracy looked up from her desk to discover Davi lingering in the doorway. The angel was one of the quieter members of their household. Oh, he was around, and if he was around, Mara usually was too because the lovebirds were never far from each other. Today, however, this lovebird was flying solo.

“I would make time for you even if I didn’t have a minute,” she promised him. Her finals were done at last, and now it was the yearly registration song and dance. That, however, was not as time sensitive and could be put aside. “What can I do for you, Birdie?”

“It’s about a human,” he told her and tentatively sat at the table across from her. “The discussion the other night, regarding Contracts, gave me an idea and I want to discuss it with you.”

“Go for it,” Tracy said encouragingly and went for the ever-full coffee pot that she was reasonably sure had been Miracled to always stay hot and perfect. Then again, it could easily be the Cats and their habit of mobbing anything she thought was important to keep her life going smoothly. “Might not be able to answer, but I’ll do my best.”

“The human in question is a friend,” Davi explained as Tracy made her coffee and doctored it from their truly extensive collection of flavorings. “If angels can be considered such with humans. I met him not long after I came to Earth.”

“Got it. So what do you need me for?”

“I don’t, precisely. I need Blake, but he says he needs your permission first,” Davi told her. He fiddled with a pen and steeled himself long enough to meet her eyes. “My friend, his name is Jonas, he’s in a bad position. His wife died two years ago, and his daughter is dying of the same genetic disease. He’s been bankrupted by the health system, and he’s going to lose his job because of the time he has to spend at the hospital.”

“Sounds like time for some Angelic Interference.”

“The Host… we have limitations,” Davi explained to her, suddenly tired and very sad all at once. The weight of his work as a minor Guardian bore down on him. Tracy didn’t need to ask to know that he remembered every soul he tried and failed to save. “I don’t have the power, or the permission, to help him the way he needs. I can’t do anything that big, but…”

“But a Contract with a greater demon could,” Tracy realized abruptly as the pieces came together in her mind. “Blake is limited only by his power and my permission. If your friend signs a Contract, we can make sure he has everything he needs.”

“Yes.”

It was an odd shade of simple and brilliant. One that Tracy had never considered before. Of course. Of course the angels had limits. She knew that from Angelika, after all. She would have done far more for her homeless shelter if she could have. Davi was of the Least Order as Angelika had been. His hands were tied to help people the way they needed helping.

But Tracy, with seventeen demons, didn’t answer to anyone.

“Blake, I need you,” she said with a gentle tug on the place where her first, dearest demon was bound to her heart. “Davi, get your friend. Is he already in the know?”

“He caught me molting before I met Mara,” Davi said, somewhat embarrassed. “Like Angelika, I was living in shared housing. I… may have gotten entirely tangled in the shower curtain and ripped it off the wall.”

“Awesome. That cuts down on explanations. Does he trust you enough to take a Contract with a demon?”

“We’re doing Contracts now?”

Blake swept into the room, as dramatic as the Cats and shrouded in his gorgeous magpie wings. Tracy accepted a kiss on the head when he went past her, hunting for the coffee.

“Davi has a friend that Heaven can’t help,” Tracy explained with a nod to Davi, who stepped out onto the balcony and vanished into the sky in a rush of white feathers. “I seem to remember you and Mara getting spectacularlydrunk and redoing the demonic boilerplate Contract to play nice with our household rules. You still have it?”

“Less whatever we’re giving and what we’re taking in return,” Blake said with a baffled shrug. “Wouldn’t be hard to update. Not like either of us are new to taking Contracts.”

Tracy nodded decisively, a plan forming in her head. One that made her smile with genuine, smug pleasure. “Grab it, will you? Davi is getting his friend, and I get the feeling that sooner is better than later with this one.”

Blake gave her a confused wing-shrug, and held out his hand. There was a puff of fire that Tracy thought was mostly for the drama of it, and a scroll appeared in his palm. She took it and read over the tiny, user-hostile font. It wasn’t her first time seeing a Contract. Blake had showed her one long ago, back when they were first figuring out how to make a family of one angel, one demon, and a human. From what she could see, the Contract was as generous as it could possibly be.

“That’s the ‘good person’ Contract,” Blake told her with a sly little grin. “We have a different one for people who need some consequences in a hurry.”

“Perfect. We’ll see what this guy actually needs, but I think we may have found our niche,” Tracy told him and handed the Contract back. It would take some work to figure out all the details, but that was manageable. A rustle of wings announced Davi’s return, this time with a human in tow. Jonas, she presumed. He was a good-looking guy, who was only a little older than her. He was in a rumpled suit that looked about a size too big. Either he had no idea how to buy a suit, or more likely, he had lost a lot of wight recently. Stress, she would bet. “HI there. I’m Tracy.”

“You, uh, nice to meet you,” Jonas said, wind-shaken and uncertain. No surprise there, considering he had an angel at his back, and a demon before him. “Davi… Davi says you might be able to help me?”

“I think maybe we can,” Tracy said, and ushered him to the table. “So, let’s figure out what you need, and we’ll see what we can do. After all, if the Third Side can’t help you, who can?”

+++

Higher Being Housemates:

As it turns out, rent is really high in Heaven. It’s not great in Hell either. An angel and a demon come to an agreement that works for them both.

Their human housemate still hasn’t decided whether or not to help them, or kick them all out of her house. After all, Grad school is hard enough without the Great War making it worse.

Bright Red Panties

Black and White Feathers

Demonic Comfort

Demonic Intervention

Unwanted Attention

Magpie Wings

Don’t Fall

Sparklers and Demon Smiles

Holy Words

Holy Tea

Santa Baby

Pledge Promise

Unholy Fuss (Free on Patreon)

Tuxedo Cat (Subscribers Only!)

Shadow Puff (Subscriber Only!)

If This Then That

A Third Side (Subscriber Only)

Sharp Edges

Red Letters

Stand Together (Subscriber Only!)

Fuzzy Interlude

The Fun Side (Subscriber Only!)

Feathers and Tea

Making Christmas

Santa Satan

All the Pillows

Grey and Red (Subscriber Only!)

Low Tide (Free on Patreon)

From the Heavens (Subscriber Only!)

Silver Shine

Five out of Six Ends are Pointy

Cinnamon Kisses (Free on Patreon!)

Thanks and Giving (Free on Patreon!)

Hounds of Hell (Free on Patreon!)

Potential Alliance (Free on Patreon!)

Wing Blade Runner

Third Side Saving

+++

#writer #writing #write #nanowrimo #writers #writing prompts #writing resources #writblr #angel #angels #demon #demons #demon contract #grandmaster of demonic arts #Lee Hadan Add to Masterlist

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anythingbutmar · 4 years

Text

Mistake

Diego Hargreeves x reader

Summary: After you turned 18, Diego and you pretty much distanced from the other members of the academy, so when you all meet for Reginald’s funeral you have some explaining to do.

A/N: I kinda love this concept but I changed a few details of this request so the reader is not raised as a sibling and her relationship with the others is in no way familial. I missed writing, specially for Diego, so thanks anon! This is quite long too, so sorry about that. I had a lot of fun too, so let me know if you’d like me to make this into a series, cause I might do it.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of homelessness, but overall just fluff and a bit of angst.

You liked to say that the life you made by yourself happened because of a simple mistake, because you had come across the Umbrella Academy on a very particular way.

You could say you had a decent upbringing, your mother wasn’t abusive but she was pretty much the definition of overprotective, and as a child you were never told that it was because a man had literally tried to buy you on the day you were born, in fact, you didn’t know anything about him or the children he managed to adopt because your mother and grandparents wouldn’t let you get anywhere near any piece of information of whatever existed outside your little hometown.

They told you they were doing it because your father had left you when you were just a baby and they wanted to protect you from the dangers of foreign men, of course you thought that you were born from a normal pregnancy, and you believed everything, that and the fact that you could control any element to your will, which they said was wrong and kept hidden. You were homeschooled, and you could only socialize with the kids from your neighborhood which was good, but it wasn’t enough, and we all now overprotectiveness can really mess with someone’s mind.

And so, even though you went along with it for many years, when one of your only friends suggested you both snuck out for a party on the big city for your sixteenth birthday you couldn’t say no, and that was the mistake, if it is possible to call it like that.

On the best Rapunzel style you went out your bedroom window, got on a bus and drank so much alcohol you completely passed out on a strangers lap and woke up on an unknown bed with a beautiful woman smiling down at you. Well, maybe that wasn’t Rapunzel’s style, but it sure felt like it at first.

The next series of events happened so fast it almost felt like a dream. You met a handful of strange children, one of which you later remembered had brought you there while being just as drunk as you were, his name was Klaus, and he later became the best friend you ever had; then you had the most overwhelming conversation of your life, in which an incredibly mean old man explained how you were actually born and made you understand just how different and important you were, but not in the wholesome way.

About an hour later your mother stormed through the academy looking for you, but one of the girls whispered something in her ear on her dad’s command which changed your mom’s entire attitude, with her allowing you to stay as if it was a boarding school, or so she told you, but she only visited once every few months and she didn’t seem as caring as before. According to Allison, that was in no way her fault, and you believed her, because at the end of the day you trusted your newfound friends much more than the woman that lied to you your entire life.

And so, you learnt to control your ability like never before, while also enduring Reginald’s cruel treatment, but it didn’t matter at all, because in the midst of everything you found Diego, and with him came all the things you never experienced before. He brought you happiness, love, trust and overall, lust for life.

Two years later you were living your best teenage secret romance. You snuck out at nights to visit all the parts from the city that he wanted you to meet, and you shared tiny kisses whenever Reginald and the kids weren’t watching. But Diego left, just like he had planned since he was a kid, and you weren’t brave enough to follow him. It wasn’t until his other siblings started leaving too that you realized that no matter how hard it was to be outside on your own, holding on to life with him was better than anything else. It was actually thanks to Allison, the smart girl had noticed you two holding hands under the table and knew just how heartbroken you were without him. “Chase him, Y/N, you won’t have this opportunity ever again.” She said right before she left, and she was absolutely right.

It took you less than a week to find him on a motel, bruised as ever and with barely enough money to pay for another night, and in between hugs, kisses and forbidden touches you promised him that you’d both get out of there. He told you he had been on that place for three weeks and a half, but the first few days after leaving the academy he had to sleep on a park bench until he gathered enough money by playing with his knifes to amuse people on the street. It had been hard, but now that you were together everything was so much better.

After many years living in the back room of a rusty gym, both of you taking turns in wiping it’s floors while also trying to study and save people at nights, because the one thing you learned from Reginald was that you loved helping people, and Diego’s vigilantism was just as appealing to you as it was to him. Diego was accepted into the police force and you finished your studies on a cheap school, which allowed you both to get a job you liked, and when you were finally able to buy a house for yourselves Diego proposed.

“Y/N, before you arrived my life was a nightmare, and all I ever wanted was to stay as far away from that place as it was possible, and everything that reminded me of it I planned on cutting from my life, but you arrived with your sweet smile, your shy eyes and those damn legs, and you completely switched my view of the world because I knew right there that I would love you forever, and I do. I love to see you in your weird ass robe, making potions-”

“I’m a chemist babe, not a witch.” You corrected him laughing.

“Let me finish Y/N!” He laughed with you. “I love how you treated me and my siblings, and I love how you helped mom, and god! I love how you used to beat bad guys with fucking wind on our nights out! I love everything about you sweetheart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” By then you were both crying, and of course you said yes, how could you not?

Cut to ten years later and the day you had silently both dreaded and hoped for came. Reginald Hargreeves was dead, and you couldn’t even tell if you were sad about it, after all, the man had saved you from Mother Gothel, as Diego and you started calling her after watching Tangled with your daughters, but he saved you at what cost? You now had quite a few burn scars in your body from his dangerous training, you loved each one of them because they reminded you just how powerful you were, but still, no teenager should have to go through that.

And you couldn’t even get started on Diego. You wondered how and when he would take the news. He was out on his monthly vigilante night, which was kind of a gift you gave to each other, you were allowed to leave for the night once every month on different days because now that you had kids you could no longer risk your life everyday like you used to before. The kids, oh boy, what were you gonna do with your beloved girls? You weren’t sure if taking them to the funeral with you was the right decision, you wanted to shelter them from death and all the evil things in the world, but then again, you weren’t your mother, and you had no one to leave them with.

Just as you were thinking about maybe even staying, your husband entered your home, and he looked destroyed. It was one in the morning and you had been waiting for him while thinking of Reginald, and clearly he had been thinking about the same thing. You quickly stood up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“He’s d-dead.” He stuttered on your shoulder. He didn’t even sound sad, he just seemed shocked.

“Shh, I know baby, I know.” You stood there for a while, just comforting each other in the middle of your kitchen before going to bed, you needed to rest for the next day because you knew it would be anything but ordinary.

And in the blink of an eye you were ringing the bell of the academy, each of your girls holding their father’s hand, the three of them standing behind you in your small, useless effort to protect them.

Grace opened up, and you couldn’t be happier to see her. You gave her a small hug and then gave Diego some space so he could properly say hi to his beloved mother. He introduced Luna and Amber and she was delighted to see Diego in a stable, loving family, she just seemed a bit off, but you’d talk to Diego about that later.

And then... Lord help you, you entered the livingroom and ran headfirst into Klaus who instantly hugged you, twirling you around and making you laugh as you both landed on the floor.

“Y/N, love! How have you been?” He sat up, looking at the doorframe, as he seemed to notice the two pair of eyes that stared in curiosity. “Oh I see you’ve gotten busy! Hello my little munchkins, I’m your uncle Klaus!”

“Wait Y/N/N, you’re with Diego now?” Luther asked from the other side of the room. Despite his rivalry with your now husband, you were quite close to him during your small time on the academy.

“Honestly Luther, I love you, but you can be quite oblivious sometimes.” You stood up with his help and hugged him tightly, getting a comforting feeling from his embrace.

“I’m here too, you know, your brother, Diego?” He finally entered, still holding your daughters’s hands and analizing the scene.

“It’s not our fault that you can’t say hi to anybody.” Allison came from behind him, scaring him, which made the girls laughing.

“Hi Allison.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes at his sister.

“I always knew you liked keeping your secrets but this two are way too big to hide” Se kneeled down to pinch Luna’s cheek, who smiled bashfully at her aunt.

Amber, your youngest, ran towards you and pulled your hand. You kneeled to her height as she whispered in your ear. “Mommy, I want to meet uncle Spaceboy.” You smiled softly at her sweetness, carrying her towards him. She instantly jumped in his arms, which took both Luther and you by surprise, she wasn’t the most sociable girl after all, but you kinda understood, his big frame and natural akwardness made him look quite huggable.

“Damn bro, you’ve gotten big.” Diego joined you, leaving Allison to play with Luna, who was now excited to know that she had a cousin her age, and you left before the two started bickering, but much to your surprise, the presence of your daughter seemed to retain them from fighting like they used to. Maybe bringing them was a good idea after all.

“Well, this is is quite the frame” Pogo entered the room with Vanya right behind him. You all waved at them, tired already of all the hugs already.

“Hi everyone.” Vanya entered uncomfortably, allowing Allison to hug her and having a small talk.

You turned to Diego and looked at him, a warning in your eyes. You knew your husband all to well, and you could see how much the book had hurted him, but you weren’t going to let him start a fight in the middle of a family meeting.

But of course, he wouldn’t listen to you.

“Why did you do it?” He started walking towards her as you mentally facepalmed. This wasn’t going to end well.

“Really, Diego? This isn’t the right time.” Allison scolded him, standing between him and her only sister.

“Then when is it, Allison? The next time we see each other? Should we wait another twelve years?” Allison just scoffed and stormed out of the room, Luther following after her, Vanya left silently, looking hurt, and Klaus snuck out in the heat of the moment, probably looking for money.

You sat on the biggest couch in the middle of your daughters, surrounding them with your arms. “That went well.” You stared at Diego, who pocked his tongue at you.

And it was about to get worse.

After having a tiny dance party, thanks to Luther’s incredibly loud turntable, you heard a thunderlike sound and watched as a bright blue light appeared outside. You looked at Diego, knowing what to do from all the years of practice that you had together. Each of you grabbed one of the kids, running outside to meet the others, who surrounded you in a protective manner, protecting their newly met nieces.

There was a portal in front of you, which Klaus tried to close with a fire extinguisher, but you could tell it wouldn’t work, because that wasn’t made of fire, or any other element that you were familiar with, for that matter, and you were an element bending chemist, for christ’s sake.

“What the hell is that babe?” Diego yelled, trying to understand.

“I have no idea, but there’s something coming out of it!” You yelled back, and everyone turned to look at what appeared to be an old man coming out of the portal. And in a flash of blue, a small boy landed at your feet, he looked incredibly similar to the portrait of the lost sibling that hung on top of the fireplace.

“Does anyone else see little number five?” They all nodded at Klaus, who clearly wasn’t sober enough for this, or maybe the poor thing thought that was the ghost of him, and you knew he already had enough with one dead brother following him around.

“What on earth is wrong with this family?” You said, looking at the odd teenager.

Minutes passed as you all stared at Five, who was preparing a goddamned sandwich, in the middle of one of the most confusing moments of your life.

“You’re new.” He simply stated, looking at you.

“Umm yeah, we haven’t had the chance to meet before, I’m Y/N.” You extended your hand, which he didn’t take, the tiny bastard.

“Oh we’ve met. You were the one with the girls, holding his hand.” He pointed at Diego, sandwich in hand.

“I don’t understand, you weren-”

“Look kid, I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you, you need to leave.” Diego was ready to jump at him, but Luther stopped him and you grabbed his arm softly.

“It’s ok honey, I get it.” You whispered and left to look for Grace who was taking care of the girls.

You let out a sigh as you walked by your old room. You had been wanting to scream ever since you got there, but this was your first alone moment in the whole day, and a sigh was just as effective as a scream, it helped.

Then came the funeral, and it was hard. Luther scattered the ashes and you manipulated the wind so they wouldn’t look like a pile of grey shit, which actually, was an accurate depiction of Reginald, but you did it for him and Pogo, it was the right thing to do.

And after a few out of place comments, Diego and Luther started fighting right in front of your daughters, so much for the agreement. Luna and Amber started crying, hiding behind Five, who, much to your surprise, covered them with his body as he slowly took them inside. It was infuriating to see the men fighting in front of you, but you couldn’t help but smile looking at Five.

It was that moment that truly made you feel home, like you really were in family, and it warmed your heart.

-End of maybe part one?-

#i wasn't expecting to go this far #but i did #and i don't regret it #diego hargreeves imagines #diego hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves fluff #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfiction #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy imagine

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woman-of-culture · 4 years

Text

The traitor (1/2)

Dabi x reader

Part 2

Warnings: Dabis identity, 3rd year age up, this does not accurately follow the plot when it comes to timing and character introduction, (most likely) a lot of grammatical errors

This is gonna be a 2 part story with the smut in the 2nd part! (Not to mention it’s gonna be much longer)

The semester is finally over! No more assignments and no more work so I present to you my first ever fanfiction. Hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Words: 3,056

The League of villains might not have the best plans. Sometimes, they're poorly thought out, other times... Again, not all that effective.

