#i could not stop thinking about the OVER iterations last week. i hope they had a nice road trip

[froget-me-nots]

you came to take us (all things go)

#caption from chicago by sufjan stevens (i love that song so bad) #i could not stop thinking about the OVER iterations last week. i hope they had a nice road trip #woe.begone #woe.begone spoilers #i wouldnt call this “finished” but im trying to be less picky about that these days #my art :D

[winchesterandpie]

Versions of You

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x wife!reader

Word Count: 2133

Warnings: sooo self indulgent, soft Bradley, some reminiscing of Carole and Goose, brief mention of periods, brief implication of sex, but nothing explicit

A/N: Y'all, I have had this idea floating in my head since I first started writing for Bradley Bradshaw. I've tried writing it, went through several iterations of a beginning and it just wasn't right and my skill wasn't up to it. Over the past week, though, I finally think I got the feeling right. I think this may be some of my best writing, so I really hope you all enjoy!

Before he met you, Bradley thought he knew what love looked like. 

He had watched his mother love his father, even when Goose was gone. He had been too young to remember much about his father, but he could get a pretty good idea who Nick Bradshaw had been by the hole left in Carole’s life.

He knew that his dad would bring home flowers from how his mom always kept a vase of flowers on the table. His dad must have danced with her while dinner cooked because she danced Bradley around the kitchen his whole life. Goose had been a lighthearted goofball, judging by the look in Carole’s eye when Bradley would goof off to make her laugh.

He also saw it in the way she cried the first time he played the piano. He had stopped immediately, but she had quickly come over to the piano bench and crouched beside him.

“Honey, no” she’d said, combing his hair back gently with her fingers. “I’m not sad, baby, you just look so much like your dad right now. He used to play the piano all the time.” She had smiled at him before she continued, “He wanted to teach you to play when you got big enough. Oh, Bradley, he’d be so proud of you.”

Bradley hadn’t been able to give up the piano since that day. It made his mom happy to hear, so he would keep playing, for her. 

Bradley had tried as much as he could to fill the space left behind by his father, though he knew there was no replacing Nick Bradshaw. When Carole was taken, he found himself unsure whether to feel more strongly the grief of losing her or the relief that she was reunited at last with her beloved Goose. He knew that as fiercely as she loved him, she also loved her husband and had missed him for many years, and a part of Bradley was glad they were together again.

He vowed quietly to himself that he would find what they had for himself, however impossible it seemed to find someone who would fit with him as perfectly as they had fit together.

That promise faded to the back of his mind for a long time. Bradley became a naval aviator like his father, as a pilot like Maverick. He fought his way to the sky, and fought some more to become one of the very best. His life got busy, and the few relationships he had didn’t last long. In time, he all but stopped dating, and the thought of fitting together with someone was nothing more than a daydream.

Then he met you.

He wasn’t entirely sure what changed, but he was drawn to you in a way he had been drawn to no one else. The long-distant promise surfaced in his memory, along with whispers of a love he barely remembered seeing. Bradley was no longer the hopeful, starry-eyed boy he had once been, so he cautiously tucked away the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw you.

He learned quickly that ignoring the feeling didn’t make it go away. It didn’t matter where or when he saw you or what you were doing. If he saw you when you just woke up, your hair a mess as you came to answer the door in a baggy shirt, his heart thumped a little harder in his chest. If he saw you all dressed up for something special, he couldn’t stop the way the breath was knocked from his lungs.

Eventually, he couldn’t keep everything he felt bottled up any longer. Much to the relief of his colleagues, he confessed it all to you, though, that relief soon returned to fond exasperation as he kept talking about how wonderful you were to anyone who would listen.

The development of your relationship slowly led him to realize that he had been wrong about his parents. They had not, in fact, found each other and just perfectly fit together. Their lives didn’t just twine together and continue as they always had.

Carole and Goose were the epitome of soulmates, but they were also the demonstration that soulmates were not born, they were made. They chose, daily, to love each other with their whole hearts. Every day, every choice, every word, every action, they chose to grow together and create an entirely new way of being that bettered them both. 

Bradley saw how you and he changed as you grew together. He saw how you took to evening showers once the two of you moved in together, just so you could spend the time with him when he came home from the airfield covered in sweat. Even before the two of you moved in together, you had given him one of your drawers during a particularly rough training patch that had Bradley falling asleep every time he came over. You hadn’t had the heart to wake him, so you made a way for him to stay. 

He started trading sleep to write you letters when he had to be away from you. You also noticed that he started stocking your skincare products and even period products in his bathroom. You could’ve sworn he somehow knew the warning signs better than you.

The two of you stashed a bluetooth speaker in the kitchen so you could play music and sing and dance while the two of you cooked dinner. He had told you once that Carole used to dance with him and you had smiled softly at him as you pulled him closer. When he was missing his parents, that became your go-to offer of support, especially when he couldn’t manage words. 

That’s not to say there were no unpleasant moments. You had your fair share of disagreements and comments said in anger that neither of you meant. So you also learned how Bradley shut down when he was upset. He didn’t raise his voice at you-- he rarely raised his voice to begin with, and it was never directed at you--but he would turn off. You could see the mask of apathy fall over his features. He learned how you became afraid that he would hate you after your more tense fights, but hated asking him to reassure you in case you drove him further away. 

So, you grew together. Bradley still needed space when he was frustrated, but he got better at recognizing and communicating when he was nearing his breaking point. For your part, you slowly processed that it wasn’t personal as you grew to trust him more. You also got better at asking him to reassure you, and he never turned that down, even when he was upset. He also could see the signs that you needed him and would offer reassurance before you needed to ask.

He also learned the little things about you. You loved to watch sunsets on the beach, so he tried to ensure at least one day a week that the two of you could go for a walk together in the evenings. You loved to watch snow fall, so he took you on a trip to a mountain cabin where you had snowball fights and sat wrapped up in each other by the fire. If you loved it, he had likely tried to do it with you.

Bradley saw you do the same for him. He loved flying, so once they were repairing their relationship, you had bribed Maverick to let Bradley borrow his P-51 Mustang for a day so you could fly together. Of all the flights he had taken, that was his favorite. You had found sheet music for a song he couldn’t get out of his head that you’d heard him humming. Now it was one he played often, just for you.