From their poor managing skills to the attack on USJ where they consequentially lost the perfect nomu, their planning could use ‘some’ work. The leader, Shigaraki, being quite immature for his position, executed his plans prematurely and without much thought - oftentimes underestimating his opponents (even if they were just high school first years). Saying he has a ways to go from being the perfect leader would be an understatement.

But no matter how much you complain, you can’t ignore the fact that he’s also a valiant leader who fights for what he thinks is right, even if he does need some help along the way. That’s where you come in, being Shigarakis right hand (wo)man, alongside Kurogiri, wasn’t an easy job. Having to deal with his temper tantrums, being forced to execute a plan you didn’t 100% agree with and having your advice ignored completely most of the time wasn’t exactly what you thought joining The League of Villains would be like, but eh, nothing ever goes the way you want it to.

Which is exactly what led to this situation.

"So let me get this straight..." You say, whilst letting out an exasperated sigh "You want to kidnap and persuade, of all people, Bakugou Katsuki to turn on his dream of becoming a hero just because you've seen him compete in the sports festival?"

Not really getting your point, Shigaraki just nods with an assertive "Yes"

"No" You turn your back on him, disappointed he would even suggest this thought.

Narrowing his eyes, as if to challenge any further refusal on your part, he demands to know why you so vehemently refuse the suggestion of your next big mission.

Not at all wavering with your determination, you look him in the eyes, practically begging for him to understand how fruitless this endeavor would be.

"He might act...villainous when facing certain confrontation but he is solely focused on becoming the number one pro hero one day, it would take a hell of a lot more than just kidnapping and talking for him to turn his back on that dream. He’s determined, passionate and has a real fighting spirit. I believe if you really want him to join you need to break his spirit in some way, target him when he’s at his lowest"

Contemplating your words for merely a second he decided against listening to reason on the ground ‘It’s the perfect next move for the League to cause distrust among society, even if he refuses there will be chaos from the fact that we managed to capture a UA student whilst on a training camp.’”

Seeing no point in arguing further, you declare that you will have no part in this plan since:

1) You truly believe this will end up a failure

2) You are a student participating in the training camp and your involvement would be too risky

"Goddamn it, I knew I shouldn't have told you where the training camp will be held..." You mutter under your breath, as you look to Kurogiri, who has been silent during that whole argument, to open a portal to your apartment.

Exhausted and in need of some food, you trudge your way up to the small apartment you've called home ever since AFO took you in 4 years ago.

It was a small one bedroom apartment fit for one person, certainly better than the streets you've come to know so well during your years of desperation and homelessness.

A sigh of relief escaping once you managed to close your door and take off your shoes.

"Good evening doll."

"Good evening burnt rat, who I specifically warned not to come here anymore."

He winced, as if the comment actually hurt his feelings. "Ouch, why the sour attitude sweetheart?" Walking up to the couch, glaring at your ‘guest’ who had decided to make himself at home despite your warnings of dumping his body in the nearest ditch.

“You tell me Dabi, why in the world would you continue coming here after all my threats and the fact UA is 5 minutes from here?” “Isn’t it obvious? Despite your constant nagging, you never kick me out, you have a pretty fucking nice TV and not to mention you’re a decent cook.”

Ah, Dabi...one of the newest members of the League who joined not even 2 weeks ago. He’s a peculiar guy who comes to raid your fridge and annoy the shit out of you every other day, refusing to leave until the next morning to go God knows where. When it comes to the topic of kicking him out...you never seem to find the will to do so, whether it be the crippling loneliness forcing you to get some form of social interaction or the fact you find his company kinda enjoyable. Of course, you wouldn’t admit either to anyone even if it costs you your life.

You look at his form lounging on the couch in his pants and pale gray, scoop-neck shirt. “So, I’m guessing you ate my dinner again...?” You picked up his dark blue jacket that was lazily tossed onto the back of the sofa and made your way to the front door in order to hang it, just then noticing the dark dress shoes placed haphazardly next to the shoe rack.

With a sly wink sent your way he confirms he ate the tempura you prepared that afternoon. “But you know what? Could you be a sweetheart and make some more food? It was just so delicious but unfortunately not all that filling.” He asked, hoping flattery will get him some more food.

Looking into the fridge you could physically feel a headache coming when you confirm no tempura in sight. You would feel more frustrated if a brilliant idea didn’t come up that second. “Listen Dabi, let’s make a deal.” You turn the corner, ready to give him an ultimatum. “Oh? Where is this going? In exchange for some of your cooking I’d eat something else out first?” He tries to guess, suggestively lifting one eyebrow whilst crossing his arms at the back of his head.

Stopping in your tracks, you look at him speechless, the blood rushing to your cheeks undeniably creating a faint pink blush.”W-what!? No, you asshole! T-tomorrow are final exams so I wanted to suggest you spar with me and after I’d cook anything you want.” In what little time you knew Dabi, that was the first suggestive comment he has made towards you, breaking your thoughts for a hot second - enough to make you stutter during your protest.

Looking proud with the pink he managed to conjure on your cheeks, he closed his eyes with a smirk on his mismatched, pale-burnt lips. “Don’t know ‘bout that doll, sounds like too much work and I’ve had a long day.” He groans to emphasize his point.

“Ok then, starve”

...

“Well, actually-...”

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

The next day, during the practical exam, you ended up with Jirou against Present Mic (I’m sorry Koji but plot) which you managed to win with ease considering Dabi helped you strategize. Not to mention he gave you tips on how to improve your quirk which you implemented in the battle only to end up victorious. You’d probably need to thank him later.

Whilst reminiscing on the event, Aizawa enters into the classroom informing that no one will be left out of the training camp, but the ones who failed will receive harsher training. He gave out lodge guides and all the information needed (which you of course knew thanks to sneaking into the teachers lounge after hours) Everyone also decided to go on a shopping trip to buy the necessary things for the trip, with the exceptions of you, Bakugou and Todoroki.

Worrying about the events that will transpire did you no good so you contently walked home thinking of going to the store for some ingredients in case a certain uninvited guest decided to show up again.

Thinking about what will inevitably happen reminded you of the fact you haven’t visited the bar since your little disagreement with Shigaraki. ‘I guess I can’t blame him, even if Bakugou doesn’t join it will still provoke some fear and distrust among the general public, I guess I should apologize to him...’

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

“TOMURA!” The bar rattles with the impact of the door against the wall, barely keeping itself on it’s hinges after the kind of force you used. The people inside the bar looking at you with mixed emotions, some shocked, some indifferent and some enjoying the drama. Spinner, Toga, Dabi, Magne and Kurogiri silently looking at you for answers to their unanswered questions while Shigaraki looks at you completely shocked for he has not yet seen such an outburst from you.

“Wasn’t this supposed to be your plan? How careless can you be? In order for a stunt like this to succeed you’d need to be extra careful and methodical. Yet, what do you do? You confront Midoriya at the mall as if it wouldn’t have consequences”

“Oh, that’s all?” He returns to his planning as if you didn’t almost break down the door.

“What do you mean ‘that’s all’? Do you understand how irresponsible that was, you could have gotten caught! The whole mall was swarming with police officers literally 5 minutes after your little ‘chat’.”

“They wouldn’t have caught me even if they showed up that instant, if you used your brain you would remember that Kurogiri could just teleport me out.” Scratching his neck, clearly done with this conversation, he turned to walk away to get some quiet to finalize the plan in peace.

“You don’t get it do you? Aizawa announced the camp will not be held in the forest lodge it’s usually held every year because of this ‘incident’.” You explain taking a step to his form that stopped walking the moment those words left your lips. He turned, the scratching getting more violent by the second. “Well, where is it then?”

You don’t want to admit it but the way he looked at you, as if it was your fault the camp relocated, sent a chill down your spine. “I don’t know, the new location won’t be revealed until we get there.”

“Then you’ll send your location the moment you get there, is that so hard?” You felt your anger and frustration bubble the moment he dismissed the problem as if it were nothing, however you continued your calm-ish facade. “Tomura, I’m begging you to understand! With this there are a lot more unknown variables. You won’t have time to prepare, to get to know the layout, the schedule, anything! You’ll be going in there blind, this is definitely not a safe plan for the members. What if some of them get caught? What if-...”

You weren’t even able to finish the rest of your concern before he yelled out for you to shut up, that it was none of your concern since you weren’t apart of this mission. “We will simply have Dabi burn down half of the woods so they won’t know what’s going on, the rest only concerns the participants of this plan which, again, you are NOT, now LEAVE!”

You looked Tomura in the eyes, tears welling up in yours due to the sheer frustration of the situation. Did your opinion really mean so little to the man? You wanted nothing more than the success of the League, to fulfill your debt to AFO for saving you so many years ago. Sometimes staying up past 3 AM helping with whatever you could just because you felt as if the League really needed you. Were you really so useless to the man before you, who you would consider a dear friend, family? He ignored your advice, existence even, except when he needed insider information. You were quiet most of the time, rarely giving resistance to the point your bottled up feeling reached their limits. You lifted your head, a single tear making its way down your face as you uttered your next words.

“I will send you the location, I will figure out the schedule, I will inform you on everyone's position during the attack but just know this Tomura, your carelessness will shoot you down from that pedestal you made for yourself. You’re childish, immature, naive and juvenile. If you continue thinking you can do all of this alone it’s gonna cost you your life, the members lives, masters life-...”

That was the trigger...the last straw that finally diminished his last nerve. Lunging at you with all five fingers ready to disintegrate your arm as a form of cruel punishment. It was like slow motion, not really thinking of this outcome proved to be your downfall as you could only watch his hand getting closer.

20 centimeters...

10 centimeters...

5....

Oh fuck...

As if God heard your prayers, an arm found it’s way around your waist, pulling you to a lean, muscular chest while the other grabbed Shigarakis, pulling it away from your form and pressing his hand, that was moments away from your trembling arm, onto the counter, decaying a part of the wood until there was nothing but dust left.

The shock of the situation being felt all around the room. You didn’t fully process the severity of the event until Dabi let out a low growl, ready to use his quirk if need be. Looking up his face, situated not even 5 cm away from your own, you saw the burning fire behind his glare directed at Shigaraki, a threat, daring him to move a single finger in your direction.

In any other situation you’d pull his arm off, threatening to cut it off. However, this wasn’t any other situation. His warmth providing a sense of security you’ve never felt before, making you wish it could stay there just a minute longer. His natural musk invading your senses, calming your pounding heart to the point you almost forgot the predicament you got yourself into.

All too soon, he let go of you only to pull you behind his back with his arm stretched to the side, blocking the view of your leader with his back. Relieved, angry, confused, terrified... You couldn’t exactly categorize your feelings, the information not fully processed in your mind. You grabbed onto the back of his jacket as a means to get closer to him, scrunching it between your fingers to keep him where he is.

Whilst this was going on, Shigaraki looked at his hand, eyes wide open. For a few seconds he couldn’t fathom what he just tried to do. He looked at your form, cowering behind Dabi who only glared daggers at him silently questioning his actions.

“Out.” was the only word able to come out of his throat, not knowing how to deal with the consequences of the previous moment.

Not needing to be told twice, you ran out of the bar as fast as your legs could take you. Stumbling on your own feet, chest heaving and vision blurry you didn’t notice the set of footsteps following behind you until a hand reached out stopping you in your tracks. You panicked, kicking at your assailant in an attempt to get free.

“Calm down, would ya? It’s only me...” Turning around, to face what you had correctly presumed to be Dabi, you lunged out of his grasp narrowly missing the wall behind you.

“Why did you do that?” “What do you mean why?” He looked at you, not understanding the point of the question. “I mean... Why did you jump in to defend me? This was between me and him. Don’t get me wrong I more than appreciate your help but why... You ran the risk of a fight, not to mention injury, just because i provoked him.” You said, your gaze following the trail of his body further down till you reached his black shoes.

He scoffed, as if you just uttered the stupidest sentence he has ever heard. “Provoked? What you did in there proved you have some serious balls. You pointed out the flaws in the plan and confronted hand-job about them. You prioritized every ones safety over some mission and even put yourself at risk by ultimately agreeing to the plan and sending vital information that will be used.” He took a step forward, lifting your head between his index and thumb caressing your cheek along the way to hopefully calm you some more if his words didn’t help.

“That being said, you should still have some faith in us, well, in me specifically.” He smirked noticing the corner of your lips twitch up at his comment. “I’ll burn down every obstacle, every hero that comes in my way so you won’t have to worry so much.” Finally, pressing his forehead to your own he managed to fully calm your nerves, unintentionally, you also synced up your breathing to match his.

You looked at his beautiful teal colored eyes unable to focus on any of your surroundings ‘Were his eyes always so mesmerizing?’ You felt your eyelids droop almost closing them by the time he took your hand in his and started to lead you down the road. “H-huh? Wait, where are we going?” “We’re going to your apartment to eat something and sleep, perhaps watch a movie to forget today.”

You look at the man in front of you, his coat waving with the wind to make the moment just that much more special. Has he always been like this? He actually made the effort to defend you, to run after you when you thought nobody cared. He assured you that what you did was the right thing and plans to make you forget what happened today. Did you finally have someone that cared for you?

“Yeah, sounds good”

(A/N This was my first ever attempt at writing so I hope I didn’t flunk it TOO bad. And I’m not all that satisfied with this but eh... I feel bad for having to cut it short, but I actually got requests to do more stories and I’m bad at multitasking so I’m terribly sorry for the precious users that sent me requests and the readers that want a part 2, maybe)

#dabi x reader #dabi #bnha #bnha dabi #mha #dabi x you #dabi x y/n

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trashcatsnark · 3 years

Note

Hard agree on you about CDPR's characterization of Johnny. It's not only that he doesn't show up as often as he should, and that his lines are a bit wonky sometimes (side gigs mostly), but they also kinda made him more of an asshole than he actually is? Like, they made Rogue say that he cheated on her. Three times. That is not in the actual lore. Why did they add that??? In the actual story they even share a sweet moment with him saying she's the best and calling her by her actual name.

Part 2 For Context: Another thing to add to my post, TTRPG Johnny also buys entire warehouses and converts them into living spaces for homeless artists and such. He does free concerts to expose NCPD brutality. The guy even felt bad in 2013, when he made the people rally against Arasaka bc he didn't want any of them to die. Like, he's a shit, but he's actually a very decent man too. I guess 2077 Johnny is just an engram and not the real one, but still, could've done better with his writing.

I'm trying to think carefully of how I wanna word this. Because I know when discussing problematic character behaviors, its a slippery slope at times. So, I wanna preface by saying, I am by no means justifying his actions by any means.

However, my issues with his characterization have less to do with me wanting him to be nicer and/or closer to his TTRPG counterpart. I'm not someone who was heavy into the TTRPG, I never played, I've just done some cursory research into it out of curiosity after playing the video game. Mostly out of curiousity of what still could or would fit into the video game. I've talked a bit of how I think the Silverhand Studio warehouses could fit as a project he tried when he was younger that failed. And I could easily see the police brutality awareness concerts still being something samurai did, cause Johnny in cyberpunk 2077 still cares about and is passionate about those issues; but he's a giant fucking asshole disaster who treats people like shit. At least thats how I see him.

And like, again, not justifying his actions but from a character and narrative standpoint. I like the decision to make him an asshole. Because to me, personally, his growth and redemption is the best part of the game. Like, obviously I love a lot of other things in the game and it has value beyond that. But to me his redemption and changing is so critical to the plot. That if he was just good guy johnny who is still good guy johnny by the end, it would take a lot away from the game to me. Which may or may not be fucked up that I prefer an asshole who becomes nicer than nice man who stays nice. But a journey is more interesting than a sit, ya know?

But my issues are generally; at times inconsistencies, consequences for his assholery, and just wish we saw more.

Ive talked somewhat about how he can be inconsistent in his development between main quests and side quests. He can be very erratic, which that also is probably just part of his character rather than an inconsistency. But those things can make it hard to understand him and can feel odd. But that also can just come from sidemissions being mostly nonlinear. In my ideal world where cdpr gave themselves more time; i would have liked if side quest/gig dialogue changed based on Johnny and V's relationship, the same way it does in the quests with kerry and in the endings/embers. Like if he do a gig with 0 affection, he may not show up or be a dick. But if you do that same gig with 70% he for sure shows and is more concerned for V. Like just that little level of consistency. Which i know it'd require more time and getting keanu back in the booth but, it'd have been nice.

Ive talked at length before about how I wish Johnny faced some more consequences for being a dickhead, so I wont bore anyone with more of that.

As far as the Rogue stuff you mentioned, that kind of goes into my issue of wishing we'd seen more. Cause V is suppose to have Johnny's memories lurking around their skull but we only see 2 memories??? Rogue says at the date: "lets go back in time before i knew what a bastard you were" there was a time when he was at least on some level decent. I refuse to believe he managed to convince Rogue and Alt to date him, being an asshole out the gate. There had to have been softer moments. But we the player dont get to see them. We only see the worst of Johnny in the past, despite supposedly having all his memories as V.

Like Johnny who cheated on Rogue and the Johnny who was soft with her and called her by her real name: very much can be the same guy and both having happened. Johnny getting attached and that scaring him so be does dumb shit and destroys everything. Johnny having genuine feelings but being unwilling to embrace them fully. Johnny giving breadcrumbs of affection to keep people around then snapping and doing something devastating when he worries they've gotten too close. Then regret it and give another breadcrumb of affection because he does feel that affection, he cares, but hes fucked in the head. Intentionally or not, stringing the people who care about him along. He's whiplash and a whirlwind. And that all makes sense and fits his in video game character to me, because hes meant to be a toxic asshole who really does care but has to get his shit together big time. But we dont see the nicer moments enough, we dont see what drew Rogue, Kerry, and Alt into his life. We dont see enough of those moments in my opinion. The closest is, when alt dies, if you choose the nice goodbye to kerry, and the way he tried to smooth things over with alt in the alley way before she was kidnapped, oh and the little hand hold. You get really brief moments but you mostly just see the assholery. It would have been nice to see how he met the people who mattered to him, seen more of his good, more of that charisma he claimed to have. In general, I would have liked more exploration of his character and his relationships

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #johnny silverhand

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spaceskam · 4 years

Text

what’s it gonna be? (3/3)

warning for implied childhood trauma & homelessness

previous |

ao3

It was awkward.

“So, uh… Yeah, Liz is cool. Smart. She talks a lot,” Max said, picking at a loose string on Isobel’s comforter. Michael was curled up on the bean bag again, his eyes on the floor. Could he tell that Max had accidentally fallen a little too hard for Liz?