Even in your opposites, the two of you adjusted to a balance that worked for both of you. While you tended to be more shy, preferring nights in with a video game or a mug of tea and a book, Bradley loved going out with his people and the chaotic energy he could whip up when he played piano at the bar. 

So you did some of both. You braced yourself for going out with the noisy bunch of naval aviators and even found yourself enjoying the boisterous energy. You came to love it, though it still drained you quickly. He didn’t at all mind holding you after, helping you through your evening routine as he lent you some of his own strength. Other nights, Bradley would hold you while you read aloud, or play the piano you had at home in a quiet concert just for you. He adored how warm you were and appreciated the quiet peace he found in these moments with you. You loved when he was settled enough to lay his head in your lap so you could play with his hair.

Today, he had had a rare day off and found he couldn’t bring himself to do much more than stay in bed with you. So that was what you did. Mind you, that didn’t mean you did nothing. 

Bradley looked down at where you lay on his chest, your hand tucked in his as his other hand stroked lazily along your bare back. You had dozed off quickly in a blissful haze after he’d cleaned you up gently. How he had gotten so lucky to find you, he wasn’t sure. You, with your skin practically glowing in the golden light of the early afternoon. To him, you looked like an angel lying there in his arms. He couldn’t resist the urge to press a kiss to your forehead.

You stirred then, turning your nose to nuzzle into his chest. Bradley could have sworn his heart stopped.

“Bradley?”

“Yeah, honey?”

His arm shifted with you as you adjusted to curl even closer to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head again.

“You’re really warm, but can we pull the blanket up? My back’s cold.”

That made him laugh, even as he obliged. With the soft comforter tucked up to your shoulders, you snuggled in against him. Bradley’s hand returned to its path up and down your spine. “Better?”

“Much,” you hummed.

After a moment, he said your name tenderly, a question. 

You squeezed his hand in response, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.

“Do you ever think about how much we’ve changed since we met?”

“Sometimes,” you answered honestly. “Why?”

“Just thinking a lot lately. We’ve changed a lot since then.”

He felt you nod against his chest as you started to fiddle with his wedding ring. It was a sure sign you weren’t sure what he was getting at, but you trusted him enough to only say, “we have.”

“When I met you, I didn’t know how much truly loving someone would change me. I really like who I’ve become with you. I like who we’ve become together.” He felt you smile as you kissed his chest. The warmth that bloomed there confirmed for him what he was about to say, though he already felt the truth of it in his bones. “I have loved every version of you. I can’t wait to meet and love all the other versions of you that come along for the rest of our lives.”

As he had predicted, that had you turning your face into him shyly. He would’ve sworn he could feel your face heating up where your skin met his.

Eventually, you propped yourself up to look at him. Your hand that wasn’t in his found its way into his hair. “Bradley Bradshaw, are you sure you’re an aviator and not a poet?”

He chuckled, hand flattening on your back. “For you? I might just be both.”

If he could freeze the next moment and live in it forever, he would. You were propped up over him, the reassuring weight of you against him. The golden light from the window seemed to be everywhere, shining off you hair and glittering in your eyes. The way your face glowed was entirely you as you smiled at him. 

Bradley couldn’t think of anything other than how much he loved you and how he was certain now, more than he had ever been, that his parents were proud of him. He had kept his promise and built a love as strong as theirs with you. 

When you leaned down and kissed him, he silently made a new promise, one he knew he would keep.

He swore with every slow press of his lips to yours that every day, every version of you, he would love you.

And man, oh man, he looked forward to it.

Top Gun Tags:

@malindacath @army24--7 @mads-weasley

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster #rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun maverick #hoo boy I dunno if I'll ever top this for writing

[stranger-rants]

This user has already been dragged to hell for the fatphobic and racist tags on this post, but I do want to address these tags for a minute:

Viewing a teenage abuse survivor as a piece of shit who sucks ass absolutely cannot go hand in hand with helping them survive.

It's something I had to learn, because I have certainly run into my fair share of teenagers who have said and done hurtful things to me. However, I am an adult and I have power. The way I think about the teenagers I work with can have a positive or a negative effect on their lives - especially their ability to access resources that could improve their lives.

I have had to make a conscious effort to put aside my personal feelings whenever I've been called a slur or threatened or attacked because I am also the person who could connect them with a counselor or social worker or CPS, and too often these teenagers in particular get cast aside and suffer extreme amounts of abuse and neglect because people like you view them as a POS.

And I have to iterate that the teenagers I have worked with have said and done much worse than Billy. I had a student who murdered someone. I had a student who stabbed someone. I still hope that the both of them can recover and make amends. Just last week, my coworker was cursed out and called a f****t over and over in response to them telling a student they need to be in class if they want to graduate. It's that simple. It makes me furious to hear those things, and they're personally triggering to me to hear that kind of violence since I too come from an abusive home... but this is what happens when young people are immersed in violence, because no! Being 19 doesn't magically make you capable of understanding every right and wrong. Not when your brain has been wired by trauma. CLEARLY age didn't stop OP from posting what they posted. Why expect moral enlightenment from a young person actively surviving abuse?

There are many teenagers who get assaulted or killed every year and headlines will read that they were "no choir boy" or something of the sort. This is an intentional effort to minimize the systematic and institutional harm that was done to them and it disproportionately impacts teenagers who aren't white or straight or cisgender or Christian or able bodied or conventionally thin or neurotypical and so on and so forth. You CANNOT claim that these ideas (Billy is a POS & Billy deserves help) go hand in hand, especially when you fucking draw Eddie and Max flipping off his grave. You CANNOT maintain this attitude in all seriousness if you think that people like Billy deserve help because you are making a mockery of what he went through.

#text post #fandom critical

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Whumptober Day 31: You Can Rest Now

Aaaand we’ve reached our last stop! Hope you guys have had fun!

---

The weeks since getting back to Nimbasa had been incredibly hectic, full of complications nobody had foreseen ahead of time. As a pair of conductors, maybe one of them should have noticed the hurdles before they became an imminent problem, but it was difficult to avoid all of the obstructions on the tracks when the entire system was littered with them.

No matter. The most pressing issues had been dealt with, and while it would take some time to arrive at a station approaching normalcy, it was a stop feasibly within reach.

It was odd to think that, in spite of the vacation time he’d been pressured into utilizing over the years, this might have been the first real day off Emmet had taken from the everything that required his action. Prior to this, he’d been unable to still his mind for two consecutive hours, and now that he had the chance to unwind, he felt it every minute of it.