“Alex is cool and smart too. Probably smart in a different way. He knows a lot about music. Um, he likes movies. Basically just art in general,” Michael answered, looking up at him, “He smokes, I don’t know if that’s a dealbreaker for you.”

Max shrugged, “As long as he doesn’t do it a lot.”

“He doesn’t,” Michael insisted, “Just sometimes.”

Max breathed in and nodded, eyes going to the ceiling as he tried to think of what else he wanted to say. He’d talked to Liz so much, but he didn’t really want to share. It felt like his information even though it wasn’t really private. It just felt special because it came from her.

“Liz wants to be a biological engineer when she gets older, kinda like you,” Max tried.

“Cool,” Michael said, “Kinda like how Alex is into artistic stuff like you.”

They both sort of stalled at. Max wondered if their plan had really failed that spectacularly. He’d fallen for Liz and apparently Michael had failed at learning anything about Alex. Max wasn’t really ready to give Liz up, but now he had to. They made a deal.

“So, uh, maybe we should just, like, all hang out at the Crashdown or something? That way we can sort of get a neutral setting. And Liz and Alex are friends, so it’ll work out,” Max suggested. Michael took a deep breath and nodded. He looked out of it. “Hey, man, you good?”

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, just didn’t sleep much last night,” Michael admitted, “Crashed on Old Man Sander’s couch and his dog kept jumping on me.”

“Well, you’re sleeping here tonight, so no dog,” Isobel said as she walked out of the bathroom that connected her room and Max’s. She was wearing a strapless white dress that was tighter on top, but flared out at the waist and went down to a few inches above her knees. “Are you guys done talking about boring stuff long enough to tell me I look good?”

Michael and Max both laughed at that. Max was thankful she came in and changed the subject. It was too awkward despite their previously agreed upon subject. At this point, once Michael got with Liz, Max wasn’t even sure he was going to go after Alex at all. Sure, he was hot, but Liz was everything.

“You look great, Iz,” Michael said first. Isobel smiled and looked at herself in the mirror hanging on her closet door.

“I know,” she breathed, twisting to look at herself, “But I don’t think this is the one.”

“Then change,” Max suggested. She again looked at herself before turning to face them.

“I’m gonna buy a new one,” she decided, looking between them, “Have you guys gone shopping yet?” Neither of them answered and she rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

They watched her strut back into the bathroom to change out of her dress and Max rolled his eyes. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to go to the dance anymore, not if he couldn’t go with Liz. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, could they?

He just had to figure out how to actually be a wingman now.

Michael waited a few houses down from Alex’s house, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he rested his head back.

Ever since he left the Evans residence that evening (he planned to return later to spend the night there, but he had to at least make it look like he left) he’d been trying to think of a good way to distance himself from Alex. It’d only been a week, but it was too easy to get obsessed with someone like him. He was really sad that he had to let go and let Max have him. Hell, he didn’t even know how to ask Alex to go hang out with them so they could do that. He just liked being with him alone.

The passenger side door quickly swung open and Alex climbed in, closing it behind him. He instantly got into Michael’s space, a smile on his face that only came out when the sun was down. In a way, Michael understood that and he smiled right back.

“I got you something,” Alex said softly. Michael furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? You shouldn’t have gotten me any‒”

“Shh, I got you something,” Alex said, scooting a little closer. Alex was sitting sideway, his left knee bent and resting on Michael’s lap so he could move closer. Michael waited patiently.

Alex reached into his bag and pulled out a small yellow flower, somehow unharmed by being in his bag. Michael’s heart swelled in adoration and his throat seemed to close with it, rendering him completely speechless. Alex just smiled and moved to tuck it behind his ear in lieu of the joint he tended to keep there. Once it was all settled, Alex gently grabbed his jaw and pressed the softest kiss to his cheek. Again, Michael didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t quite sure when they crossed from intense stares to flowers and cheek kisses, but the idea of going back made his chest ache.

“I got you something else too,” Alex told him, gently nudging his nose against Michael’s cheek before giving him another kiss there and pulling away. Michael swallowed hard as he watched Alex pull his bag onto his lap. It clanked with the sound of cans and, sure enough, Alex pulled out a bottle of spray paint. “Let’s go tag some shit.”

“Yeah, fuck it, let’s do it,” Michael said, voice a little hoarse. Alex grinned wildly and didn’t move an inch as Michael put the truck in drive.

Alex stayed close as they drove to the only parking lot downtown, his fingers carefully pulling at Michael’s curls and watching them bounce back. Michael couldn’t help but bounce the leg that wasn’t being used to press the pedals as excited energy pulsed through him. Alex had reached out to hold it down for a second, but all that did was make him bounce it even more once his hand let up. It made him laugh which just made it all better. Max who?

He pulled into the parking lot, a few miscellaneous cars still there for whatever reason. Shops had closed an hour ago, though, so it was pretty empty. As Michael shut off the engine, Alex pressed his finger into his chin to make him look at him. Michael did just that.

“You can run just in case, right?” he asked. Michael nodded and Alex smiled, leaning forward and kissing the tip of his nose. It took Michael a second to realize when he started getting out of the car.

Alex led the way as they walked down the empty street, acting normal as possible. There was a moment when Alex seemed to get comfortable, though, and he grabbed Michael’s hand. And then they were holding hands. Because they could.

“I like nighttime, it feels safe. Easier to hide if I need to,” Alex offered up. It was the first blatant statement he’d ever said about himself, one Michael didn’t have to read between the lines to get his meaning.

“Why would you need to hide?” Michael asked. Alex shrugged, squeezing his hand as he started to swing them a little.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, voice soft even for the still of the night, “Home sucks and I’m too big to fit in the cabinets anymore.”

“But you’ve got a home, right? That’s gotta count for something,” Michael said. He didn’t really have one of those, not a permanent one at least. Still, Alex shrugged.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”

“I’ll be here,” Michael promised. Alex smiled a little again, bringing their linked hands up to his mouth. He kissed Michael’s knuckles with his eyes closed, the whole thing more meaningful than he could actually comprehend. It was so safe. “I like hanging out with you like this.”

“Let’s keep it up then.”

Alex grabbed his hand a little tighter and pulled him down an alleyway between two shops. He let go when they got to the back of the alley, one two more hall-like paths perpendicular to the one they’d just walked down. Michael kept watch as Alex dropped his bag, digging out what he needed. A giant stencil, tape, and a can of spray paint.

Michael helped hold down the stencil as Alex put some tape on the corners, covering old tape. As he looked at it, though, he saw the very familiar symbol of a stereotypical alien head only it looked like it was melted and had star-shaped eyes and Alex used red paint.

“I’ve seen these around town,” Michael said softly. Alex smiled and put a hand on his chest, backing him away.

“They’re super simple, but it pisses off the locals,” Alex told him before pulling the collar over his shirt over his mouth and nose. Michael did the same and watched him shake the can before spraying it over the stencil.

“You’re a local,” Michael pointed out.

“Ouch, hit me where it hurts, why don’t you?” Alex scoffed, but there were those little crinkles by his eyes that showed he was still smiling. Michael rolled his eyes. “C’mere.”

Michael did as he said, taking over the spray paint and coloring in the stencil in the same way he’d seen Alex do it. Once it was filled in enough, Alex put the lid back on the paint and went to take off the stencil. They both took a step back to admire that admittedly simple but still exhilarating work.

It was only when they heard people laughing and saw the approaching sight of phone lights that Alex grabbed his arm and tugged him to the left. His back was pressed up against the wall and Alex was pressed up against him, faces so close he could feel his breath. It was overwhelming.

“Shh,” Alex shushed, moving in just a little closer under the guise of hiding. However, Michael wasn’t stupid. Or, actually, maybe he was extremely stupid. Either way, he pushed himself forward just enough to finally kiss Alex on the lips.

Alex sighed in relief and pressed in harder, his hand the only thing keeping his head from hitting the brick wall. He tasted better than Michael could've imagined and he got his hands on Alex's face to hold him close, his tongue slipping past his lips to deepen the kiss. It was too good. Fuck Max.

"God, I've wanted to do that for so long," Alex breathed, smiling wider than he ever had. Michael thought about asking how long, about figuring out how much time he'd wasted by not noticing Alex earlier. He pushed the thought away for later.

"Then don't stop," Michael said.

"Don't plan on it."

Liz Ortecho was somehow infinitely more appealing when she was entirely off limits.

They were supposed to just be studying on this fine Sunday afternoon, but, as they sat on the hood of his Jeep and watched the sunset, it felt like much more. His conversation with Michael that morning loomed in his mind, though, and he kept trying to figure out how to ask her to go have a meal so he could introduce her properly to Michael.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Max?” Liz asked randomly, looking over at him to see he was already staring at her. She smiled when she noticed which saved him the embarrassment.

“No,” Max answered honestly. Liz rolled onto her side.

“Well, like, have you ever kissed anyone?” she wondered, resting her head in her hand. Max shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, a couple times,” he answered honestly. Liz looked at him, her eyes searching his face in a way that made heat pool in his cheeks. “Have you?”

“Yeah,” Liz said, moving a little closer. She looked pretty in the sunset. She always looked pretty. “And I’ve been wondering when you’re finally going to kiss me.”

Max’s eyes widened and if he’d had any less of a grip on his place laying on the hood, he would’ve fallen off the car. Liz just smiled as if she was proud of his shocked expression.

“Huh?”

“We’ve been hanging out and talking for, what, a week now? And you haven’t even tried, not even when I went for it,” Liz told him, tilting her head, “Do you not want to?”

“No, I…” Max breathed, trying to find the words to say. He knew he should’ve said no, but she was staring at him like she wanted him and that didn’t happen to him a lot. And it especially didn’t happen to him when that person looked like Liz Ortecho. Michael who? “I want to.”

“Then do it,” Liz instructed. Max just stared at her, a little overwhelmed and a little lost. He’d kissed two girls before, but neither of them had been so upfront with what they wanted. He liked it, though, even if it scared the shit out of him.

“I-I’m not really sure how to‒”

“Boys,” Liz scoffed, rolling her eyes before she leaned in for him.

Suddenly, Max was being kissed. Like, really kissed. Liz easily showed up the girls he’d kissed before if only based on sheer confidence alone. She knew what she was doing as she had her hand on his chest and she knew what she was doing when she moved on top of him.

Max held her waist as respectfully as possible as she kissed him, but his brain found it hard to even focus enough for that. She pushed her tongue into his mouth at some point and that seemed to be the moment he lost all guilt. Her strong thighs anchored on either side of his hips and her hands slowly slid down his chest before grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head. He felt surrounded by her and a little helpless to her in a good way. He liked the way him being a foot taller than her didn’t fucking matter.

Her hands squeezed his wrists gently before weaving her fingers to lock with his, still kissing him like the world was ending and this was all that mattered. Honestly, if it was, he wouldn’t care. He just wanted this.

“Wait,” he breathed, “Shouldn’t we be studying?”

Liz laughed, pulling back to look down at him. She looked confident in a way that made his heart beat a little harder in his chest. He wanted her to look at him like that for the rest of his life.

“Would you rather study chemistry, or,” Liz said, smiling as she slowly sat up. He stared at her as she led his hands to her thighs, trying to keep his entire system from freaking out over such a small little action. “Would you rather a little introduction to human biology?”

Max swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. Maybe he should mention the fact that his brother had a crush on her and they probably shouldn’t be doing this until he talked to Michael. God, Isobel was going to have a field day with his fuck ups. But, as he looked at Liz, he didn’t really care. Fuck Michael.

“Where do you want to start?” Max asked. Liz grinned so bright it could’ve taken out the sun.

For what felt like a while and yet not long enough, Max and Liz kissed and touched on the hood of his Jeep. It was a brand new experience and he ended up needing a few minutes to calm down before he could drive her home. Liz thought it was funny.

“Next time we’ll have to be somewhere a little less uncomfortable than the hood of your car,” Liz decided with a laugh as he drove her home.

“Next time?” Max echoed. Liz swatted his arm gently.

“Yes, next time,” she said, “Maybe we could even, I don’t know, go to the dance together?”

Max took his eyes off the road to look over at her. She was watching him with that same confidence. He looked back to the road.

“You want to go to the Homecoming dance with me?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s why I suggested it,” she said. Max rolled his eyes and fought the smile that tried to show on his face. “Could be fun.”

Max thought about their agreement, how Michael wanted to take Liz. But, at this point, Liz had already made her choice. She liked him. Trying to pass her off to Michael would just be rude to her, right? It wasn’t his choice to make when it came to who she was seeing.

“Okay,” Max agreed, nodding his head, “Let’s do it.”

“It’s going to be fun,” she promised, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek to solidify the agreement.

Now he just had to figure out how the hell to tell Michael.

Michael watched Max like a goddamn hawk as they ate lunch.

He’d been up all night thinking about Alex and trying to figure out how to tell Max that they needed to just cancel the deal. He expected that Max was going to be really mad at him, but Isobel would be there to soften the blow and he had a hard time imagining a world in which Alex kissing him didn’t make a little brother’s quarrel worth it.

Max, however, was already avoiding his eyes. His tall body was hunched over his tray and he had been successfully ignoring everyone. Michael was slowly but surely becoming convinced that he somehow already figured it out and he was waiting for Michael to tell him so he could sulk even more publically. It made him feel even worse.

Still, Michael slowly scanned the cafeteria until he locked eyes with Alex. He smiled a tiny smile and looked back to his friends, but the smile was worth it. It gave him a little bit of strength to try and talk it out.

“Hey, Max, can we talk?”

“Here we go,” Isobel said under her breath.

Max looked up at him, “Yeah, what about?”

“About the deal we made,” Michael said carefully. Max didn’t show any immediate expression, instead just watching Michael and almost following his lead. It made Michael uneasy. It shut him right up.

“Okay, yeah, I’m not about to listen to the world’s emptiest conversation,” Isobel butted in, “Just say what you need to say, both of you.”

Max and Michael both looked to Isobel, but she had that no-nonsense look on her face and they both looked back to each other. There was no going back. He’d already kissed Alex, Alex already admitted to liking him, that was it.

“I kissed Alex.” Michael blurted at the same time Max said, “I kissed Liz.”

“Now was that so hard?” Isobel asked. Max and Michael still stared at each other, both a little wide eyed and shocked.

“But you said Alex wasn’t your type,” Max accused. Michael scoffed.

“You said Liz wasn’t your type.”

“And having a type at all is boring,” Isobel added, “Which is why we’re not going to make a big deal out of this. You both have someone to make heart eyes at, we’re all good.”

“Are we actually all good?” Michael asked, “You’re not mad?”

“No,” Max said, eyeing him, “And you’re not mad?”

“No,” Michael admitted, “I really like Alex.”

“And I really like Liz.”

They both nodded slowly, both a little unsure of the other one’s words. Obviously, they weren’t lying, but it never hurt to triple check. They both seemed to be okay with it though.

“I guess it works out where we both have dates for the dance now,” Max pointed out. Michael laughed slightly, nodding.

“Yeah, you have a point.”

“You know what that means?” Isobel said, smiling as wide as she could, “Suit and dress shopping after school.”

Neither of the boys had it in them to say no.

As fun as kissing Liz in the backseat of his car was, Max eventually found himself overcome with guilt.

After settling things with Michael, he thought he would be able to forget the deal in the first place. He was happy with Liz. However, the more he thought about it, the more he felt bad that he wasn’t being completely honest about why he’d approached her in the first place.

“Liz, can I tell you something?” he asked. Liz pulled away, looking at him with a hesitant look like she wasn’t quite sure what he was about to say. Still, she nodded slowly. “So, well, basically, I don’t really know how to word this, but, basically, my brother has a crush on you.”

She blinked in shock, sitting up straight. “What?”

“Well, I mean, had a crush on you, technically,” Max specified. Liz eyed him a little still. “I originally told him that I would become your friend and then introduce him properly, but I ended up really liking you myself, so that failed. I just didn’t want to lie to you.”

Liz stared at him for what felt like an hour. In reality, it was probably only a minute. It still felt like forever.

“But he doesn’t like me anymore, right? Because he’s with Alex and I need to tell him if that’s the case,” Liz said. Max’s eyebrows shot up.

“You know about that?” he asked. Liz nodded.

“Alex tells me everything,” Liz said, “But you’re sure he’s not into me anymore?”

“He’s not,” Max promised, “He’s into Alex.”

“And you are into me, right?”

“So, so much.”

“Then we’re all good,” she decided, slowly relaxing again, “And that explains why you took so long to kiss me.”

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that long,” he laughed. She rolled her eyes dramatically before moving back into his space exactly where she was welcome.

“It felt like forever.”

Michael hadn’t ever experienced a moment quite like the ones he shared with Alex.

They were laying in the back of his truck, huddled in the blankets and cuddling close. Alex was in his arms, his head securely under his chin, and their legs entwined. It was comfortable and safe and Michael dreaded the moment they’d have to move. But, when he thought about one day being able to do that in an actual bed, it made up for everything.

Still, there was still a main thing keeping him from relaxing entirely.

“Hey,” Michael whispered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah,” Alex whispered back. They were in the middle of nowhere, they didn’t have to whisper. They did it anyway.

Michael swallowed as he bowed his face against Alex’s head. “I started hanging out with you because Max had a crush on you, but I sort of accidentally ended up liking you way more than him.”

Alex was still for a second, long enough to instill some panic in Michael, before he snorted.

“Max Evans?” Alex asked, not moving from his comfortable spot against Michael’s chest.

“Yeah,” Michael said, smiling a little at Alex’s calm demeanor.

“No offense, but that never would’ve worked,” he admitted, lifting his head a little bit to look Michael in the eyes.

“Why not?” Michael asked. Alex smiled softly, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“Well, for one, I think I have way too much baggage for him,” he said. Michael snorted, nodding in agreement. “But mainly I don’t think I could ever date any of your friends. You’re just the only one I’ve wanted.”

“You want me enough to go to the dance with me?” Michael asked. Alex scrunched up his nose and gave a dramatic sigh.

“I mean, I guess,” he said. Michael laughed, moving forward to give him a soft kiss. Alex reciprocated it.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Michael promised, letting his eyes close as they settled into each other even more. He was sure more than ever that he had no doubts in his decisions. Alex was everything.

“I know you will.”

Isobel watched as Michael and Max sat with their dates in one of the booths at the back of the Crashdown.

They were all dressed up and looking gorgeous despite the heat that was the school’s gym. None of them had decided to stay long, choosing to leave as soon as Isobel was announced Homecoming Queen. They’d congratulated her and gave her hugs, but she allowed them to get wrapped up in their dates. When prom came along, she would insist on much more attention.

For now, though, she was content to let them be happy. They were all smiles and heart eyes and, as much as she didn’t get it, she wasn’t about to ruin their party. She liked seeming calm and happy and laughing. They deserved it. That’s what mattered, right?

Isobel felt a little lonely and a little sad, but she would be okay.

It wasn’t until later that night, though, that she really understood what being okay really was. Max snuck into her bedroom and crawled into bed beside her, wedging himself between her and the wall. A few seconds later, Michael was climbing off the floor and on the edge of the bed. They all stared at the ceiling together.

And, maybe for the first time, they were all happy.

#malex #malex fic #echo #echo fic #michael guerin #alex manes #liz ortecho #max evans #rnm fic #my fic #whats it gonna be?

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winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Caleo one-shot: Back in Waystation

Warning: Tower of Nero spoilers! Do not read past this point if you don’t want to know anything that happens in the book!

Summary: Calypso returns from the band camp and she and Leo finally sort some things out (Post ToN).

A/N: Here’s the 'fix it' fic I promised. Like I said in one of the author's notes of TWLitF, I feel like Rick did these two very dirty in ToA, especially in the end when he left things so open ended. It would have been better for both characters if he had made them, you know, deal with their issues. I know this fic ended up being very sappy but it was something I myself would have liked to read so... I hope you guys enjoy it too.

Also, since this fic has taken a lot of my writing time for the past 2ish weeks, I'm not going to post a new chapter for TWLitF tomorrow. But worry not because I am hoping to post normally again next Thursday! Stay tuned!

Don't forget to let me know what you think of this fic!

Words: 4100+

genre: fluff, slight hurt/comfort (you know, the usual)

warnings: none

AO3

...

It was already late August. The weather had started getting slightly cooler in Indianapolis and people were getting prepared to go back to work and school after the summer vacation. Even Leo was preparing for the start of the new high school year; he had finished his community service teaching the homeless kids shop skills a week before and gone to buy some supplies for the school year. Now all that was left to do was waiting.

If the young demigod was totally honest to himself, he was getting a bit antsy. His girlfriend had been gone for pretty much the whole summer, counseling at a band camp and not telling him when exactly she would be back. If ever. Leo was worried that she’d meet someone way cooler than him at the camp and just leave some message that he shouldn’t be expecting her to return.

Before she had left, things had been complicated between them; they had been arguing quite a lot and Leo hadn’t exactly been his usual self after returning from his trip to California. He had found out about the death of his best friend Jason and accompanied the heartbroken Piper to her new home before flying back to Waystation where the information about Jason had fully sunk in. Unlike Leo himself, Jason would never be back.

Calypso had never known the son of Jupiter and she didn’t know how strongly his death had affected those who had known him. That’s why Leo felt like he couldn’t show his mourning to her and for a few weeks after his return he had been pretty withdrawn. Instead of going back to school with Calypso he had been tinkering in Jo’s workshop until Jo had dragged him out of there and forced him to take care of himself, to eat, to shower and so on. She had also been the one to suggest the community service for Leo, and after considering it he had finally decided it could be a good idea. Having something to do that forced Leo to leave the house had a positive impact on him and even though he still missed Jason, he also knew that Jason would be mad if he didn’t try to move forward, so he did. That led to Leo’s current issue, Calypso. He wished he would have had an opportunity to talk with her properly before she had left….

Loud clanking pulled Leo back from his thoughts. He was in the workshop again, this time with Jo and Georgie, trying to fix a part of Festus’ wing that had broken when one of Leo’s homeless pupils had accidentally thrown something at it, not knowing Festus was there. Jo was instructing Georgie with something that looked way too dangerous in the hands of a 7-year-old but Leo knew from experience that since she was a demigod (suspected to be Apollo’s daughter), she would have to learn to fight sooner rather than later. Waystation may have been a safe haven for demigods but Georgina wouldn’t be able to hide from the monsters forever.

Leo was going to ask Jo’s opinion on how to make the wing part more durable when the workshop door opened. Expecting it to be just Emmie who would tell them the dinner was ready, he didn’t even turn to look at the newcomer. But soon he felt weird tingling on his skin that had absolutely nothing to do with Emmie as he smelled the very familiar cinnamon scent and realized that the steps were lighter than the older woman’s.

“Hi,” he heard a soft voice say and he finally turned around to see his girlfriend standing right behind him. She was smiling at him, although slightly awkwardly, probably as unsure about their situation as he was. A hundred different emotions rushed through Leo as he took her in; happiness, nervousness, uncertainty… and how had he forgotten she was so damn pretty? When he didn’t say anything for a moment, she tilted her head slightly, looking at him expectantly. Finally the gears started moving again in Leo’s head and he spread his arms, leaping into a hug.

“You late, Sunshine,” he mumbled against her shoulder as he tightened his arms around her. Calypso recognized the reference to what she herself had said back on Ogygia and couldn’t stop her smile from widening a bit as she responded to Leo’s hug. He probably would have kissed her on the mouth too but Jo and Georgina’s presence made Leo a bit self conscious about showing affection and he ended up kissing her cheek instead. “Missed ya,” he whispered after that.

Eventually the couple pulled away from the hug. Calypso greeted the other two people in the room and turned her attention back to Leo again.

“So, I’m Sunshine now again? No more Mamacita?” Her tone was suspicious but Leo could tell that she was actually happy about the change.

“Yeah,” Leo shrugged. “Reyna had quite a talk with me about how ladies should be addressed and apparently Mamacita isn’t an appropriate way to do that,” he said sheepishly.

Calypso cocked her eyebrow a bit at that piece of information. Even though she hadn’t met Reyna personally because she had left for her band camp before Reyna and the other hunters of Artemis had visited Waystation, she did remember hearing the name before. “Reyna? Isn’t she that girl who you saw in that vision back on Ogygia? The one with dark hair and…”

“Yes, that’s her,” Leo said cautiously. “She’s a Hunter now so she and her group visit here pretty often.” Before Calypso had time to say anything to that, he added: “She’s acting like a sister figure towards me and she’s scolded me a lot for… well, a lot of things.” He decided to not reveal that a lot of their talks had revolved around Calypso.

Calypso’s expression softened at his comment. “I’m glad someone has been keeping you in check while I was gone. Maybe I should let her do that more often.”

Worry flashed briefly in Leo’s eyes because he thought she was implying that she would be leaving Waystation so she decided to calm him down. “Relax, Repair Boy. I didn’t mean it that way. I wanted to stay here with you and that hasn’t changed. Besides, high school is pretty great, you know? I want to get through that. But, um… I’ve been thinking. About what was going on between us before I left.”

“Oh? Yeah, me too,” Leo replied, combing his messy hair with his hand.

Suddenly they remembered that there were two extra pairs of ears in the room listening to them, ending the conversation there.

“Ahem,” Jo cleared her throat, understanding the situation all too well. “Leo, how about you take Calypso’s bag into her room? I can see the wing meanwhile. I promise Festus will be better than new soon.” “Sure, I can do that, mom,” Leo said with slight reservation in his voice.

Calypso gave Jo a thankful look, exchanging a couple of words with her and Georgina before pulling Leo out of the workshop.

The two occupied the room Calypso used to sleep in before the band camp. Leo didn’t hang out there that often, but he was reminded of one particular time earlier that spring when he had been there. That night Calypso had had some nightmares and she had found out Leo was awake as well. They had stayed up talking for a long while in Calypso’s room until falling asleep next to each other. Even though they had been fully clothed when Emmie had come to wake Calypso up for some morning gardening (Leo felt like bursting into flames even at the thought of having done something that involved taking their clothes off. It wasn’t that he had never thought of it - he was a 17-year-old boy who was very much in love with his girlfriend after all - but he didn’t think they were quite there yet. And he highly doubted that Calypso would appreciate him even requesting that), the mother hens of Waystation had still pulled them apart and had some very embarrassing talks with them. Comparing it to the time when Percy and Annabeth had fallen asleep at the stables of Argo II, Leo felt like those two had gotten off easy.

“So… How was the camp?” Leo started awkwardly after setting Calypso’s bag down in her room, snapping out of his memories.

“It was good,” Calypso said simply, sitting down on her couch, Leo following her. “I am impressed by how talented these kids with no special powers can be.”

“Don’t underestimate the regular mortals,” Leo noted. “In my homeless kid group there were a few that were really good at the shop skills even though I’m pretty certain they couldn’t see Festus.”

“What do you mean with that?” Calypso asked. Before she had left for her camp, she had heard about Leo’s plans for the community service, but what she didn’t know was that Leo had used Festus as the place to teach the kids. Leo explained the situation to her.

“But isn’t that kind of risky?” she wanted to know then. “I mean, I know he’s your friend, and all, but what if he had accidentally started blowing fire at them or something?”

“C’mon, of course I had safety precautions for that,” Leo protested. “I may be an idiot but I do know my way around mechanical dragons.”

“Right. Of course.” Calypso said. Before their break she might have started a debate about Leo’s safety precautions but given the circumstances she decided that it would be better to not question it. A silence fell between the two as both wondered how to approach the topics they really wanted to talk about.

“So how have you been doing, really?” they asked almost simultaneously.

“Um, you go first,” Leo said, attempting to be polite.

“Like I said, I did enjoy the camp,” Calypso answered, getting a dreamy look on her face. “It’s… still so fascinating to me to see how the regular mortals – I guess I’m one of them now – live, having no idea what’s going on behind their backs… And I learned a lot of things about modern music that Apollo didn’t teach me. I know how to play the guitar now! But…” she hesitated a bit. “What about you?”

Leo got a strong feeling that she was actually going to say something else after that ‘but’. Her face told him that she was debating in her mind about something. Maybe she was even going to say she had missed him? But instead of asking about that, he answered Calypso's question.

“Decent, I guess, all things considered… Who would have thought that I enjoy teaching? But I guess it helped me that I could relate to those kids’ situations… and it’s kept me distracted from what happened with Jason…” He was looking down at his hands, hoping it would manage to keep him calm enough.

“Yeah…” Calypso seemed to be thinking about something for a while. Eventually she asked: “Hey, would you like to tell me more about him? I mean, what was he like?”

Leo was surprised by the request but he did what he was told to do.

“Jason… He always put the others’ happiness before his own. On the day we met, Piper was about to fall in a canyon but he jumped after her without knowing that he could fly. Crazy, I know, but that’s the kind of guy he was” He noticed that even though it hurt, he was now able to smile at the memory.

“I don’t remember if I’ve told this to you but Hera had messed with his memory; he didn’t remember almost anything about his past, but I think he took it all like a boss. If I had been in his boots I would have probably punched her in the face. Jason also accepted me as his friend even though…” Leo’s lip started trembling but he bit it and managed to continue: “Even though I had never had real friends before Piper and Jason and didn’t really know how to act around other people. That’s why the jokes. He was probably everything I wished I was - strong, smart, etc. - but never made a big deal out of it. He was so humble. After what happened with Dirt Face he probably thought he’d get to live a normal life and be a regular high school student, but...

“The Triumvirate…” Calypso said for him, having heard that part of the story before.

“Yeah,” Leo nodded sadly. “From what I’ve heard, Jason knew he would have to die in order to let Piper and the others survive and Apollo to succeed in his mission. He wasn’t like me, though. I hadn’t really accepted death when I decided to sacrifice myself against Potty Sludge so I used the Physician’s Cure. Jason, though… he had accepted his fate and he died knowing that Apollo would make things right. I’ve heard from Apollo that his last wishes were that no minor god would be forgotten again, and that Apollo would remember what it was like to be a human even after he becomes a god again. And to me it seems Apollo is holding to that promise. I know things won’t probably ever be perfect for us, but… if even one god is on our side… I feel like some things might improve at least for the next generation of demigods and… Jason didn’t die in vain.” He sighed, fiddling with his hands like always when he was dealing with difficult topics.

“So you think that Jason was the reason why Apollo was able to change?” Calypso asked.

“No, probably not the only reason, but… a reason nevertheless.” Leo said absentmindedly.

“Jason and you were willing to die for your cases. Sometimes I wonder… if giving up my immortality was the right choice, but hearing these stories makes me feel more peace with it. Life is short when you are a mortal and that’s why we should live it the fullest every day… and that’s why…” Calypso leaned towards Leo until their lips touched. It was a short and gentle kiss but it made Leo flustered and worried he might accidentally burn something.

“W-what was that for?” he stuttered when they broke apart.

“Stupid. You thought I found some hot clarinet guys from the camp and forgot about you?”

“You still… love me?” Leo asked in return. Even though he technically knew it (how else would he have gotten out of Ogygia in the first place?), it wasn’t something Calypso said aloud often and especially after the events of the past couple of months Leo had had a lot of doubt in his mind. Hearing it felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt a smile spread on his face automatically.

“We may argue sometimes and you may be kind of insufferable when you’re in that mood but after taking some time to think I recognize that I am at fault too for the issues we’ve had and I am willing to admit that. Sometimes I’ve blamed you for things that were not your fault and I’m sorry about that. Besides, I see that you have learned a thing or two while I was gone. Not calling me Mamacita is a good start. So, yes, Leo Valdez. Se filo.

Even though Leo hadn’t spent a lot of time learning Ancient Greek at Camp Half-Blood, he still knew what Calypso’s line meant. His heart suddenly feeling full, he had to admit that the line felt more powerful when said in your first language. But there was a language even more near and dear to him than Spanish; one that his mother had taught him when he had been very young, one that he had repeated countless and countless times when missing her. During their flight from Ogygia back to the States he had taught a certain rhythm to Calypso so she knew the meaning too. When he started tapping against the back of her hand, a small sniffle came out of Calypso’s mouth.

“You haven’t done that in a long while,” she said quietly, her voice slightly cracked. “Gods, I feel I’ve been pretty selfish lately… All this time I have been thinking about my own struggles and have forgotten you have your own… yet your feelings towards me haven’t changed… You know, Apollo was right to get mad at me that one time.”

“What?” Leo asked, not understanding what Calypso was talking about.

“When we were on our way to that zoo…” she referred to the time when they had just arrived at Waystation. “Oh, never mind. What matters is that I see more clearly now. I’m not sure if I’m much better than those men who left me in Ogygia.”

“Of course you are!” Leo exclaimed. “You were stuck there for thousands of years! I… can’t even imagine… being forced to fall in love that many times and having to watch all of them go… I would have gone nuts. Thinking about it, I find it crazy that you didn’t just throw me out of your island. You deserved something better.”

“Leo…” Calypso said, turning his face towards her gently. “I think the fact that you weren’t exactly the type of hero that I was hoping for back then was the reason why things ended up going differently with you. I did not fall for you because of the curse. I fell for you despite that. And… after spending so much time together without having any time off from each other, I… started taking things for granted and forgot to be grateful. I owe you a lot. But I want to make it clear that that’s not why I want to be with you. I want to be with you for you. Sarcasm and bad puns included. And that’s what I remembered while I was gone.”

“Hey, Cal…” Leo removed Calypso’s hand from his jaw and took it into his. “I think we’ve both been faulty for these issues. The others here have made me realize that I haven’t exactly been the best boyfriend material either. I don’t talk about my issues. I make jokes at moments when I shouldn’t and probably make you think I don’t take our relationship seriously. Like that one time when I compared it to machines. I… I think I can see now why that annoyed you but that’s just how I roll. A machine geek and a clown. Those will probably always be a part of who I am so I’m not gonna promise that I’m just gonna magically change. But what I can promise is that I will try to make you see that I do take this seriously. Because I do.”

Calypso gave him a small, genuine smile and squeezed Leo’s hand slightly.

“I believe you. And… maybe we’re just one of those couples who enjoy bickering. What’s a life without challenge?”

Leo chuckled at that. “Wouldn’t have said it better myself, Sunshine.”

“I haven’t given my permission for the nickname ‘Sunshine’…” Calypso gave Leo a pointed look, which however quickly melted into a mischievous smile. “But we’ll see about that. More seriously speaking, though… I should try to keep my temper in check more as well. That doesn’t mean that I won’t call you out, though, when you deserve it.” She nudged him playfully.

“That’s fair enough,” Leo admitted too, giving her a lopsided smile.

“Yeah… Listen,” Calypso said suddenly. “In case you still doubt my commitment… I have something to show you.”

She went to her desk and took some papers out of the drawer.

“Here. Something I found on Ogygia after you left. Thought you might want to see it again.”

Leo took a closer look at the drawings and his mouth opened in surprise.

“You… these…” he said, dumbfounded.

“I just made Leo Valdez quiet? Miracles do happen.” Calypso teased but then turned her focus on the papers as well. It was a blueprint of a garage building Leo had drawn while stuck on Ogygia with Calypso. Besides Leo’s own workshop, there was a space for Calypso to do her work as well. For something that had been sketched in only a few hours, it seemed that he had still put a lot of thought into it. Even Annabeth Chase would have been proud of it.

“I… I wasn’t expecting to see these anymore,” Leo said with a hoarse voice, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room.

“But it was something you dreamed about, right?” Calypso asked, worried she had done something wrong.

“Yeah… still do.” Leo nodded, the papers shaking in his hands. “I didn’t think you’d remember…”

“I remember a lot more than you think I do,” Calypso said. “I used to be a titaness, remember? But… when I saw it I knew it was important to you and I kept it because it was my way to hold onto the hope that…” She swallowed. “That you would come back to me.”

Leo leaned in to give Calypso a kiss on her forehead. “And I did. Hey, wanna hear a secret? I took something from Ogygia to guide me back there. I think I still have it…”

He started fiddling with his toolbelt for a while before he found what he was looking for. It was a tiny piece of crystal from Calypso’s old cave.

“It was thanks to this that I got the astrolabe to work and managed to find back… You can have it.”

“But I…”

“It has done its job. It brought me to you. So, who is more suitable to carry it?”

“Thank you.” Calypso looked at the crystal with teary eyes. “It… may have been my prison but it was also a home… This… means a lot to me.”

“I hope it’ll remind you of the good things you experienced there. Not the bad," Leo said quietly.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it… it will.”

“Good.”

Calypso leaned against Leo’s chest to calm herself down, getting his shirt wet but he didn’t complain. She didn’t move from there for a long time, and Leo was starting to get a bit worried before she finally lifted her head and swiped her nose on a tissue Leo dug for her from his toolbelt. Then she looked at him with her puffy eyes, somehow still looking good in Leo’s opinion.

“I don’t know what just happened there…” She mumbled. “I guess… this whole past year… or more… has been a lot. Yet I haven’t been able to cry even once… Somehow it just all flooded out of me now.” “’s OK.” Leo said, stroking Calypso’s long hair. “Trust me, I’ve been feeling that way… well, probably since I was 8.”

“When your mom…”

“Yeah,” Leo nodded. “But wanna hear a weird thing? Even though things haven’t exactly been easy for us… Right now I’m feeling more balanced than in a long time.”

“And why is that?” Calypso asked.

“This is gonna sound cheesy as hell but I think it’s because I’ve finally found a home. No, I don’t mean Waystation as a place, although I admit it’s cool as heck and the only place about as safe as Camp Half-Blood. But I mean the people here. You guys make it home.”

Even though Leo didn’t say it aloud, his eyes told Calypso that he wanted to say ‘especially you’. She understood.