The apartment around him was blessedly active, filled with the sounds of Pokemon socializing or playing and the occasional footfalls. There was no way to mistake it for the grief stricken stillness early on or the air of tense concern that settled in the following months. The shifting of vines and conversational chirruping fit in seamlessly amongst the minor din, as if they’d belonged there from the very beginning.

Emmet let his head fall back against the couch, methodically picking through each part of the soundscape in turn until, finally, he caught near-silent footsteps moving from linoleum to carpet, drawing ever nearer.

The sofa dipped, and he cracked one eye open.

Yup. It had all been worth it.

On the couch’s opposite arm, his twin perched, regarding him with unveiled concern. Maybe he was a bit too thin and confused, still, but he was here. One hand toyed with the cuff of the dark, clean cardigan Emmet had forced upon him, unaccustomed to the fabric overhanging his wrists, and when Ingo noticed he was being watched, he quirked the tiniest iteration of a smile this side of Castelia.

That was new, but hardly unwelcome-- as was the fact that he didn’t even try to hide it when he was upset, now. It was sad that, over the course of two and a half years, nobody had bothered learning to read him, but the end result was hilarious. He could get away with the most dead-eyed, ‘how stupid are you?’ stare in all of Unova, and nobody would be any the wiser because they didn’t think to look into anything but the curve of his lips. When Emmet stopped to think about it, nothing had even changed; such interactions had been little better than a secret kept between the two of them. He’d been able to read Ingo perfectly well before-- it was just easier than it had been back then.

In a strange way, the amnesia was similar. The instincts and knowledge bases were still there, which meant everything else was, too-- just buried, slowly rising to the surface as the days passed. The two of them would have been alright in the event that that Ingo’s memories never returned, but the prognosis was good, and in the meantime it was… fun? Emmet got to reintroduce his twin to everything he’d loved, watching the open awe as he reacted for the second first time. From the turntable in Anville Town, to the movies they’d grown up on, to something as small as a sweet treat.

Did it matter that he’d learned to tolerate the dryness of razz berries when he’d absolutely lit up at the new-but-familiar taste of a mago snack cake? What was wrong with a quieter voice when it still extolled the same ideals?

In spite of everything that could have killed him from the inside out, he was still the same person he’d always been-- still Emmet’s beloved twin brother.

Which was precisely why Emmet was so emphatically not surprised that the faint quirk of a smile was accompanied by a sympathetic, “You look incredibly tired. Why don’t you go lay down? I can ensure that everyone is taken care of while you rest.”

“That is an option,” Emmet said, and took a moment to stretch upon getting back on his feet. His spine gave a satisfying crack but, more importantly, the action lulled Ingo into a false sense of security. He circled around, ostensibly heading toward the hallway to heed the suggestion. Though there was no opportunity to catch his twin looking away, the gaze that followed him didn’t hold an ounce of suspicion, making it all the more rewarding to catch Ingo by the shoulder and shove him over onto the sofa.

“Counterpoint,” He continued, already in the process of flopping down on top of his brother, “I am fully capable of laying right here.”

“So you are.” Ingo conceded, muffled by the cardigan sleeve in his face, his arm trapped between the both of them. “Might I ask why?”

“You might. But why would you? It seems verrrry obvious to me.”

There was a full-body sigh beneath him and, deliberately, Emmet began to match the breathing pattern it gave way to; he was rewarded by the captive arm escaping and coming to rest upon his back. With the blockade gone, nothing was there to keep them apart and, in spite of the long-suffering aura he’d put up, Ingo craned to knock their heads together.

Sure, Emmet could have gone back to his room and laid down, but it wouldn’t have the effect Ingo seemed to think it might. The sounds of life would be muffled and he’d be separated from the bright air of alacrity-- what would that serve to accomplish?

No thank you. Emmet was perfectly happy right here, where-- finally-- he could rest.

#ihaveatheoryonthat pkmn #submas #fanfic #whumptober

[doctorbrown]

DOCTOBER '23 ⸺ 「 25 / 31 * CAFE 」

November 7, 1955

❝Alright,❞ Emmett says, holding up the bag in his hand, ❝this should be enough time-appropriate clothing for you to get you through the rest of the week. I would have given you something out of my closet, however—❞

Marty puffs out his cheeks, looking the much-younger iteration of his best friend up and down. ❝I know, Doc. I'd be swimming in anything you gave me out of there. Thanks, by the way. For buying this stuff for me. I didn't want to put you out or anything—❞

Emmett shakes his head. ❝Nonsense, Marty, it's no trouble. It's the least I can do.❞ The last thing the boy needed to add to his mounting pile of worries was clothing and lodgings and despite this being the result of the negligence of his future counterpart—how could I have allowed this to happen?—the fault seemed to ripple back through the timestream to fall solely on his shoulders.

Marty may have inadvertently jeopardised his existence, but it was his time machine that had sent him back here in the first place, perpetuating the entire situation.

❝Doc, you've already done so much for me. Or, uh, you will. Besides, I don't have a chance of getting back to the future without you.❞

Emmett checks the time on one of his wristwatches and presses his lips together in a tight line. 15:27. It's still early enough in the afternoon where they have plenty of time to start gathering more of the necessary supplies needed to finish the modifications to the time vehicle, but given Marty's rough arrival in this time period barely two days ago and the way he had collapsed on the couch in the early hours of the morning leaves him wondering if he would be up for any further running around.

There was still much to be done, but he didn't want to exhaust Marty further than was necessary and he still had to be conscious of his needs.

They had managed a small breakfast earlier that morning once Copernicus had decided to leave Marty in peace, but if his hunch was correct, Marty would need much more of a meal than the eggs and toast he'd whipped up to hold him over.

Perhaps their purchasing an additional meal would have some drastic effect on the diner's revenue, or prevent ingredients from being used as they were meant to be. Perhaps the ingredients would never have been used and simply gone bad.

Possibility brought with it uncertainty, but Marty's presence in this time period meant that he needed to be cared for just as he would have in his own time, and that meant the essentials: food, clothing, and so on. With things being the way they were, it was unavoidable that his presence should have some small effect on the timeline.

If they didn't go out for lunch now, he would spend that additional money at the grocery store. And since they were already out...

Emmett would simply have to hope this didn't all catch up with him for the worst in 1985.