“I think… I feel the same way,” she said.

Leo brushed a strand of her hair aside from her face and leaned in to kiss her. The gesture made Calypso happy because so far Leo hadn’t been the one to initiate the more romantic displays of affection, even though she sometimes wished he would. It might have been a bit sloppy, but neither minded, just enjoying the warmth of the kiss.

After they finally separated, they continued talking for a long time, occasionally bickering, but it cleared the air between them. Calypso wanted to teach Leo to play the guitar (“But what if it makes me too irresistible? You’ll have to drive all the ladies away!” “You have a bit too high expectations on yourself, Leonidas.”). Leo told her about his pupils’ and Georgina’s most recent shenanigans. They also ended up speculating about Apollo’s plans now that he was a god again and reminiscing the times on Ogygia. At some point Leo dug the Valdezinator from his toolbelt and got Calypso to sing along to the music, making both a bit emotional again but in a good way. They fell asleep huddled in each other’s arms on the couch and didn’t even care when Jo and Emmie found them there the next morning, giving them quite a scolding again.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #trials of apollo #heroes of olympus #my fics #tower of nero #percy jackson and the olympians

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nerianasims · 3 years

Text

Billboard #1s 1988

Under the cut.

"So Emotional" -- Whitney Houston -- January 9, 1988

It's either a song about cheating or about being hung up on an ex. She's got a love of her own, but she's "so emotional" with this other guy, and keeps a picture of him by her bed. Um, does the other guy know this? Maybe she needs to have sex with the other guy so she stops being obsessed with the touch of the previous one. It's a dance song, and I like the beat, but it's painfully repetitive in the second half. Also, while I've known the chorus to this song very well since it came out, I thought it was a normal love song until I looked up the lyrics just now. Houston doesn't sing it like she's in any pain -- well, except I bet her throat hurt from the oversinging.

"Got My Mind Set on You" -- George Harrison -- January 16, 1988

Super repetitive lyrics. But the music's really fun, and I love what lyrics there are. I wish there weren't so few, though. "It's gonna take a whole lot of money" harks back to the many Beatles songs where they sang proudly about spending money on women they loved. Still, this is an example of how George was the best solo Beatle eventually. The video's cute, too, and obviously lampshades the idea of George Harrison doing backflips and dancing.

"The Way You Make Me Feel" -- Michael Jackson -- January 23, 1988

Michael Jackson was no Janelle Monáe. On so many levels. In this case, he wasn't anywhere near her artistic standard. This song does have the lyrics "Oh I'll be workin' from nine to five/ To buy you things to keep you by my side," but it sounds more like a Beatles rip-off than a tribute. I actually didn't remember this song at all, and the video is one of those annoying 80s ones that takes an entire minute to start the song. Then Jackson does a whole bunch of "woos" and "ows" and all that stuff he did that worked in moderation. But "moderation" was not what he was doing in 1988. In any way. He actually oversings in this. I turned it off halfway through. And immediately turned to Janelle Monáe's "The Way You Make Me Feel," which I adore.

"Need You Tonight" -- INXS -- January 30, 1988

This is one of my favorite songs. It's incredibly sexy, obviously. I didn't really notice it until I was around 15, and then I NOTICED it. As I got older, the song got better. The lines "You can care all you want/ Everybody does yeah that's okay" have meant so much to me ever since I started dating seriously. Because caring was not what you were supposed to do.

Anyway, this song is phenomenal and I love it.

"Could've Been" -- Tiffany -- February 6, 1988

This song was #1 for two weeks, and all the previous ones from 1988 have been one week. How? It's a heartbreak song that starts with the lyrics "The flowers you gave me/ Are just about to die," which is painfully on-the-nose. They'd probably work in a country song, but this is lite pop, not country. Tiffany occasionally seems to be trying to do some country stuff with her voice, which is smart. But that's not enough. It's not a terrible song, but it does nothing for me. I don't remember ever having heard it before.

"Seasons Change" -- Exposé -- February 20, 1988

Speaking of songs I haven't heard before. I like this one though. The music's pretty interesting, especially the melody. The singing's excellent. And the music behind "seasons change/people change" sounds exactly like some of the music from Persona 4, so I wonder if Atlus' composer was influenced by it, unconsciously or not. It's just a couple notes, though. Lyrically, the song is about being in love now but realizing it might not last. It's good. I'm gonna look up more of their music.

"Father Figure" -- George Michael -- February 27, 1988

The music for this song is great, and George Michael as usual sings wonderfully. But um. There are some kinks that make me run screaming even when they're really mild. "I will be your father figure/ Put your tiny hand in mine" are two of them. So if you enjoy this song, I'm happy for you, it's musically lovely. I will be going to take a shower now.

"Never Gonna Give You Up" -- Rick Astley -- March 12, 1988

There was a time when I would have easily been able to have an opinion on this song. That time was long ago. It's hard to hear as a song now, rather than an internet meme. But I will not give up. (The video has almost 9 million views, sheesh.)

Okay so they're friends and now he wants a relationship. He says "You wouldn't get this from any other guy," which is a total jerkass line. Other than that, the lyrics are -- oh who am I kidding, I can't do this.

"Man in the Mirror" -- Michael Jackson -- March 26, 1988

I try to separate the art from the artist. That's in both positive and negative directions. If I love someone's art, that doesn't mean they're a good person. If I hate it, that doesn't mean they're a bad person.

This song, though -- "I'm starting with the man in the mirror/ I'm asking him to change his ways" -- uh yeah. Liar. And it's wedged in with all this "oh you should care about all the starving kids and homeless people" self-sanctification that Michael Jackson always protected himself with. This song disgusts me.

"Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car" -- Billy Ocean -- April 9, 1988

Speaking of disgust. Yay street harassment! I've never heard anything bad about Billy Ocean as a human being though. But I'm not listening to more than 5 seconds of this song. Gross.

"Where Do Broken Hearts Go" -- Whitney Houston -- April 23, 1988

She's singing to a man she wants to get back together with after they decided they needed some "space." There's a lot of naivete in the song -- "And if somebody loves you/ Won't they always love you?" No. Even if they do still love you, that doesn't mean it will work. But maybe it will. I've never gotten back together with someone after a breakup, though I've been asked to many times (percentage-wise.) I've always had an allergy to it, both because my parents got back together after divorcing and should not have, and because I had a friend who broke up with her boyfriend and got back together with him at least 8 times in the space of a year and I had to keep hearing about it.

So this song doesn't really speak to me. But it's pretty good. Houston sings it well too, reigning in the oversinging until near the end.

"Wishing Well" -- Terence Trent D'Arby -- May 7, 1988

That's an awesome name. The writer of this song said he wrote it when he was half-asleep, which makes sense. "Butterfly tears", okay, just poetry, but you want to fall in love near a well of crocodile tears too? Doesn't that mean you're faking? I like the song though. It's sort of funk, but softer than full-on funk. I like the way D'Arby sings it. The whistling part (keyboard whistling) is very enjoyable. It's a fun song, and one I do remember from the time.

"Anything for You" -- Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine -- May 14, 1988

A pretty breakup song. But, of course, I have an issue. "I can pretend each time I see you/ That I don't care and I don't need you/ And though you'll never see me cryin'/ You know inside I feel like dying." Well that makes his life a lot easier, doesn't it. The whole song is about how she'll do anything to make him happy. Urgh. She needs to tell him to get out of her life so she can make a brand new start.

"One More Try" -- George Michael -- May 28, 1988

Yet another heartbreak song. It's not surprising that I remember so few songs from this year. I feel like I'm back in the 60s before The Beatles again. Though this year is musically better, I'm still bored. Anyway, in this one, the narrator doesn't want to try again, and he keeps addressing the person he doesn't want to try again with as "teacher," which is... a thing. The only time he seems willing to try again is the very last line, which is "Maybe just one more try."

It's slow, it's pretty enough, it would be unbearably boring if George Michael weren't such a good singer. I'm bored anyway. No wonder we ran screaming from anything smacking of this kind of thing in the early 90s. I feel stupid and contagious.

"Together Forever" -- Rick Astley -- June 18, 1988

He certainly had a brand, didn't he? The song title tells you everything you need to know about the lyrics. The song sounds a lot like "Never Gonna Give You Up," but much more boring. A massive drum machine intro can't carry this. I do recognize the chorus, but that's it. The song is fine, really. But that's it. It sounds like a lesser knockoff of "Never Gonna Give You Up."

"Foolish Beat" -- Debbie Gibson -- June 25, 1988

Heartbreak song. Sigh. There's a nice cheesy saxophone that I like, at least. She left him and she regrets it and thinks "I could never love again/ The way that I loved you." Nope, it's never the same. That doesn't mean it's worse. It's often better. I'm not listening to the whole thing, not even in case the sax comes back. The song's too dull.

"Dirty Diana" -- Michael Jackson -- July 2, 1988

It's about some groupie trying to seduce poor widdle helpless Michael. I don't remember ever hearing this song, and it's musically whiny too. Yuck. So much yuck.

"The Flame" -- Cheap Trick -- July 9, 1988

Heartbreak. Song. Again. "You were the first, you'll be the last" oh no they won't. I entirely approve of being honest about heartbreak, but this year is just crushing with the monotony of it. At least there's a beat to this one.

By the way, in the video, the lead singer's hair appears to be made of straw. Ah, the late 80s, when people thought cooking their hair was the way to go.

"Hold on to the Nights" -- Richard Marx -- July 23, 1988

A heartbreak song in disguise. He's in love with this woman but they can't be together. Are they cheating? I don't know. I don't care. It's so boring, words and music both. Even the piano is blah.

Speaking of late 80s hair, it looks like Richard Marx used an entire can of Aqua Velva on his in the video.

"Roll With It" -- Steve Winwood -- July 30, 1988

This was a #1 hit for four weeks, and I know why. It's not boring! Or depressing! It's got kind of an old-fashioned soul sound: Horns, groove, lyrics. When life is too much, roll with it baby. Not profound, but this is a really good song. One I've heard quite a lot, too, on purpose and everything.

Also, Steve Winwood's hair would work fine today. Coincidence?

"Monkey" -- George Michael -- August 27, 1988

This is actually kind of a heartbreak song, but not really. The one he loves has a "monkey" on their back and he wonders if they love it more than they love him. Addiction is my guess. It's a high-energy dance song, though -- it sounds a little angry, not sad at all. I find the melody sort of dull, but at least there's a beat. But I'm sorry, "Why can't you set your monkey free" is an absolutely hilarious lyric, and I can't take this song seriously in any way.

I think I had the hat George Michael's wearing in the video.

"Sweet Child O' Mine" -- Guns N' Roses -- September 10, 1988

Okay, yeah, sort of a heartbreak song, the relationship sounds like it's a mess with "where do we go now?" sung a zillion times. But it's so good. SO good. And it's rock. It's no wonder that it's one of the few songs that have stayed around from this list. It's not some kind of mass-produced pap without personality. Only Guns N'Roses could do this. Great song, I love it, and I love it more knowing what came before it. Man, Slash can play.

"Don't Worry, Be Happy" -- Bobby McFerrin -- September 24, 1988

Yeah, I'm guessing people were horribly sick of all the overproduced depression on the charts this year. A lot of music critics, and other critics, were really nasty about it because of the simplicity of its lyrics and its earworm-ness. And we made fun of the phrase plenty as young teens in the 90s. But now? I think it's pretty good. Philosophically, it's a mess, but the music isn't serious so I don't think we're supposed to take it seriously. And I like a-cappella. It was played way too much back in the day, though.

(Robin Williams is in the video, which made me tear up. Oof.)

"Love Bites" -- Def Leppard -- October 8, 1988

Technically about heartbreak I guess, but I feel like they're lampshading all the songs from this year which may as well have had the same title. Probably not intentionally. I can't take this song the tiniest bit seriously. It's rock, but not with a lot of personality. Any hair metal band from the time with interchangeable bleached blond frontmen could have done it.

I think this guy used an air fryer on his hair.

"Red Red Wine" -- UB40 -- October 15, 1988

One is supposed to hate this song, or was I don't hate it. I was a kid when it came out, the pop reggae appealed to me, and I still find it fun. Neil Diamond, the original singer, likes it. I certainly find it more interesting than anything with Neil Diamond singing on it.

"A Groovy Kind of Love" -- Phil Collins -- October 22, 1988

It's a cover of a 60s song. "Baby, you and me/ Got a groovy kind of love." This version is incredibly slow, and doesn't have any interesting drum work from Phil. It doesn't make me angry, but it doesn't make me anything. It's there. My brain wandered off and I started looking at stuff on the internet while trying to listen to it.

"Kokomo" -- The Beach Boys -- November 5, 1988

I loved this song as a kid and no one is prying it from me. It makes me happy when I feel down. I got the Cocktail soundtrack this is on for Christmas in my stocking 1988 -- me and seemingly every other kid, I think the tape was massively on sale. I loved the soundtrack, and I especially loved this song. I will never see the movie. I always felt that the song was a middle-aged man singing to his middle-aged wife ("pretty mama".) Which I thought was sweet. I figured that's what middle-aged people did, went off on vacations to tropical islands sometimes, even though my parents never did. I want to though.

"Wild, Wild West" -- The Escape Club -- November 12, 1988

"Heading for the nineties," hm? Well one of the lines is "give me, give me safe sex," and safe sex messaging being absolutely everywhere was an early to mid 90s thing. It's always funny to hear someone with an English accent sing about something extremely American. This song does sound like it's heading for the nineties musically, which is good. Only heading toward though. It's okay, but not very interesting. The music is repetitive. I got bored halfway though.

"Bad Medicine" -- Bon Jovi -- November 19, 1988

Your love is like "bad medicine" and he's addicted. Like a monkey on his back. What's with that phrase this year? I don't recognize this song. It's overproduced, it's shouty, there's too much going on, and it feels like it's trying too hard. Nope.

"Baby, I Love Your Way/ Freebird Medley" -- Will to Power -- December 3, 1988

I'm used to the 90s cover of "Baby, I Love Your Way" by Big Mountain. And I don't think I'm being biased when I say the Big Mountain version is significantly better. The lead singer of this one, a woman, is way too breathy and mannered.

The "Freebird" portion is bad. Just plain bad. The man singing is also breathy and there's absolutely no oomph. Also a lite, bouncy pop song in which the woman is singing how much she loves the man and the man's like "no I gotta be free" is blech. It does not work.

"Look Away" -- Chicago -- December 10, 1988

This was Chicago's biggest single. The narrator's ex called him to tell him she's with someone new, and he pretends to be happy for her, but wants her to look away so she doesn't see the tears of a clown -- er, no, that's a better song. Same idea though.

A heartbreak song, but I don't mind it, because it's got some blood to it. It's not slow and there's a real beat. Also Peter Cetera wasn't with Chicago any more, so Bill Champlin's the lead singer here, and he's so much better than Cetera it's ridiculous. Champlin brings some guts to the song, he doesn't sing through his nose, and he sounds truly heartbroken. Worlds better than Cetera. So it's a good enough song, if you're in the mood for that kind of thing.

"Every Rose Has Its Thorn" -- Poison -- December 24, 1988

I never minded this song before at all, but I am so sick of this kind of song at this point. Whine whine whine every cowboy sings a sad sad song. You're no Johnny Cash, dude. He said something wrong, he doesn't know what it was, they broke up and he still doesn't know why -- okay, who does this? Actually wait, I know one person who did this, and he keeps saying he has no idea why either of his wives broke up with him and I do because I was there and they told him they would break up with him if he didn't change. Over and over and over and over. And now he's like "poor me, I don't know why this happened. " He probably doesn't, either. He cannot admit fault.

Anyway, projections of my own personal trauma onto a hair metal band aside, the narrator’s ex is now with someone new and he thinks "I never meant that much to you." Maybe, maybe not. Cowboy, change your ways today.

BEST OF 1988 -- "Need You Tonight" by INXS and "Sweet Child O' Mine" by Guns N' Roses. WORST OF 1988 -- "Get Outta My Dreams, Get Into My Car" by Billy Ocean

#billboard number ones #there are a lot this year

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Text

WIN A DATE WITH SPIDER-MAN!

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: E (explicit sexual content) Word count: 10,358 @spideychelleweek

Spideychelle Week Day 4: Meeting Again After High School

Summary: The fact that MJ bought a ticket to this event doesn't mean she wants to be here. It's a favour for a friend, who is not the man someone in the room is about to win a date with. No, that guy isn't her friend, just a date-skipping, heart-breaking ex from high school. Whatever. She's out of here the second they draw the name. It better not be hers.

“If my name gets drawn, I’m going to murder you,” MJ informs Betty when her friend leans against the bar for a breather. She swallows the end of her drink. “Just so you know.”

“You won’t get picked,” Betty assures her.

She isn’t looking at MJ, but at the rest of the people assembled in the hotel’s large event room, a space generously donated for the occasion. It better be one of them, MJ thinks. Anyone but her.

“I could.”

“You won’t,” Betty insists, turning and flagging the bartender to request a glass of cranberry juice.

“Daring,” MJ mutters.

“I’m working, remember? Anyway, look around. Entry was fifty dollars―”

“That I remember. You’re totally paying me back for doing this.”

Betty rolls her eyes and continues. “It was fifty dollars per entry and how many times do you think they put their names in?” she asks MJ, pointing a subtle finger at a clump of socialites.

“Jeeze, hope nobody blew their allowance,” MJ retorts sarcastically. She’s tempted to get another drink, but more alcohol in her system isn’t going to help her get through this. It may, however, help her get over it afterwards, when she’s back in her apartment.

“Well, one of them’s hoping to blow more than their allowance,” Betty says with a knowing little cock of her head.

“Yikes, Betty, you speak to your grandmother with that mouth?”

Betty ignores her and takes a sip of the cranberry juice the bartender sets before her. She places the glass back on the bar, staring at it for a minute, before she winces―pre-regret, is the emotion MJ’s learned to identify the look as―and asks the bartender to add a splash of vodka.

“I have a lot riding on this,” she tells MJ after a heartier swig of her newly-adult drink.

“I know you do,” MJ replies in a softer tone.

“The event was my big idea and I didn’t think my editor would go for it and now we’ve done so much promotion and if it doesn’t work out...” She turns sharply to her friend. “Do you think it won’t work out?”

“It’s already working out. You got a great turnout. Hell, you got me here.”

“You’re my emotional support though. You don’t count.”

“Ouch. Is that what you tell your fiancé when he comes to these things?”

“I wouldn’t have to. Ned would kill to be here. He’d be laughing his ass off. In, like, a supportive way,” Betty clarifies.

“Guess their friendship’s still strong then,” MJ mumbles. She frowns when the bartender removes her glass. Now she has nothing to do with her hands. She thumps her elbows onto the bar.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know it is. I know he’s still on your radar.”

“He is not. Besides his picture in your paper―”

“It’s not my paper,” Betty corrects, but she’s flattered. Tonight’s event should land her a promotion and that’s one step closer to the editor-in-chiefdom she’s striving to attain by 35. Though she’s still got six years to capture it, she loves to come in ahead of a deadline.

“―I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Well, you’ll see him tonight.”

“Will I?” MJ glances sideways at Betty. “Is he even here yet?”

“Fashionably late,” is her friend’s positive spin. “But it’s fine because I built a twenty-minute buffer into the schedule just in case.”

“You’ll need it. He’s allergic to punctuality.”

Betty sighs so loudly that MJ sits bolt upright.

“Can’t you even say his name?” she snaps.

“Are you ok? Do you need me to find you a paper bag to breathe into?”

“Shut up. God, what time is it?” Suddenly frantic, Betty checks her watch, twisting it around her wrist. She glances up at the stage, where a man in a generic black suit is stepping out to scattered applause. “He’s not supposed to start his speech for another fifteen minutes! Sorry, I have to…”

“Go on,” MJ encourages. “Boss them around. Sort it out.”

“If you see Peter arrive…”

“You’ll be alerted by my loud screeches of aversion,” she promises. Betty hesitates at that, so MJ gives her a gentle shove.

When the back of her friend’s pale pink gown disappears through the crowd, MJ rotates on her stool to observe the room. She still hasn’t said his name and she wishes she wasn’t so aware of it. It’s come out of Betty’s mouth a hundred times today. Besides that, it’s printed on signs around the room, along with his face―unmasked, naturally, to help move tickets. Good looks are always for sale and the newspaper Betty works for isn’t above leveraging that. The money raised by this event is for a good cause though, MJ has to allow that much. Two new clinics to service the city’s vulnerable homeless population, one staffing mental health professionals and the other a safe injection site as NYC combats the opioid crisis. It’d just be nice to attend a fundraiser that wasn’t somehow all about him.

She slips from her stool and realizes cutting herself off at one drink was a good idea; she has unforgivingly-high heels on tonight, the kind that make grown men cry, and her balance is still intact. MJ’s not using the intimidating height the shoes give her to compensate for the secret fear being here inspires. She’s not. Smoothing the front of the silky material of her pants, she lets them fall back into place before circling the room. There’s an art to it, moving through the wealthy strangers without actually mingling, and MJ thinks she’s gotten pretty good at making people scared to meet her eye... until a lackey from the mayor’s office steps directly in front of her and presses a leaflet, featuring the evening’s itinerary, into her hands. MJ sighs and slaps it down on the first tall cocktail table she passes. She doesn’t mean to look, but the white letters on a red background catch her eye: WIN A DATE WITH SPIDER-MAN! No thanks, MJ thinks, walking quickly away in search of Betty. I try not to make the same mistake twice.

Half an hour later, with the mayor’s long-winded speech running over before finally wrapping up, MJ watches her friend step up to the podium that’s just been vacated, clapping and beaming. It’s not her stressed smile either. Fuck. MJ exhales slowly. That smile says everything’s going smoothly, which tells her Peter’s here. Where is he? How did she miss him coming in? In spite of herself, she cranes her head around to look, not paying attention to Betty’s speech that thanks everyone for coming before shifting into introducing the guest of honour. She’s heard it before. Helped her friend practice. MJ was open to that kind of thing, weeks ago, before Betty pressganged-slash-guilted her into buying a ticket for the fucking Spider-Man lottery. She’s right though―they’ve sold thousands of tickets. She’ll never win. If she’s really lucky, Peter will never even know she was at this thing.

Which is definitely what she wants, MJ reminds herself, adjusting the lapels of the tightly tailored blazer she’s worn with no blouse underneath. For him to not notice her.

When Peter steps out from a side door with a big wave and a nervous smile, she’s deaf to the fanfare. Belatedly, she starts to clap, glancing around and dropping her hands when everyone else does. She doesn’t want to be the last idiot clapping. He’d spot her then for sure. As she watches him mount the low stage and let Betty guide him into position, MJ thinks he looks fairly anxious. Like, he looks nice, presentable, but unsure of himself. It’s the nicest suit she’s ever seen him wear, but his all-purpose one back in high school didn’t set a high bar.

He says a few words, voice coming out high at first as his eyes dart around the crowd (MJ steps slightly behind a very tall man and tells herself she isn’t hiding), then Betty takes over again, lightly touching his arm and eloquently rescuing him while keeping her event on track. She’s exceptional, MJ thinks. Distinguished master-of-ceremonies and gregarious gameshow host at the same time. MJ couldn’t do this job, which is why she switched from journalism to a literary agency three years ago. She’s better at negotiating than pleasing, better at handling people one-on-one. Except for him. She sees Peter step to the side and try to look excited as Betty holds a red pail (ok, a little lame―one of the interns failed in prop acquisition) for the mayor to submerge his hand into and pluck out a name. MJ had him one-on-one, looking only at her, with no sea of people. She was fifteen, unaware of his secret identity that still was secret at the time, and things didn’t work out. People think dating a superhero is such a fantasy. Disappointment was the boring reality.

A name’s drawn and MJ starts clapping along with everyone else. It takes almost half a minute for her to realize the name was hers.

They want to get her on stage, but she balks. Betty makes an excuse into the microphone, something about MJ not wanting to take attention away from the evening’s mission. The fact that landing a date with Spider-Man wasn’t the evening’s sole mission might come as a shock to some of the whining voices around her. Normally, she’d glare at them or make a sarcastic comment about their noble motivations, but she can’t. First of all, she won’t jeopardize the success of Betty’s event. Second, her human wall has stepped aside and Peter’s looking at her. And MJ’s looking back. Betty gracefully wraps things up on stage, her diamond engagement ring catching the light stunningly to add glamour to her showmanship, and then she, the mayor, and Spider-Man himself are descending into the crowd.

Does she flee? Is this MJ’s one chance to run?

But no, Betty weaves through to find her and grabs her hand like she knows what her friend’s plotting.

“You have to find someone else,” MJ says hurriedly. “Draw another name.”

“I can’t. You won fair and square.”

“I didn’t want to win.”

“I know.” Neither of them are looking at each other; they’re both looking in the direction Peter will inevitably approach from when he escapes the impromptu meet-and-greet.

“Tell them I’m sick.”

“Wouldn’t work,” Betty says. “The date’s not tonight.”

“Tell them it’s the beginning of a prolonged and ultimately fatal sickness.”

“Not very on-brand for Spider-Man to skip out on a date with someone terminally ill.”

“I’ll make it extremely clear that it was my decision. Would you take a last-minute opinion piece on why I hate Spider-Man and publish it tomorrow?”

“Babe, you don’t hate Spider-Man, you just don’t forgive the people who hurt you.”

Betty’s assessment is presented so casually that it startles MJ. It’s absolutely accurate, but she’s horrified that she’s been so easy to read. That’s the problem with having close friends. They know you and on top of that, they bully you into entering contests to date your high school ex. She’s never making a friend again.

“Yeah, I know,” MJ sighs, and then Peter appears, shaking one last hand, before turning their way.

“I owe you, I owe you, I owe you,” Betty hisses. “Please don’t make a scene.”

People are looking. Jealous weirdos.

“Hey, MJ,” he says, eyes catching hers. She breaks that shit off immediately, looking up and away from him.

“I go by Michelle now.”

“She doesn’t,” Betty cuts in.

“Oh... ok,” Peter says with obvious and understandable confusion. “So, you wanna...?”

He goes to put a hand on MJ’s back and she dodges it.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demands.

He glances uncertainly from her to Betty and back.

“Betty said they’d need to take a picture of me with the, uh, winner.”

MJ laughs bitterly.

“This just keeps getting better.”

Betty mutters a reminder: “No scene.”

So she acquiesces, following Betty over to the spot she previously decided on for the photo, next to one of the signs for the event. MJ doesn’t let Peter touch or guide her and he doesn’t try again. A photographer―signaled by Betty―approaches and she tactfully poses her friends to make them look friendly without physical contact. Betty gestures for her to smile and, for her, MJ manages a brief closed-lipped one, standing stiffly at Peter’s side. She’s a little curious about what his face is doing; is he being Spider-Man, beaming and happy to be here, or is he as uncomfortable as she is and just faking it until this evening is over?

After a dozen rapid clicks of the camera, the photographer and Betty walk away, Betty seeming to tell him what else she’d like shots of. Peter can return to his adoring fans, but he hasn’t yet and with Betty occupied, MJ’s floundering for a polite way to excuse herself. She makes the mistake of meeting Peter’s eye and he gives her a soft smile.

“You look so good.”

Heart seizing, she turns and marches for the exit, leaving him standing there.

―

“Thanks for taking the time to say goodbye,” Betty says over the phone, sarcasm perky and damning.

MJ groans. She stretches out on her couch and mutes the TV. It’s the morning after the event and she’s unproductive, not that it has anything to do with seeing Peter last night.

“I’m sorry. I had to get out of there.”

“You know, I think you’re the only person in this city, aside from criminals, who runs the other way at the sight of Spider-Man.”

“I didn’t run.”

“You didn’t stick around either. Peter could’ve used you there.”

“I’m not even going to respond to that.”

“Look, MJ,” Betty sighs, “I’m on your side, but do you really think it’s impossible that he’s grown a little since high school?”

“I haven’t seen any proof of that,” MJ huffs. “What I remember is him always showing up late, if he showed up at all, and let me remind you that he was late last night.”

“It’s the nature of his work.”

“Sounds like you’re defending him and therefore on his side.”

“The world is on his side and not all of us are stubborn enough to disagree with seven and a half billion people!” Betty exclaims. “Fine, I am on Spider-Man’s side, as an admirer of the good things he does, but as a friend, I’m on your side. A hundred percent.”

“You’re still making me go through with this date, aren’t you?”

“I have all the details right here in front of me, if you―”

MJ hangs up. Betty will forgive her.

―

The date takes place in the middle of the day in Central Park. It’s been two weeks since Peter allowed himself to be auctioned off, which has meant two weeks of MJ pleading with an immovable Betty to find a replacement and about two hours of stoic acceptance (just this morning). The time and location were selected for them based on what would result in the best pictures. Oh yeah, there’s a photographer here again, ready to spend the next three hours (three hours?) trailing them around the park to take candid shots of their afternoon. The paper’s planning a big image gallery for their website. According to Betty, this follow-up to her event will be their main photo story of the summer. Fucking excellent. All MJ could really do to prepare was wear comfortable white sneakers and a light denim jacket in case a wind came up or something. She’s already regretting that, with the sun right overhead in the sky and the air totally still around her. She moves her hair off her neck and turns to the photographer.

“He’ll probably be late,” MJ warns.

She, like the photographer, was early. Wanting to get today over with, she paid more attention to her willingness to participate (which might not last) than to showing up a full forty-five minutes ahead of the scheduled time. If this was a normal date, that might look like enthusiasm. Peter, in contrast, probably forgot this is happening today. He’s probably asleep or off somewhere being... Nope, here he comes, bounding up the path. Why did MJ wear the jacket? She’s so overheated.

“Hi,” Peter greets the photographer first, shaking her hand. Perennial people-pleaser, she thinks, but she did the same when she arrived. It just feels so natural to be judgemental towards him.

“And is it MJ or Michelle today?” he asks her.

Ooh, there was a little bite to that and MJ raises her eyebrows at it, though, if anything, she’s impressed that Peter’s developed some measure of a backbone.

“Michelle,” she says. She doesn’t offer her hand. He doesn’t reach for it.

The photographer’s probably great at her job, she wouldn’t have been given this assignment otherwise, but patience must be her next best quality; MJ knows she and Peter aren’t making today easy for her. Things are tense between them, their body language is awkward, their attempts at conversation are worse. She’s done a great job at keeping him out of her life, despite their best friends being engaged, and she really doesn’t want to ruin that by talking about her work, her hobbies, her family, her apartment, her aspirations. None of it. That doesn’t leave a lot and MJ isn’t encouraging Peter to share details of his life either. She’s spent such a long time striving to remain ignorant of everything Peter-related. Basically since they graduated high school.

The best photos of them will probably be at the pond, where they fed ducks and MJ felt her expression soften, if not quite break out into a smile. Then, there was the ice cream. There should be a few useable shots there, seeing as eating doesn’t require smiling, meaning MJ’s lack of a grin won’t seem odd. The best images will probably come from right after. MJ’s ice cream dripped on her jacket, which seemed like divine intervention at first―she finally had a reason to remove it that wouldn’t look like she was trying to get Peter to watch her take her clothes off―until he stealthily grabbed the jacket from her hand while she was trying not to dump the rest of her ice cream. He hasn’t given it back. Probably looks so fucking chivalrous, carrying it around for her and all MJ can do is feel exposed and too aware of her bare shoulders in her green tank top. The self-consciousness makes her grouchy and there’s still an hour of this date to go.

“Michelle, I know you don’t want to be here,” Peter informs her while the photographer’s a short distance away, changing out her memory card, “but this isn’t about you. You could at least try a little bit.”

Her face floods with angry heat.

“I don’t want to be here? Neither do you. You wish I was anybody else.”

His head jerks back.

“What? No, I don’t. If anything, I’m relieved.”

“Are you?” MJ’s suspicious.

“Well, I was when the mayor picked your name. I thought it might be nice to catch up with you rather than have to entertain some rich stranger. You don’t know how exhausting that is.”

She laughs and he spins towards her, clearly upset.

“Why do you have to react like that, like what I do is a joke?”

MJ holds up her hands.

“I’m sorry being with me is so tiring for you. I guess that’s why you were never around when we were supposed to be together.”

“We’re talking about high school now? You know why I missed dates.”

“Or showed up late, or left early,” she continues for him.

“Nobody knew then, dammit! I was all on my own, trying to be me and Spider-Man and, at the time, being him felt more important. Now, I can apologize for that, but I can’t fix it.”

MJ snorts.

“Would you even want to?”

“MJ,” he says, giving up on calling her by her full name, “we were fifteen.”

“And that means what? That it wasn’t a real relationship?”

A laugh bursts out of Peter that the photographer may have caught because MJ can hear her snapping photos of them again. Hopefully, she can’t see the wounded, incredulous look on MJ’s face from that angle.

“It means I was crazy about you and I had no idea what I was doing.”

“You could’ve told me about Spider-Man,” she says, lowering her voice and smoothing her expression as the photographer circles them.

“I kept trying to figure out how,” he admits. She studies his face in silence for a few seconds. “You dumped me before I could.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t very much fun being ignored.”

“I know. That’s been my life ever since.”

MJ rolls her eyes.

“Please. You aren’t ignored.”

“I meant by you.”

She opens her mouth but finds herself shaking her head instead of speaking.

“MJ...” Peter starts.

“Don’t,” she tells him. “Not... right now.”

MJ starts walking again, but not before seeing his eyes turn hopeful at the way she left things open. Peter skips to her side. They look sideways at each other and the atmosphere feels suddenly lighter. It’s been a long time, but also, maybe not so long. It pleases and terrifies her to see that he’s still Peter, even with the fame he’s gained over the years.

“Would you want to have dinner?” he asks quietly. “I think it’s pretty obvious that we have some things to sort out.”

She eyes him, wary.

“When?”

“Tonight?” Peter proposes. “Why not, right? I don’t know what these last two weeks have been like for you, but I don’t want to have to do that again. Sit around and wonder what you were thinking and how you could possibly still be so mad at me.”

MJ’s already told him she won’t get into that again at the moment, but now that he’s offering her an opportunity, she’s unsure if she wants to discuss their history at all. Maybe fourteen years later is still too soon.

“I’m wearing shorts,” she says, like that’s a feasible excuse. Peter looks down as if to confirm that.

“It’s not like I’ve never seen your bare legs before. MJ, come on,” he laughs when she strides away over the grass.

What is this looking like to the photographer? Playful? Adventurous? God, MJ doesn’t envy her or the person who’ll write the story, trying to weave a narrative out of this.

“You can go home first and change.”

“And where am I meeting you?” she asks, like she’s considering the idea.

“My place? Because it’s private,” he explains quickly at the look on her face. “I assumed you would’ve had enough of being watched for one day. If we went to a restaurant or something, everyone would stare.”

Ok, that’s reasonable, she supposes. She still doesn’t rush to agree.

“Just to talk?”

“Just to talk,” Peter confirms, jumping ahead of her and walking backwards so she’s forced to look at him. “I can make dinner too. What do you like? I have to buy groceries anyway.”

MJ halts.

“I’m not picky.”

“That means pasta, unless you say otherwise. Remember, I was raised by an Italian woman.”

“Fine.”

“Ok.”

Peter nods and gets out of her way so they can walk side by side again.

“By the way, all I meant by the leg thing was that I’ve seen you wear shorts before.”

He’s grinning. Such a little liar. MJ laughs loudly, surprising herself.

“Yeah, sure, Parker.”

They walk along in companionable silence for a few minutes, running down the clock on this date. Suddenly, Peter’s head tips towards her and he mumbles something. She asks him to repeat himself.

“Can I touch you now?”

“What?”

“Like, touch your back or hold your hand. Just so whoever puts this article together has something to work with.”

Yes, it’s the same thing she was thinking a little while ago, so she should agree to it, but she was also thinking that before he made another reference to her bare legs, and all the implication behind that comment. Would she say the fact that he brought it up surprises her? Yes. (Does that night still cross his mind?) Would she say there’s any sexual tension between them now because of it? Of course not. (Is she the only idiot here who just realized the feelings she swore she buried before junior year were in a very shallow grave?)

“Gimme my jacket back,” she says. When he does, she sighs and offers her hand in exchange.

―

“Theoretically,” MJ says, hunching and twisting to check her pinned-back hair in the bedroom mirror she hung a little low, “what would you wear to a first date at a guy’s apartment?”

Betty’s gasp comes across loud and clear on speakerphone.

“MJ, you have another date today? I know the one with Peter was technically fake, sorry to all the readers who are definitely going to ship the two of you, but don’t you pace yourself? I had no clue your dating life was so, um, active that you had to squeeze two in on the same day. And don’t tell me how that sounded. I hear it now.”

“None of that was advice.”

“You don’t really want my advice. I bet you’re already dressed. You just needed an excuse to call me because you’re nervous and too proud to ask me for a pep talk.”

“Ok, stop making me feel so fucking transparent!”

“Who’s the guy?” Betty wants to know. “What do we know about him? First date at his apartment, that’s―”

“It’s Peter.”

“I’m sorry, did you just say it’s Peter?”

“Yes, it’s Peter, so you don’t have to worry about me going over to his apartment.”

“But... how do you know where it is?” She can almost see her friend’s panicked expression.

“He texted it to me.”

“He has your phone number?”

“Why do you say that like it’s the most scandalous part of this situation? We exchanged numbers at the park this afternoon.” MJ steps back, still studying her reflection. She’s done the top half of her hair up and it looks pretty even.

“Right, at the park, on the date that you said would be the first and last time you cross paths this decade.”