❝It's three-thirty now; how do you feel about stopping for lunch, Marty? Lou's Cafe is just a block over and we still have plenty of time before Saturday.❞

Marty scrunches his face as he tries to pretend his stomach isn't growling at the thought of food. ❝Isn't this going to, I don't know, screw something up if we go there? Buying another meal that wasn't purchased before or something, changing the timeline?❞

Emmett sighs and Marty gives him a look when he doesn't even take a couple seconds to think over his answer. ❝Such things are unavoidable; you need to eat.❞

When Marty starts to rub anxiously at the back of his neck, Emmett's brows furrow. Even after two days, it was becoming apparent that this was one of the boy's tells; that he would often touch the back of his neck or run a hand through his hair when he was nervous or withholding information.

❝Did something happen here, too, Marty?❞

His awkward laugh says it all.

❝Well, uh, this is where I first ended up when I got into town because I saw they had a phone. That's how I found you; you're in the phonebook. Spelled your name wrong, too. Oh, and this is where I first met my dad—by accident!—and—anyway, the guy in there, he also thought I was with the Coast Guard and, uh, let's just say things got a little...awkward.❞

He doesn't need Marty to fill in the gaps; he can already imagine the future boy's far-forward slang and mannerisms garnering weird looks from the people of Hill Valley.

❝Don't worry about that,❞ Emmett says, and Marty throws a curious look up at him. ❝I have an idea.❞

❝You're the doc, Doc,❞ Marty acquiesces after barely a moment, placing a level of trust in Emmett that is both foreign, yet oddly comforting. ❝Then let's go; I'm starving.❞

#doctober 2023 #&; a great idea can change the world 「 hc 」 #i originally started writing this scene set in '89 where marty's come to doc and he's stressed about wedding stuff #and they're sitting in a cafe chatting #and i have that draft saved (i actually wrote quite a bit) and may revisit it at another point in time #but i simply liked the idea of setting this in the fifties and the awkwardness of marty being like oh yeah so this happened

[real-shul-stories]

The Lady in Black

this was mostly a visit rather than a call, but i had a record of her 1 call to us in my file so I figured i'd add the whole story for context.

An old woman had been coming by the synagogue. She dressed in all black, head to toe, wrapped in various shawls and coats; only her face was visible. She always pushed a granny cart filled with belongings in plastic bags to keep them out of the rain.

When she first came by, she expressed a desire to talk to a rabbi because she needed help. This didn’t seem too out of the ordinary; we get many such callers. Unfortunately, a rabbi’s time is not so easy to get. I allowed her inside and told her that the rabbis weren’t available, but I could talk to her for a little while if she needed. (Sometimes people think they need a rabbi, when what they really need is someone to talk to.)

The old woman asked to sit in the sanctuary for a while, and I went with her to make sure she wasn’t up to anything fishy. Once there she told me her story, quietly, in her soft old voice: she was on the run from a vague group she referred to only as “the criminals”. These criminals were broadcasting messages directly into her brain, threatening to kill her and those around her. She was hoping to get assistance to leave the country to escape their broadcasts, as she’d already fled here from her home city in another state with no relief. She revealed that she wasn’t Jewish herself, but she had always been fond of the Jewish people, and a Jewish friend had recommended she come here.

She went into more detail about the criminals, saying that they targeted people known as angels. “They’re so beautiful, these people,” she told me, tears in her eyes. “I’ve seen one before, and I’ll never forget his face. You see them, and they have an aura about them…you just know that they’re angels.” The criminals apparently wanted to kill these angels and bring about the apocalypse, or something on these lines. Somehow, a number of years ago the old woman had discovered the criminals’ goals, and she’d been hunted by them ever since.

Of course I didn’t believe her. Nonetheless I chose to listen and respond as though the threats she faced were real, unsure how she might react if it seemed I wasn’t taking her seriously.

We were in there for a very long time. In the end I recommended she go to our local Jewish crisis help center, who are more equipped to help people who are in the kind of need she is. The old woman took a copy of our newsletter with her on the way out.

My coworker recommended that next time she visits I take some tinfoil out of the copy room and make a hat for her. “You’d be surprised,” they said, noticing my incredulous expression. “Sometimes that’s all people need.”

Normally visitors like these don't tend to visit a second time, but over the course of a few weeks this lady stopped by several times. Sometimes she would come in to chat, while other times a coworker would deter her at the door. Once she even called us and left a message: speaking from a phone in the university's medical center, she warned us to stay away. The criminals were apparently targeting people in the medical center now, and she wanted us to warn everyone in the community to stay far away from it.

The last time she visited us was a cold week in January before the pandemic. This time, she claimed “A Jewish man told me to come here,” which was a flimsy excuse at best. Unsure how to respond, I had her come in out of the cold at the very least. She explained that she had come the previous Saturday, and a male rabbi had told her to meet him back here at 3 PM today. Apparently she was to meet with him and a few others, who would provide assistance to get her out of the country. She re-iterated that she qualified as a victim of torture and war crimes, was hunted by these international criminals, and that the UN had some money set aside to help her. The male rabbi had told her to say “A Jewish man told me to come here” to gain entry. I told her that we don’t have any male rabbis here; was she perhaps at the wrong synagogue? At this point my boss came to intervene; she helped point the lady toward another synagogue nearby that might be the one she’d visited instead. There’s still a distinct possibility that she’d imagined coming to a synagogue at all.

Eventually someone claiming to be the woman's case worker with the city called us, and asked us to be in touch if she came to visit again -but she hasn't been back in some time now.

[allcirclesvanish]

i thought she knew but apparently my mom had no idea that the reason i'm so cagey around social media is that i was targeted for harassment over mlp fanart of all things. someone reposted my art to a kiwi farms thread for bad/embarrassing tumblr posts, and even though there are clearly stated guidelines against "cow tipping," it didn't stop people from harassing me and reposting my art to other websites in order to invite more harrassment from people who sent me some of the most vile things i've ever seen in my life. everything from suicide baiting to simulated cp to people eating feces and animals fucking... because i drew cringe fanart with a message about mental health (one of a set of similarly benign pieces of fanart with positive messages written underneath). my punishment for being cringe was having people dig up dirt about my life to taunt me with, and to threaten me, and to trigger ptsd responses until i finally gave up and deleted all of my art and everything else i could find about my life online.

it was very easy to target me for emotional responses because i used to post a lot about my life and my art online. it's been years and i've gotten better about practicing personal safety online but it's extremely hard for me to meet people or put myself out there at all. i've tried 5 or 6 times to restart my art blog, hoping that i'll make other artist friends, but it never lasts because i start to panic thinking about what if people harrass me and send me horrible things again. it only lasted a few weeks, which is nothing compared to the harassment campaigns i've seen against other people... this latest iteration of my art blog is the longest lasting one so far, but it's still kind of an emotionally daunting thing every time i want to post. i draw so much more than i actually update and i have to take long breaks from it because i need everything i post to pass this invisible and poorly defined bar in my mind of "will somebody have such a problem with this that they'll feel like they need to send me self harm photos over it." it changed my relationship to art forever. it turned me into an unbearable perfectionist who barely finishes anything. it damaged my ability to trust people. it really changed my life for years in just a matter of weeks.

i hadn't even heard of kiwi farms before this happened... i started visiting the site more regularly and grew a sort of fascination with them. i'm particularly interested in this contradictory place they hold in people's minds as an authority on truth and a hub of degeneracy. thinking especially of callouts that get reposted with sources from kiwi farms; how many times have you seen the line "yes, i know it's kiwi farms (ew) but the information is solid!"

like even if individual screenshots are undoctored and posted with full context (lol) i have rarely seen anyone asking whether it's morally questionable to repost personal information without consent, or to refer people back to a website like kiwi farms. even if they don't technically promote harrassment, they still stalk people in order to collect information about them. it's the point of the site. and their surveillance is just as much about punishment for perceived wrongs as it is about entertainment. if a cow is coerced into change after being posted to kiwi farms, that is broadly considered a win by the community.

being posted even briefly did change my life, but i think the biggest change was in my own thinking. for me it was an early insight into the dangers of surveillance and callout culture. even if i wasn't being "called out" for "problematic" behavior, it wasn't hard to make the connection between my experience and the experiences of people who are routinely harassed and targeted for kinks or privately held beliefs or for making jokes years in the past that reflect views they obviously no longer hold. also not hard to see how this appetite for entertainment at the expense of others could be easily co-opted (say by corporations or the government) in order to seed distrust in communities and promote narratives that align with the interests of capital!

anyway when people talk about their concerns of kiwi farms radicalizing its user base i don't think they ever envisioned a kiwi to communist pipeline lol

#didn't mean to write a whole essay #i guess i had more thoughts about it than i realized #txt #m #kiwi farms #00

[newtonsheffield]

THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR ACUPOP it was an amazing journey!!!! As a last gift from this universe (or maybe not last I hope) could we see those terrible mums for Neddy’s school meeting Anthony?

Thank you for reading it!

Now @sradepotter was also interested in these two getting their comeuppance! So let’s do it!

Kate had known from the very first second she took Edmund to Kindergarten, taken a look around and realised she was the youngest Mum by nearly ten years what everyone would say about her. She had heard it outside of school even, that she had been irresponsible and reckless and careless, and that’s how she’d come to have a five year old before her mid twenties. She’d heard it all, every iteration of Well you should have kept your legs shut under the sun. As though the fact that she’d fallen in love so young was something to be deeply ashamed of. As though she should have been riddled with guilt that she’d wanted so badly to keep a tiny piece of the man who’d never loved her the way she’d loved him. And she wasn’t ashamed of Edmund, who grew more and more beautiful every single day. But when she heard the mother’s talking about her, right where Edmund could hear them, she felt it, just a little.

Nearly everyone expressed surprise when she introduced herself as Edmund’s Mum but Justine and Crystal had been worst than most. Always ready with a snide remark, about her, or Edmund, or Oh dear, no Date again Kate? And after a while it had grated on her. She dreaded seeing them, met Edmund outside the deli a block away after school just to avoid wanting to scream Stop making me ashamed of who I am! I’m proud of my son. And over the years, without her saying anything, rumours had perpetuated about who Edmund’s father was.

She’d been in college and he’d been her married professor.

Her high school sweetheart who’d joined the military and died.

He was a drug addict.

He’d been a…client.

And she never said anything, just said “Edmund’s father’s not in the picture at the moment.” And still the rumours swirled.

There was an odd sort of rightness to it, Kate would think afterwards, after the smugness had settled down, in seeing them, in her last two Weeks in New York, strolling down fifth avenue, Edmund walking backwards, his eyes bright as he pointed something out to Anthony, Kate’s hand held tightly in his, the ring Anthony had given her burning on her hand, Edmund had walked right into them and skate could have groaned.

He spun around his eyes wide, “I’m So-! Oh! Mrs Jefferson, Mrs Clarke hello!” Held finished, smiling politely, just as he always did. And just as they always did, their eyes slid right past him, landing with a sneer on Kate.

“Kate! Hello, not your usual haunt! It must have taken you so long to get here on the train.” Justine smirked, her eyes flicking curiously over Anthony who had stiffened at the tone, sensing the tension immediately, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh and who’s this?” Crystal said gesturing to Anthony.

Kate took a deep breath opening her mouth but Edmund beat her too it, his chest puffing proudly, his hand on Anthony’s arm. “This is my Dad.”

Justine is eyes were still raking a little hungrily over Anthony, who was staring back a little coldly. Justine laughed, “Oh bless him, Edmund darling he’s your stepfather not your father.” She turned back to Kate, “I had no idea you’d gotten married.”

Kate’s stomach lurched, fumbling for words, her cheeks burning, as Edmund took a step back in surprise, pressed right against Anthony’s chest.

Anthony cleared his throat, “Anthony, viscount Bridgerton.” His tone sounded polite enough, if a little grandiose, clearly he was trying to intimidate them, but he didn’t offer them his hand, his eyes stone cold. “And we have always been married.”

“Viscount Bridgerton?” Crystal said a little stupidly, her brow furrowing. “Married?”

“We got married shortly before I fell pregnant with Edmund.” Kate finally managed to splutter out, feeling a little bolder with Anthony’s arm around her waist, his lips pressed against her temple.

“So all this time you’ve been…?” Justine was clearly struggling as much as her friend.

“Married to me, yes.” Anthony said a little bluntly, his hand resting on Edmund’s shoulder. “I’m afraid I had some… extenuating circumstances that kept me from my family, though we’ll be returning to London shortly.”

Silence fell over their little group, something oddly like victory blossoming in Kate’s chest. “Yes, I’m afraid British parliament’s quite busy this time of year.”