“Maybe it’s like Cinderella and we get an unlimited number of meetings until midnight.”

“What if you stay later than midnight?”

“No reason to,” MJ assures her. “We’re just going to talk for a bit and eat, I don’t know, spaghetti or something.”

“Romantic.”

“Only if you’re a couple of dogs in a Disney movie.”

“Ok, now I’m curious,” Betty confesses. “What are you wearing to this absolutely not earth-shattering spaghetti dinner? If you say jeans, I’m staging an intervention.”

“Why not jeans?”

MJ says it to provoke her, reaching awkwardly around to fasten the hook at the top of her dress’s zipper.

“I love jeans,” her friend says, “but this isn’t a jeans occasion.”

“No?”

“MJ, quit it. Promise me you’re wearing something nice.”

“Don’t worry, Mom, I’m wearing something nice.”

“Good. Put some condoms in your purse.”

“Betty!”

“Just one condom? MJ, it’s always better to be pre―”

MJ hangs up on her again. She’ll have to make up for this one.

―

His apartment isn’t what she was expecting. It isn’t a dump, but… Peter (or at least his alter ego) has to be one of the most renown living New Yorkers. MJ was picturing a space somewhere between ‘tasteful showroom of a modern furniture store’ and whatever the Spider-Man equivalent of Paris Hilton’s interior design sense is―red instead of pink and framed pictures of himself everywhere. This place isn’t any nicer than hers. Actually, it’s a little shabbier around the edges. She must have left her poker face at home because Peter (who, in her experience, is largely oblivious to her feelings) seems to know exactly what she’s thinking.

“I give most of it away,” he calls to her from the kitchen. He paused in his cooking to let her in, but he’s back at it while she tours his cramped living room.

“Give what away?”

He laughs.

“Whatever they try to give me. Free stuff, prize money for being chosen as Hero of the Year or something. I don’t know. I stopped paying attention. I just donate everything.”

“Are you trying to come off all noble and shit?” she accuses. She’s smirking though, with her back to the kitchen.

“No, just trying to guess at the questions you want answered. You don’t do much of your thinking out loud, you know that?”

“Why should I?”

She picks up a framed photo of Peter and Ned at the beach. When she sets it back down, she notices that the one beside it, clearly from the same day, is a shot of Peter and Betty doing a synchronized leap on the sand; Ned must be the photographer. What makes her almost knock it off the shelf is her jerky reaction to seeing Peter in nothing but swim trunks. With a surreptitious glance in Peter’s direction, MJ steadies the frame and steps away, face hot. Yeah, she’s seen his body before―when they were teenagers. Another decade and a half as a career ass-kicker and justice-bringer hasn’t exactly hurt his physique.

Ok, so he looks like a damn underwear model. Whatever. MJ can compartmentalize that and move on.

Joining him in the kitchen, she toys nervously with the box she brought. There’s a chocolate cake inside and she’s too wound up from nerves to be able to tell if it was the right thing to get. Is it too childish, like she sees this evening as some kind of Sixteen Candles throwback to the romance of their youth? Is it too decadent, like she’s trying to show up Peter’s cooking skills? God, she doesn’t know. MJ starts to wipe her clammy hands on her dress before spinning and hiding them behind her back instead as she leans backward into the counter to watch him.

She doubts this guy has experience cooking for an audience (and secretly, she’s relieved at the thought that there hasn’t been a parade of hookups through here). There’s food on his short-sleeved button-down, utensils gripped desperately in both hands, and his feet are bare. Not that it’s a problem, in his own home, it’s just weirdly vulnerable. Although, MJ’s are bare too. It’s summer and she wiggles her toes freely, anxiously, wanting to both have something to do and to stand here observing him without getting involved. Being in Peter’s apartment is already so involved.

“Can you grab the bowls for me?” he suddenly requests and MJ jerks, realizing she’s been staring at the way his shirt hugs his shoulders.

She does it without replying, retrieving the bowls from where Peter points and handing them off with a civil little nod. The closer she is to him, the quieter she seems to get. It feels wrong and like the complete opposite of what happened earlier today. This is her opportunity for closure, isn’t it? If this is really the end, like she told Betty it would be, then that’s why she’s here tonight; they’ll hash things out and spend the rest of their lives peacefully keeping their distance―as opposed to maintaining it irritatedly, the way MJ’s been doing. Why else would she have come?

“Aw man,” Peter sighs as he dishes up their food. He’s just noticed the stains on his shirt.

“Yeah, you were a bit of a hurricane in there.”

“Sorry,” he says, setting the bowls on his tiny kitchen table, “I’ll… I’ll just… You can start eating. I’ll be right back.”

MJ’s going to refuse for the sake of good manners, but her mouth closes almost as quickly as she opens it because Peter starts unbuttoning his shirt faster than he turns away. She almost knocks over her water glass. He might be the one with food on his clothes, but she’s a fucking mess tonight. Quickly, she averts her eyes as he stumbles to the door that must conceal his bedroom, presumably for a fresh shirt. She can only try to calm her heartrate and twist her bowl back and forth on its placemat in his absence. Conclusions. Endings. Closure. Renewed attraction, MJ thinks―staring down into the colourful splay of thin sauce, vibrant vegetables, and bright seafood―is not on the table.

And it really might have worked out the way she planned if Peter had redressed completely in his room, instead of walking out still pulling his t-shirt down. Instead of shuffling towards her as he tugged it into place. Instead of catching her staring at his naked stomach.

She’s flustered by being caught, hands fluttering over her silverware, and by the feeling of him looking at her. Why is he doing that? To make sure she knows he caught her? She’s embarrassed enough. When she reminds herself that she’s a successful, independent adult and not the teenage girl whose heart was broken gradually by neglect, she has the strength to glance up. He isn’t looking at her anymore. They eat dinner like regular people. If anything, they’re more courteous versions of themselves, skimming the details of the personal lives they didn’t discuss earlier in the day. He’s curious about her job; she asks after his aunt, her last memory of whom is a smiling face behind a camera on graduation day. This must be part one of how this goes: catching up.

Towards the end of dinner, when chewing has loosened MJ’s face enough to let the smiles slip out and the wine Peter eventually remembered to open has added more colour to his cheeks than their afternoon in the sun, they slide smoothly into part two: reminiscence. They’re not drunk, there’s just something awfully tempting about the freckles strewn across his nose. Self-policing the way she’s drawn to him makes MJ gawky and making conversation gets dicey. One minute it’s football games and decathlon practices, the next it’s the dates he missed and the passive-aggressive responses she gave him. He’s wounded, she’s flippant. He all but orders her to stay seated while he clears the table; she tosses her hair over her shoulder and swishes out of her chair to get the cake.

“You could’ve called me to say you weren’t coming,” MJ snaps, trying to unknot the ribbon securing the box. She presumed it was purely decorative; it turns out to be shockingly sturdy. “One of those times. Any of those times. But you just… never showed up.”

“I was preoccupied. I was saving people, on my own,” he retorts. She hears the dishes clatter into the sink. “I thought you were the one person I wouldn’t need to explain myself to.”

“I didn’t need a justification, Peter, but it would’ve been nice to know why you were never there.”

“Yeah, and it would’ve been nice if you could’ve been a little less selfish.”

His words land like a slap and she spins around. Likely spotting her movement from the corner of his eye, he turns from the sink opposite, bracing his hands behind him.

“I was selfish?” she echoes. “Because I was fifteen and naïve enough to think that when I finally let somebody in, they’d do the same and be there for me?”

“A lot of people needed me!” Peter insists. His chest is heaving.

“What have they ever given you in return?” she demands. “Money that you won’t take? Awards you can’t use? A date―” She laughs and gestures to herself, hands sweeping her body. “―you sure as hell never asked for?”

“That’s not nothing.”

“It is nothing! I gave you everything!” MJ shouts at him. The roar of it doesn’t stop her so much as convince her that she’s started something she can’t stop. “I went home with you after that party because your aunt wasn’t going to be there. Because you told her you were spending the night at Ned’s.” It’s controlled fury in her voice now and Peter doesn’t try to halt the recitation. “We were so shy with each other that we barely managed to hold hands in public, but I fucking felt something that night, so I got on your bed and said I was ready and when I woke up afterwards, you were gone.”

“There was an emergency,” Peter murmurs.

“Oh yeah?” Her voice isn’t loud, but it flicks out like a whip. “What was it? Can you remember? Do you remember it better than you remember us taking each other’s virginities because, honestly, Peter, I think my memory of realizing I’d been left all alone in that apartment is stronger than what happened before that.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that.”

“So it’s nice, actually,” she continues sarcastically, “if us having sex only comes in second place for you too.”

“Of course it doesn’t.”

“I. Don’t. Believe. You.” Well, she hasn’t cried, so that’s something. She points beside him, hand shaking slightly, at the black block holding a selection of knives. “Pass me a knife.”

“What? No.”

“It’s to get the stupid cake box open. Pass me a fucking knife!”

Peter pushes away from the sink, hard, and holds her eye as he nudges her out of the way and snaps the ribbon with his hands. She’s breathing heavily.

“I don’t know if you like chocolate ca―”

“No,” he says firmly. “We’re not done talking about this. You hurt me. I never meant to leave you there, ok? I came back and you were gone and then the next day you dumped me. It tortured me that I left. It seemed like I was doing the right thing, going out to help people, but how could the right thing have made me lose you? I thought about that night constantly. Not the part where I walked out on you or you walked out on me, but the good part, and I felt guilty about that, like… like I wasn’t supposed to enjoy it? Because it must’ve been wrong since things went downhill for us so fast after that.”

“A mistake,” MJ summarizes. Voice flat. Dead, even. All these years she’s kept that memory and meanwhile, he’s been thinking it never should’ve happened.

“It wasn’t the mistake. I was.”

As mad as she is, she can’t let Peter put this on himself. It just wouldn’t be factual.

“You couldn’t be a mistake. It’s not in your DNA.”

“I never felt like that again,” he admits, offering her something in return for her reassurance. “The way I did the night we were together.”

“You haven’t had sex since then?”

“Oh, no, I have, it’s just never had the same…”

“I know,” she sighs and ignores the look he darts at her. She can’t stop him from replying though.

“Your sex life’s missing something too?”

“That is absolutely none of your fucking business.”

MJ flips the cake box open and crosses to the knife block, extracting a blade with a smug smile. She returns and slices the cake cleanly.

“Plates, please,” she instructs.

“You asked me first,” Peter points out.

“I didn’t make you answer.”

They are not talking about this, she will not talk about this. Not when she’s seen too much of his skin and they’ve finally dumped some of the baggage they’ve been lugging around this hellish airport of a somewhat-grown-up life. No, she’s far too attracted to him right now, with his glorious abs and his emotional intelligence. MJ is going to serve the cake and secure herself some goddamn closure.

“I just think it’s interesting,” Peter observes. He leans on the counter beside her. Sonofabitch, look at those forearms. “That neither of us has experienced anything like that with anybody else.”

With the flat of the blade, she lifts a slice and lays it on its side on the plate he lazily holds up for her.

“Probably just a numbers thing,” she says lightly.

“Meaning we are gonna have sex like that again?”

“Not with each other. Don’t get your hopes up, Parker.”

He grins and she realizes that, in the process of attempting to dissuade him, she might’ve just flirted with him. Completely by accident. MJ rolls her eyes and gets her own piece of cake. With a jerk of his head, Peter leads her over to his couch. When she sits at the far end, he doesn’t try to get too close, taking the other end. They spend a couple of minutes eating. She’s relieved that the cake’s good and that he seems to like it. He did a nice job on dinner.

“I’m a little embarrassed about the t-shirt,” Peter says eventually. She glances over and he looks down at his chest. The temperature’s changed again though; he isn’t being coy or suggestive, just genuinely humble. “I should own more dress clothes, but… I don’t really have an excuse.” He laughs. “I don’t really like them.”

“You’re fine. You’ve always been a t-shirt guy. Maybe this is an ‘if it ain’t broke’ situation.”

“You look really pretty.”

MJ blushes and feels silly about it. Her eyes drop to her plate and she watches herself push chocolate frosting around before piling it up on the cake she has left.

“I think I might be too old for ‘pretty.’”

“Bullshit.” Peter edges nearer and she looks up at him to see him pointing his fork at her. “You’re not too old to be called pretty and I’m not too old to be excited over chocolate cake.”

“It’s good, right?” she agrees with a smile.

“When you opened that box, I just about lost my mind.” He grins at her. “If we hadn’t been fighting when…”

MJ frowns when he trails off.

“What is it?” Her shoulders fall slightly. “Did you sense something? Do you have to go?”

“Unless there’s a meteor headed for Earth, I’m letting the cops handle things tonight,” he promises. “You just… you have chocolate on your lip.”

He traces the spot on his own face and she wipes at hers. Without Peter touching her to do it himself, this shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but the other thing he said won’t let her move on.

“Why should I believe that?” MJ asks. There’s no nastiness in her tone. She sets her empty plate aside and after the final bite of his cake, Peter copies her.

“Because I learned my lesson about priorities really, really well a long time ago.” He shifts closer again and she angles her knees towards him, heart clamoring.

“Are you sure?”

“I think so,” he tells her, face full of honesty. “I’ve never officially tested it because…” Peter shrugs. “…there was never another you.”

“She could be out there.”

“There’s only you,” he says softly, shaking his head. MJ didn’t quite notice when the space between them disappeared, but his hand is gentle on the side of her neck. “And you’re right here.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I just happen to take my fake dating responsibilities very seriously.”

“This one isn’t fake.” His fingers slide around to the back of her neck.

“I’ll have to update Betty,” MJ says with airy thoughtfulness as her gaze dips to Peter’s mouth.

“I think you might still have some frosting on your lip…”

Apparently, he can still be as much of a cheesy idiot as he was at fifteen and she’d smile if she wasn’t so terrified. Their lips brush lightly, then Peter seals them together, holding her fast. She cries out a little at his certainty. That’s what it feels like, but certainty in what? In his kissing abilities? In them, here together? MJ isn’t sure where she stands on that issue, only that it’s far from where she started this evening, with her self-delusions on closure and walking out of this apartment either more at peace or completely unchanged. So much for those possibilities. She hadn’t accounted for what their second first kiss would feel like.

They aren’t kids anymore, so she can skip the tentative shit.

MJ grabs his face with both hands, fingers curling beneath his jaw, and kisses him back with a greedy feverishness. There, let him see what she wants. If he rejects her, he rejects her. He’ll never do worse to her than he already has. But Peter doesn’t ease off, doesn’t try to backtrack to a scrubbed-clean Disney kiss that compresses romance to two dimensions. He lets go of her neck and grabs her by the hips, hauling her forward. She takes his shoulders and settles her knees on the couch on either side of him. Right away, he pulls her down and she doesn’t resist, grinding in his lap with her dress accordioned between them. Peter’s hand finds the edge of her skirt and snakes up her inner thigh to cup her over her underwear. In the same motion, he rubs his fingers against her through the lace. She breaks the kiss wetly and pants next to his ear.

“I wanna take you to my bedroom now,” he tells her, still rubbing while she rubs right back, seeking the friction with a jerk of her hips, “unless there’s some other way you want tonight to go.”

“No, I think we definitely better fuck.”

With that unambiguous assent, Peter hitches her hips against his and stands up with his hands secure beneath her ass and thigh. MJ wraps her legs around him and crosses her ankles.

So, this is Peter at 29. His feet slap the floor of his apartment and their mouths meet over and over with passion and imprecision. He makes it from the living room and into the kitchen without hitting anything; the air smells like dinner as they pass through and what wine the pasta in her belly hasn’t absorbed makes her press her abdomen against his cock while she’s still in his arms. He shoves her to the nearest wall and rocks hard between her thighs, squeezed close by her heels digging into his firm ass. At this point, MJ doesn’t particularly care if they do this on a horizontal surface. There’s a lot stoking this fire and while there wasn’t this much heat in their history (they had sex one time and it was gentle, caring, unhurried), the small flame’s kept burning all these years, ready to be fanned high at the first opportunity.

Peter gathers her against him and heads for his bedroom instead. His willpower’s something, with how fucking solid he is in the front of his jeans. (Jeans, Betty! MJ thinks. Goddamn double standard.) He doesn’t stop to turn on a light―taking her right to his bed and never letting her go as he lays her back―but the late summer sun provides a fading glow through his window and the door he didn’t shut behind them lets warm light spill in from the kitchen. MJ’s breathing hard as her hands, trembling with impatience, peel the t-shirt off of the adult boy she knew. Briefly, he hoists her hips to remove her underwear. She’s embarrassed when he draws them down her legs with a look of realization on his face and holds them up for the light to shine through the lace.

“Even with the denial, it didn’t seem impossible that we might end up here,” MJ offers before Peter can comment. She sighs and admits the rest. “I also have a condom in my purse.”

“We won’t need it.”

He dives down, kissing her neck as his hands smooth her dress up her thighs. With her knees bent, it doesn’t take much to make the material pool at her hips. But MJ pushes at his shoulders and Peter lifts his head.

“Like hell are we not using a condom.”

“No,” he says, expression earnest (there’s his face the first time he asked her out), “I just meant we won’t need the one you brought. I, uh, I didn’t only buy groceries before you came over.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?” Peter grins down at her. She nods.

“That means I’m not the only one who…” Felt something. Hoped for more. MJ can’t quite say that yet, so she shrugs and moves on. “Also means I don’t have to go get my purse.”

He agrees by returning his mouth to her throat, sucking until she gasps, then bucking his hips into hers to make her moan.

“Stay right here.”

“Mmm,” she consents, scraping her fingers through his hair.

Noticing him leaning into the sensation, MJ closes her hand into a fist and gives his hair a tug. Peter groans against her neck and wraps his arms around her. With his hands wedged under her back, she can feel him hunting for her dress’s zipper. She’s lying on top of it and there’s the little hook to fiddle with. It's not that she doesn’t think he can figure it out―it’s that she doesn’t want to wait that long.

“Let me do it,” she murmurs, tapping his arms this time to get him to lift off of her.

He looks dazed when he does, flinging himself to the side, which leaves MJ temporarily leaning back with her skirt up and no underwear on. This is completely not how she saw today turning out. It does make her pause and think for a second, to see if this feels wrong or thoughtless or otherwise emotionally harmful to the person she might go back to being when it’s over. Maybe if she waited longer, her inner voice would say something else, but there’s a consensus of tens from the judges (her brain, heart, and vagina) that she should absolutely nail Peter Parker. If they didn’t share this history and he was a guy she met through mutual friends or a dating app who held off on disappointing her long enough for them to get here, would she sleep with him? With those eyes and that ass, yeah, why not? Maybe the rockiness of their mutual past should make this feel worse, but, in this moment, it feels better. It feels like that thing from fourteen years ago. And this time around, she has a confidence in her body that she couldn’t even see on the horizon at fifteen.