Let them do with that what they would. Not a lot given the way they were still staring between them wildly.

“I don’t-” Crystal started, but Kate didn’t give her any time to think.

“I’m afraid we can’t really stay, ladies, We’re headed to lunch.”

Kate moved past them steering Edmund by the shoulders, but Anthony stayed rooted in place, his eyebrow raised, “one more thing before we do leave you. Edmund is my son, Kate is my wife, and I love both of them very much. And you can tell the same to whatever gaggle of people you’re desperate to run back to.” And then with a very polite smile on his face he said, “have a lovely afternoon!”

Stepping around them, leaving them craning over their shoulders, and Kate couldn’t help herself from pulling him into a slightly demonstrative kiss

#a crumpled up piece of paper #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly’s asks and answers

[oliviajdjarin]

Chapter 5: An Old Friend

Warnings: this one is mostly fluff, so I don’t think there are any warnings. Maybe references to past trauma? If I’m missing one please lmk!

Author’s Note: Chapter 5!! Enjoy!!

(gif gotten from javierian)

After the little…. predicament with the last mission…. you couldn’t deny that you had gotten closer with the anonymous man you had been living with.

You made pleasant conversation, never too deep, but you felt more comfortable in his company. You had felt the same way with Peli… but this was different.

Your heart rate would increase whenever he would talk to you, and your mood would increase as well. You were excited to get to know him! This man who had taken you in knowing absolutely nothing about you. The least you could do was make him feel comfortable around you, and that didn’t even feel like enough.

It made you happy when he would ask you questions, like “did you enjoy the dinner last night” or “how did you sleep.”

It felt good to have someone be curious and care about you in your present state, not just your past or your abilities. And you loved to ask him questions too.

If you were lucky, he would tell you a story about an old job he did, and those were the best. It was like getting little pieces to a much larger, beautiful puzzle. A puzzle you prayed you would see finished by the end of your time with him.

The best interaction you had, by far, was when he finally ate with you.

It had been a nice day. You guys had stopped for supplies and it felt good to stretch your legs a little bit.

You found a great little food stand that had fresh meat and vegetables, and you knew you could make a delicious meal out of it. You shared your excitement with Mando, who nodded and helped you carry the supplies back to the crest.

Once you made it back and put all the supplies down in the incredibly tiny kitchen, you went to work.

You used amazing spices that you hadn’t tasted in weeks on the meat, and made sure to brown the vegetables in the same pan you used for the meat. That way they would soak up the amazing rendered flavors that the meat left over. After that, you put it all together in a pot and poured savory chicken broth in to mix the flavors.

Your stomach was grumbling at the smell alone.

The kid was hungry too, you could tell by the way he stared at you while you worked, so you made sure to save a hefty serving for him when you poured the meal into serving bowls.

You gave the little guy his serving and set yours right next to his on the dining table. You then carried Mando’s serving to the cockpit to give it to him.

You had an idea…. and you hated how you got your hopes up that he would agree.

You stood behind the pilot’s chair for a moment, until you finally took a deep breath and said, “Dinner is ready.”

Mando spun around in his chair and took the bowl from you.

“This smells amazing. Thank you,” he said and got up to walk to his room. He always ate in there because of his creed, and you felt a pull on your heartstrings every time you would think about him eating all alone. You wanted him with you and the kid. You felt full when you three were together, and Mando eating alone felt like you were leaving him out. You knew what that felt like, and you never wanted to inflict it on others.

This was it. This was the moment.

“Wait,” you said, and he turned back around to you, still holding the bowl in his hands.

Every time he looked at you straight on you felt your nerves creep up your spine and your hands become fidgety. You felt cheesy and stupid. This man was basically your roommate, not some partner you needed to impress.

But why does it feel that way?

“I uh… I was thinking that maybe.. we could figure out a way to eat together? I feel bad that you have to eat alone in your room, so maybe I could.. I don’t know.. turn around? And get the kid to do that as well? If you aren’t comfortable with that I totally get it, I just.. feel really bad that you don’t have anyone to eat with,” you say.

Of course he will say no. Why would he trust someone to just “turn around?” As if they wouldn’t want to catch a glimpse?

Your hopes were sinking every moment he stood in silence, and you weren’t liking your chances.

He looked down at his bowl and then back up at you, and these were the moments you wished he wasn’t so good at hiding his emotions. You wanted to see and feel what he was thinking, but he was impenetrable. He was like a stone wall, and you hated it.

He sighed, obviously thinking about what you said, and you just waited. You didn’t want to pressure him anymore. He can make his own decisions, and you can deal with them.

“If I do that,” he says, “you have to swear to me… you won’t turn around. And you won’t let the kid turn either.”

Your eyes widened.

It worked, you think. How the hell did that work?

“I swear Mando. I will not turn around on any circumstance, and I will do everything in my power to keep the kid at bay. If he doesn’t want to cooperate, I will eat with him away from you just to be safe. I promise,” you say and he nods.

“Ok,” he mumbles, and you smile at him. A genuine smile. A smile that says all the things you wish you could say, but are too afraid.

You hoped he wasn’t as good at reading people as you were.

“Ok. Let’s go,” you say and he follows you back to the table.

“Ok kid. You’ve gotta turn around for me ok,” you say to the kid and he babbles something incoherent.

“Thank you for the compliment on the food. I’ve known that recipe for a while,” you say with a giggle while turning his chair around.

You turn yours around as well and grab your bowl to set on your lap.

You and the child are now facing away from Mando, eating your dinner, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your belly slowly becoming more full calms your excitement, until you hear a small hiss and the sound of metal scratching the floor.

It’s off. Mando’s helmet is off.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes.

He did it. He really trusts me to do this.

You hear the sounds of him eating the soup and you swear this couldn’t get any better.

You go back to eating with a huge grin on your face, and you keep the child in your peripheral vision to make sure he doesn’t turn either.

You had connected with him through the force a couple of times since your first meeting. You had gotten better at reading the little one, and you could see just a faint look of understanding in his body language.

He didn’t waver. He didn’t squirm. He just ate as still as he could, and you were so grateful.

Seriously? This was all it took for the kid to behave, you wondered to yourself

Mando mumbling, “This is really good,” shatters through your thoughts like ice.

Mando’s voice. His true voice, just hit your ears for the first time ever, and you wanted it burned into your brain forever. You never wanted to hear anything different.

It wasn’t just the sound of it, but the feeling. You could hear the gratitude in his voice and it sent chills down your arms.

It was him. His voice. Something no one could ever replicate. It was truly his own.

“Thank you,” you say and take another sip of your soup. Your appetite has basically vanished at this point, and your ears just yearn to hear more.

“I think the kid is enjoying himself,” you say, and you pray you get Mando’s rarest gem of all in its rawest form.

And you do.

He gives a soft chuckle of a laugh. “Yeah, I think so too,” he says and takes another bite.

If you dropped dead right now, you would die a happy woman.

How do you even iterate what that felt like? What it felt like to hear this big, scary, metallic man give off something so vulnerable to you.

Had other people heard this at all? Maybe not even since he was a child?

Your hands started to shake from the endorphins and you finished your bowl. You took the kid’s bowl as well and placed it inside your own and just sat. Just soaked in this happy moment that you never wanted to end.

If only you knew how big of a smile Mando had on his face behind you.

~~*~~

A few days pass and the energy on the ship is the best it’s ever been.

You had eaten dinner together every day since then, and you wondered how something so simple could make you so….happy.

Mando was at his pilot’s chair (as usual) and he called for you to come to the cockpit.

Luckily it was pretty late, so the kid was passed out.

You made your way to the cockpit and saw that Mando had an image broadcasting from the ship’s holoprojecter. The image was of a man with a darker skin tone and flecks of grey in his hair. He looked like he had been through a lot, as his clothes were slightly tattered and ripped.

“I’d like you to hear this,” Mando said before pressing play.

The man in the image proceeded to explain how ranks of ex- imperial guards were ruling over his city and they needed Mando’s help to take them down. He proposed that Mando return to Nevaro and bring the child as bait, and once they got near the client, Mando would kill him.

The man said that if Mando succeeded, he would have his name cleared in the Guild and he can keep the child.

The clip ended and Mando turned to face you.

“What do you think,” he asked, and you looked to the floor with knit eyebrows, thinking.

“Bringing the child as bait is incredibly risky, but if you trust that man, I don’t see a problem with it. You can take down ex- Imperial guards no problem,” you say, and he nods.

“I’m just confused how you even know that man,” you say.

“He’s… an old friend,” Mando says, and you don’t like the sound of that.

“We kinda got off on the wrong foot last time we talked,” he said, and you nodded.

“So… he is saying you get to keep the child if you succeed, but we have had him this whole time?”

“There’s something you need to know,” he says, and he goes to explain how he really got the child, and how he has been being hunted by the Empire this whole time.

Throughout the explanation, you listen intently, nodding and keeping eye contact with Mando.

You would think that the fact that the Empire had been on your tracks the whole time would scare you, but it doesn’t.

It fuels you. You three were pissing the Empire off, and there was nothing you liked doing more.

You felt powerful. Unstoppable. For once you were making them mad, not the other way around. And you liked it.

You are not angry at Mando, not even a little. You feel relieved.

This perfect man who had given you nothing but happiness….wasn’t perfect. You had so many demons, and you found someone who did too. Someone who did something bad for the right reasons. You found a good person, who did the right thing because it was right. He had a good heart rather than an ego, and he let you in on something so precious to him. This child.

And you were not gonna let the galaxy rip him away.

Once he finished, you took a deep breath. You looked at him and smiled.

“You know…I am pretty relieved Mando,” you say, and he cocked his head to the side slightly in confusion.

“I thought you looked like that under the helmet,” you say, gesturing with your head to the sleeping green creature behind you, and you laugh.

Mando’s shoulders relax, and his grip on the arm rests of the pilot’s chair softens.

“Seriously Mando, it’s ok. You did the right thing. 99% of people would have just dumped the kid and left. I am proud of you. I am proud to be on this mission,” you say.

“If saving a baby from the Empire gets me arrested, then by all means let them arrest me.”

Mando’s shoulders shake a little. It probably felt incredible to get this off his chest. He had been keeping this from you for a while.

I wonder if eating with me helped him trust me more?

“Ok,” he breathes out of his helmet. “Good. I was hoping you’d stay.”

“Oh I’m staying alright,” you say and he gives a breathy laugh.

“But this is your decision Mando. I am up for going or staying. I know you understand there are risks in both options,” you say, referring to the offer the man on the recording had given you earlier.

“Whatever you want to do. I trust you,” you say and his head snaps back to make eye contact with you.

You give him a weak smile, and allow what you said to sink through his beskar and into his skin.

I. Trust. You.

After a moment, he turns back to his controls and stares into space.

If you’re being honest, you have no idea what you would choose. If you don’t go, the kid will keep being hunted and at risk. If you do go, that man could betray you and get you all killed.

Mando is in deep thought, as are you, and you jump a little when he starts punching coordinates into the controls.

“Sorgan? Why Sorgan?” you ask.

He turns to face back to you, and you can only imagine the cocky smirk he has on his face.

“An old friend.”

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary

#din djarin #mando #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian

[thetaoofzoe]

Fic: Ethan Hunt Must Die 1/1

Pairing: August Walker x YOU

Word Count: 10,420

Summary: You are a medic and a member of what’s left of  The Apostles. And it’s not rumour anymore. August Walker is definitely not dead. All you want to do is help him with his cause, kill those responsible for his grave injuries (and foiling his manifesto) and make Ethan Hunt pay. Falling in love with August Walker is just a given ;)

Rating: Mature to Explicit some Violence, sex and fluff and yearning and impetuous kisses, explosions and delicious August Walker.  And, this story is not as serious as it may appear, so have fun reading.

Note: If you have been around you’ve seen the original iteration of this story, but maybe not in its entirety. It was originally broken up into 10 parts as A Month of August Walker Challenge. Now, in all of its revamped glory is the complete story all in one place.  

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Your contact was a pleasant woman. She’d collected you from the tiny airport in Kashmir and on the way to your destination, she’d offered to buy snack food for you from a nearby shop.

‘The cabin is fully stocked,’ she reasoned pointing to the squat building by the side of the road, ‘but in case you want a Coke or something.’

You did want a Coke in fact and you took her up on the offer. Along with a few cans of cola you grabbed other items – chocolate bars, fishing tackle, and feminine hygiene products. You didn’t know how long you were going to be out there in the middle of nowhere, and you didn’t want to use up the precious bog roll when your cycle eventually came.