MJ scrambles off the bed and turns to look at Peter. On his back with his shirt off in the dying light, he could be selling an expensive cologne. He’s probably been approached. The obvious bulge in the front of his jeans makes it a little racy for ads though. She’ll just have to appreciate it on behalf of Spider-Man fans everywhere. After all, she’s the one who won a date with him.

“The condoms are… where?”

Peter points to his nightstand and her hand hovers in front of the drawer with a second of hesitation. What if there’s some kind of raunchy sex toy in here and she’s about to find out that his bedroom escapades with other women are not something she’s prepared to compete with. Or what if there’s a photo of another ex-girlfriend? She hasn’t had the right to feel possessive of him for a small eternity, but seeing some other woman’s smiling face would be a blow. MJ opens the drawer. Besides the unopened box of condoms, she sees a travel pack of Kleenex, a cord for a cellphone or a tablet, and a couple loose aspirin that he should at bare minimum be keeping in a container, if not in a bathroom medicine cabinet. Overall, she’s relieved. It’s the sort of stuff she would’ve expected if she hadn’t spent the years since high school trying to hate him. She gets the box open and tosses him a condom that he’s alert enough to snatch out of the air. Then, MJ turns to face away from him as she reaches back to unfasten the hook.

“Wait,” he says when she starts on the zipper.

Somehow, she knows what he wants. She drops her hands and takes a step back towards the bed, drawing her hair over her shoulder and twisting it around her hand. Soon, Peter’s hands land on the middle of her back before he lowers the zipper. MJ can hear him breathing. With that done, she shuffles the straps off her shoulders and lets the dress slip to the floor like an exhale. She didn’t wear a bra.

She turns and climbs on top of him. Their kisses are sloppy and demanding and Peter’s got one hand between her legs with the other groping her breast in about a second flat. He discovers how wet she is―it’s wetter than she gets for just anybody―and plunges two fingers inside her, which is really distracting since she’s trying to get his jeans open. Giving in for a minute, MJ holds Peter by the back of his neck, lets her head fall back, and pumps up and down on his fingers while he swears like she’s never heard him swear. No, they never could’ve produced this at fifteen.

Forcing herself to remember that she could have his dick instead, she rides his fingers more shallowly and refocuses on his button and zipper. On the downside, he removes his hand to help her get his jeans and boxers off (Peter, she thinks, you still wear boxers?), but on the upside, those same hands get the condom on with speed and precision. Carefully, she removes the pins that have started to become snarled in her hair and tosses them backwards. Sounds like they skate across his nightstand and fall onto the floor. She isn’t concerned at the moment.

“You like being on top or do you wanna be on the bottom?” he asks, sagged back with his elbows propping him up and MJ perched on his thighs.

“Let’s not ask,” she suggests.

Normally, that isn’t what she’d say at all. She’s big on telling her partner what she does and does not like. Even if it’s someone she’s been with a few times, sex can be a bit of an interaction―you do this for me, I’ll do that for you―with the end goal of both parties walking away sexually satisfied. She wants more from Peter than an orgasm. Not being able to say that out loud doesn’t negate it. She trusts his intuition and, more than that, she trusts this thing between them. Whatever it is, MJ’s leaving everything to it. She’s surrendering control because the thought of cutting this up with questions to make it fit the mould of what sex is like with anyone else makes her sick. She takes a slow breath and speaks again.

“Let’s just… be here.”

He’s nodding so maybe she didn’t sound stupid, or just not stupid to him.

“Ok,” Peter agrees softly. “I’m not gonna fuck it up this time.”

She can’t ask whether that’s a promise to her or to himself because he sits up abruptly to meet her lips with his. As he fills her mouth with his tongue, she relaxes into him, draping her arms around his shoulders and shifting her hips forward. She can feel his cock, rigid and hot. MJ starts lifting up, hinting for Peter to slip inside her, but he flips her onto her back to continue blowing her mind with the desire in this French kiss. He holds his hips back to leave space for his hand to once again work two fingers into her, this time also using his thumb to play with her clit. She’s woozy with how good he makes her feel. Just when the kiss has her thinking they’re slowing things down (and the kiss is getting particularly dirty now, making her clench around his fingers), Peter brings her to climax by sneaking a third finger into her channel and curling all three in a sudden stab at her g-spot. Gasping against his mouth, MJ breaks the kiss, hips pitching onto his hand for almost a full minute from when the bliss first hits.

“Shit,” she breathes.

Peter laughs with disbelief as he draws back to look at her.

“That’s something I never thought I’d get to see again.”

“Yeah, lucky you,” MJ congratulates, smirking liquidly.

He seems ready to proceed beyond foreplay now, withdrawing his fingers and grasping her hip, but she decides to enjoy him a little more thoroughly first. She lets him settle between her legs without pressing inside and winds her fingers into his hair again as she nudges her mouth to his. Peter thrusts slowly along her wetness, making her legs quiver when he bumps her clit. Arching up, her chest skims his and she’s sure that, with a little bit of time, she could come a second time from the way he’s grinding against her and the rub of her nipples over the hard planes of his chest. Spider-Man looks good outside the suit.

When she tumbles him to the side, he goes willingly and matches her fleeting, sultry smile. MJ shifts her weight to encourage Peter all the way onto his back, then gets herself positioned on top of him, still riding his erection without taking him inside. She wonders what’s making her start to sweat―a failure of his air conditioning or the buzz that’s getting stronger with every pass along his sheathed erection. Bracing her hands on either side of his shoulders, she bends to kiss and lick across his chest, finding the same faint saltiness on his skin. He grabs her hips and guides her more forcefully along his cock. MJ’s moaning in short pants, Peter’s groaning brokenly. He rolls her onto her side and their legs tangle before he lifts her upper thigh to make room to fit his hips into the gap and, with their foreheads pressed together, push into her.

She has to close her eyes. Her body takes him in immediately, but her mind needs a little longer.

Peter doesn’t rush her, but he doesn’t back off entirely, the way he would’ve when they were a couple of kids hanging all their hopes on it turning out right. MJ’s not putting that kind of pressure on the sex this time around. Back then, part of how badly she wanted it was that she harboured this belief that being physical with him would fix things; it was finally a way to guarantee his focus was completely on her. For Peter, well, she can only guess, but maybe he needed to feel more grounded in himself when he was living so much of his life in secret as this whole other entity.

“You want me?” she asks him now, opening her eyes to observe his face, so close it’s blurry.

“Yeah, I want you.” Sensing her resolve, he thrusts harder and she makes her leg slack so he can hike it up onto his hip.

“You wanna be anywhere else?”

Peter shifts his head back and she becomes aware that they’re on the rumpled sheets of his unmade bed. It’s so familiar that her heart surges even before he stares her right in the eye.

“Nowhere else,” he swears.

She gives him a sharp nod before her tear ducts can get any ideas and kisses him fiercely, swinging her hips down to meet his upstroke. There’s a choked sound from Peter’s throat and he tips her onto her back with a mumbled, “Oh god, M.”

On her back, MJ reaches to grasp the edge of the mattress and Peter pounds into her. She’s tempted to shut her eyes and drown in the sensations, but she fights it to gaze at him. Initially, she thinks he’s like a machine; strong, efficient, accurate (fuck, he found her g-spot before and he’s hounding it ruthlessly now). On second thought, he is what he made himself; perceptive, considerate, real despite the persona that’s grown and grown and grown. The action figure it’d probably be easy to slink into the shadow of. It’s clear to her that he separates them better now and that somehow embracing his other identity is what allowed him to do that. And she wasn’t around for any of it. Has she just stepped back into his life now that it’s easier for her? MJ has to admit that, on some level, of course. That’s exactly what she’s done, but she didn’t plan it that way and the intervening years haven’t been smooth for her either―changing careers, struggling to stay present with partners, maintaining friendships only with the couple of people who wouldn’t let her dissolve from their lives. It seems to her that she’s ready to hang on at the very moment Peter’s ready to be hung onto. This already wasn’t supposed to happen. The draw she wasn’t supposed to win, the date that she tried to get Betty to find her a replacement for, the invitation to dinner, everything that spilled out between dinner and dessert, and finally, how they came together on his couch. Both of them making that choice.

MJ cries out, one hand dropping to grab his shoulder, then cup the back of his neck, her gaze roving the ceiling.

“You can shut your eyes,” Peter huffs, driving forward. “I’ve got you.”

She does. He has her. Twining her legs around the backs of his, MJ urges him forward blindly. Peter sucks her nipple, runs his mouth up the side of her neck until she shudders, then does it some more. His hand tilts her hips and he slides into her just that much better, striking the right spot with fiery fixation.

“Peter! Peterpeterpeter,” she chants. Her eyes open and his face is right above hers. She orgasms with a flinch that lifts her mouth to his. A new reflex―to kiss him.

His thrusts are short and quick as he finishes, humming against her mouth, a long M. She can’t believe she tried to make him call her by her full name. She’d rather hear ‘MJ’ from Peter, and she’s rather hear it just like this, his lips vibrating against hers, feeling all the years between them and yet, not feeling them at all.

#my writing #spideychelleweek2k20 #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 3 years

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If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Sixty

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 20th, 2002

Emile redid the math, looking over the numbers over and over again. It was possible. He’d have to be smart about investing money to get the extra funds he needed, and he’d have to skimp and save every last penny he could, but by the end of the year, he’d be able to buy a shop. If Remy agreed, they could make it so he could start his own shop. Emile would buy the property, but the rest could be all Remy’s.

There was the matter of getting this done without Remy being the wiser, however. If Remy caught on to what Emile was doing he’d insist that Emile save the money for something else. But if he got Remy to save his money, and Emile saved his own, they could do this. They could get Remy an epic origin story that rivalled the greats in the comics.

April 11th, 2002

Emile checked the time he had left on the computer at the library. It wasn’t a whole lot, but it should be enough. He had been looking into this off and on for months, saving away most of his extra funds that didn’t go to dates purely to fund this crazy adventure. He googled private investigators in the area, looking around to make sure Remy wasn’t nearby. He opened his email account and looked through the listings, finding the one he had looked up before and found good reviews from. He copied the investigator’s email address into the computer and composed a quick email, asking about discreteness and the rate that the guy charged.

He knew it might take a couple days for the guy to get back to him, so he logged off the computer and blew out a breath. He doubted the man would say no, and he had a good record of finding people who had supposedly dropped off the face of the Earth. But Emile still worried. After all, PI’s could get very expensive very quickly, and Emile didn’t have access to his trust fund until the third of May.

Determination still drove him to send the email, though. Emile knew that this could work. It might take a while, but it could be done. If anyone could find Toby, it was this Dice character. He had a good eye, and he knew how to use it to find a trail. The reviews Emile had found said as much, at any rate.

He walked out of the computer room with a sigh. He could come back tomorrow and see if Dice had replied, but Emile wished he didn’t have to wait in limbo.

Remy bounded over to him with excitement in his eyes, and Emile smiled. Remy was growing bouncier as time went on. The holidays were mere memories by this point, there were no huge, groundbreaking milestones to stress either of them out, it was just...quiet. They were free to be weird, to be excited, to be however they wanted. And Remy seemed to get bouncy whenever he found something he particularly liked, which tended to be a new recipe book, or an idea for coffee that Remy had never considered before. Sure, he would still get excited over comics, but there weren’t too many comics at the library, so Emile suspected it was one of the former things that had Remy hyped up. “What did you find this time, Rem?” Emile asked with a good-natured laugh.

“I found a book on the history of the uses of caffeine in the science section!” Remy exclaimed, dragging Emile to his table. “It’s super cool!”

“Since when do you browse the science section?” Emile asked.

“Since I was bored looking at mystery novels, wandered around, and ended up there. My eyes found this, and I’ve been taking a look through it, and it’s amazing! Did you know that caffeine is actually supposed to be a poison? That’s why you can’t feed it to animals! Humans are just weird enough that we can consume it and not get hurt!” Remy’s eyes lit up like fireworks on the fourth of July. “Like, science and history? Usually not my thing, if I go into nonfiction usually it means I’m looking for recipes, but this is so cool! Coffee beans have been used for centuries, if not millenia! How crazy is that?! Coffee comes all the way from Ethiopia, and now it’s used all over the world! It’s...I just...it’s so cool, Emile!”

“I know that,” Emile said, grinning. “Purely by your enthusiasm. I’ve never seen you this excited, not even over comics!”

“I never got to learn interesting things in school,” Remy said. “Even in college, I knew everything they were teaching me, but I never knew about this stuff before!”

Emile just nodded along patiently. “You know, if I had known you’d get this excited about learning things you wanted to learn about, I would have insisted we make regular trips to the library forever ago. Do you want to make them weekly, now?”

Remy’s eyes were wide. “Oh, could we? I doubt this is the only book about this sort of thing here, I bet I could find all sorts of cool stuff in the history section, and learn how they used to use coffee and the like in Ye Olden Times, maybe improve or work on some of those ideas until I can make them function, do you have any idea how cool that would be?!”

“It would be amazing,” Emile said with a laugh. “You know, though, you might have to save more of your money if you want to experiment with that sort of thing. We might not go out on so many dates.”

“I don’t care,” Remy breathed. “If I saved money, I could discover dozens of new recipes with good ingredients! I could almost open my own shop if I figured out those sorts of things!”

“That would be amazing,” Emile said with a grin. “Just remember, you don’t want to save up just enough to experiment and then not have any extra funds to repeat what you did and get that good sort of food again!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy agreed. “I’ll probably be saving up for several months, just to be sure.”

“Yeah, like...hold off until around...say, six months from now? Then experiment to your heart’s content. And don’t forget to keep track of what works and what doesn’t!” Emile said.

“I know, Emile, it’s my system,” Remy said, grinning.

“I know you know, but a reminder never hurts,” Emile said with a shrug. “Anyway, I’ve done what I came to do, papers are finished, research is done, and I even got to send out a couple emails to friends. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure,” Remy said, closing the book and leaving it on the table.

They walked out into the parking lot and Emile laughed as it started to rain. “April showers,” he said.

“We live in the city, Emile, how many May flowers can there possibly be?” Remy asked.

Emile shrugged. “The first half of the rhyme applies, at least,” he said. “Still want to head to the shelter today?”

“Can we at least drive and park nearby? I don’t want to get absolutely drenched in the walk from home there, and then dry off only to get drenched again on the walk back,” Remy said.

Emile rolled his eyes up in thought and his fingers twitched. “I’m not sure what parking lots are near the shelter, do you know?”

“Yeah, I know a couple,” Remy said.

“Cool,” Emile said, tossing Remy the car keys and getting in.

Remy fell into the driver’s seat and he stuck the keys in the ignition, but he didn’t move beyond that. Emile glanced over. “You good, Rem?”

“Yeah,” Remy said, starting to life and starting the car. “Just thinking.”

“About anything in particular?” Emile asked.

Remy turned slightly red. “Toby,” he admitted. “I’m just wondering what he would think about me doing these sort of things with you. If he’d approve.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Emile asked.

Remy sighed. “For all his protection and love, he still sometimes doesn’t understand certain things. Like, he gave me ‘The Talk’ when I told him I was gay. But he’d still make jokes in poor taste about gay or trans people. He understands that homeless people aren’t all homeless just because they’re lazy and can’t find a job, but he’s not proactive when it comes to helping them. He’s...not our parents, but he has some bad habits. Don’t get me wrong, I still love him! And he’s definitely gotten better the few times I would take him aside and explain why he shouldn’t say certain things. Fact remains that he’s got some views that aren’t...up to date.”

Emile didn’t know how to respond to that. Did that mean that Toby was actually like Remy’s parents? Did he hurt Remy, but Remy was so wrapped up in the fact that Toby kept him physically safe that he disregarded any emotional damage? “Do you think he’s capable of change? Realistically speaking.”

“Hm? Oh, yeah,” Remy agreed. “I’ve seen him change myself. From constantly making gay jokes when he was a kid to showing me compassion when I came out, all because one or two of his friends wound up being gay. He’s capable of change, for sure. He just...doesn’t always think about whether or not he should change if something doesn’t immediately affect him or the people he cares about. He’s not like my parents, Emile.”

“I never said he was,” Emile said.

Remy glanced at him. “I know you were thinking about it, though. It’s not a big deal, you’re concerned for me and you didn’t directly call Toby a bad person. You checked to make sure he wasn’t like my parents before making a decision. I appreciate that.”

Emile nodded. “Of course. I try not to make snap judgements about people, but I did realize I made more snap judgements than I thought, especially when we talked about your parents. Now, I try and make it a point to gather information to make an informed decision, rather than just listening to one side of the story and making plans and expressing feelings based only on that.”

“Huh,” Remy said. “You’re capable of change, too. Nice to know.”

“Did you think I wasn’t?” Emile asked, confused.

“Not particularly,” Remy said, “But it’s always nice to have confirmation.”

Emile nodded, and when Remy parked in a lot that was just a block from the shelter, Emile arched his eyebrows. “I didn’t realize this lot was that close,” he said.

“This may be a city, Emile, but it’s a small one. I know my way around it pretty well,” Remy said, getting out of the car.

Emile grabbed Remy’s hand as they walked to the shelter. “One of the many things I love about you,” Emile said. “You’re incredibly smart.”

“I’m not,” Remy said, turning red. “I know how to use a checkbook, but that’s about it.”

“You’re smart with numbers, and with food, and you enjoy learning, just not conventionally,” Emile said. “You’re sharp, Rem, don’t sell yourself short.”

“Look, Emile, I can’t make a career out of any of those things. And before you mention there are lots of jobs where you need to be good with numbers, I’m not becoming an accountant.”

Emile laughed. “I wasn’t going to suggest that,” he said. “You’d die of boredom doing someone else’s financials within weeks. And I like you alive, thank you very much.”

Remy shook his head with a grin. “I don’t know what you see in me, Emile.”

“A brilliant man with a heart of gold who just has a little problem with expressing himself,” Emile said. “Someone who cares for people once he gets to know them, but is also pragmatic in how, exactly, he goes about helping those in need of advice. You make sure that you’re taken care of before you help others, and you keep my bleeding heart in check. You’re my partner in crime, my partner in general, and I couldn’t be happier about that fact.”

Remy was as red as a tomato and he groaned. “Emile,” he complained. “I can’t be blushing when we get to the shelter, it’ll ruin my cool image!”

Emile laughed. “Rem, since when have you ever had a cool image there? You may be the top chef, but all the kids know you’re smitten for me, the adults know that you can help with financials and will at the drop of a hat if they merely ask. They know you’re nice.”

“Nice and cool are not mutually exclusive,” Remy retorted. “The kids have called me cool before, but if I show up with a huge blush over my face, they might see through the ruse!”

“And what would they see if they saw through it?” Emile asked.

“A gay disaster,” Remy deadpanned.

Emile burst out laughing. Remy always knew exactly what to say.

#if there's a place i could be #sanders sides fanfiction #remile #emile picani #ts sleep

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