The woman was leaning against the side of the battered truck and smoking a cigarette when you stepped out of the shop. Eyeing your purchases, she nodded with approval.

‘Good idea,’ she said, making a vague gesture towards you with her cigarette. ‘We didn’t think about a woman’s needs during such a long excursion. Next time. There are all sorts of painkillers in the stocks though… just so you are aware.’

She put a gloved hand on her lower belly and laughed a little.

‘I know how it can get.’

You smiled, grateful to be sharing this moment with her, woman to woman, and thanked her before getting back into the truck.

‘Is there gonna be a next time?’ you asked, sweeping the seatbelt across your chest and clicking it into place.

She didn’t look at you as she started the truck and set off down the road.

‘I hope this is the last, ‘ she said finally and as it seemed like such a struggle for her to come up with an answer that she seemed satisfied with, you didn’t continue to press the matter.

Settling into the seat, you unwrapped a chocolate bar, and with three large bites, had it stuffed into your mouth. The salty chocolate and nougat were glorious and you moulded the sweet wad into the roof of your mouth so that you could savour it with slow licks.  You folded the plastic-coated wrapper into a small square and tucked it in your jacket pocket.

The woman drove along the rough frosty mountain roads as if you two were being chased. She didn’t seem at all phased with how the truck bounced and jumped dangerously close to the edge of the cliff, as if one wrong turn of the wheel wouldn’t send the two of you plunging down into the river below.

That imagery triggered sudden rage in you.

Goddamn you, Ethan Hunt, you thought.

You wanted just two minutes alone with Hunt to make him regret having ever laid eyes on August Walker. Hunt deserved nothing but a long slow torturous death.

Ever since the incident, The Apostles had been split on what to do regarding  August Walker. Should he be left out there and forgotten? Or should his remains be recovered and given a proper burial?

The thought that there was nothing left to recover prevailed until reports that August had survived the fall started trickling in. With this new knowledge, it was impossible to prevent the uprising that voted to scour the mountains to find him. This time, your only mission was to man the cabin in the event one of the search teams found him.

‘Not far to the cabin. Ayami is apart of the search team. You know her, yes?’ asked the woman.

‘Yes. I know her.’

‘Good, Ayami planned all of this, coordinated us, and was able to pinpoint a location not far from this cabin.’

Not enough planning for a menstrual cycle, you thought, petulantly.

‘It will work out,’ she continued and nodded. ‘He will be found.’

‘This is the third time someone has,’ you made inverted commas in the air with your fingers, ‘pinpointed his location, only to run into IMF lies. We are wasting precious time. August is alive and we need to find him.’

The woman drove on in silence for a moment.

‘I agree with you, yes. I agree. But what do you suggest that we do? If not this.’

You relented and sighed. You had no idea what to do other than this.

‘If I could snap my fingers…’

You clicked your fingers and she chuckled, clicking hers as well.

‘He would be safe with us,’ she finished for you.

A half hour later, she slowed and finally stopped the truck and pointed through the windscreen at what looked like a stack of fallen trees.

‘Unfortunately, my friend,’ she said. ‘There is a way to drive up to the cabin. However, it is many, many kilometres that way and petrol for me is hard to come by right. It’s easier to drop you here and you take the trail. It’s only a few hours hike.’

You grabbed your rucksack from the foot well, reached over and one-arm hugged the woman and then got out. She did a wide circle turn around and pulled the truck up to where you stood.

‘Good luck, my friend. And take care.’

‘Take care,’ you said. ‘See you soon.’

She gave you a two-fingered salute and drove away.

**

It was cold that far up in the mountains and the beginning of the trail looked desolate. Securing your rucksack on your back, you began your long trek, and the cabin was a welcome sight after hours of navigating the rocky hard terrain.  Inside was small and utilitarian, but it was more than enough for you. You didn’t bother to take off your boots before falling onto the cot and into a deep exhausted sleep.

In the morning, you took stock of your surroundings. The cabin was pretty well-appointed with a wood stove, a table with two chairs, an amazingly comfortable cot and stacks and stacks of supplies. The gold-painted metal ammo closet in the back was comforting to see and you were going to familarise yourself with its contents later. But first, breakfast.

You got up to make coffee and noticed a medium-sized cardboard box sitting on the small dining table by the stove. There was a note.

‘Your name was given to me at the last moment. Here are some things you may need.’

And it was signed, ‘Ayami’.

You slit open the box with your pocket knife and laughed when you saw the contents. Ayami had packaged not only tampons and pads but several different styles of menstrual cups for you and you felt guilty for earlier, being such a brat about the supplies you needed.

‘You planned everything, Ayami,’ you said aloud to the empty room. ‘Thank you.’

You lit the fire in the stove and put a pot on to boil some water. A noise outside pricked your ears. It sounded like the heavy motor of an ATV and out of the noise you picked out the sounds of other engines drawing closer.

Shit! you thought, rushing to the ammo closet at the back of the cabin.

Flinging open the doors, you dragged out a single barrel shotgun, loaded it, and scrambled back to the front cabin door. Peering out through the narrow window you watched as several four-wheelers and one battered Land Rover raced towards the cabin. In a cloud of kicked up dirt and dust, the Rover drove straight up to the door and to your absolute surprise, the passenger door popped open and Ayami jumped out.

You opened the cabin door and came out.

‘Good!’ she shouted over the noise of the engines. ‘You’re here. Get the first aid boxes ready, now!’

You were a medic and understood the urgency in her tone. You ran back to the cabin and were piling bandages, antiseptics, and other items on the table when three men carried in a limp body between them. Ayami strode across the room and captured you in a hug.

‘I am happy to see you,’ she gasped breathlessly and grabbed your hands. ‘We found him!’

With heart crashing against your ribs, you looked to the man being stretched on the cot as Ayami continued.

Oh God… they found him.

‘Somehow some wanderers discovered him months ago and took him in.’

She trailed off and shook her head. She still seemed to be in shock.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ you told her and squeezed her hands. ‘We’re looking after him now. Radio in for helicopter transport. It may take a few days to get someone out here.’

You cleaned your hands and went to assess the situation. August was alive and badly burned, but gladly not beyond your repair. Ayami came back into the cabin after making the call and joined you at the bed.

‘You planned all of this, Ayami,’ you said. ‘You made this happen. What’re our next step?’

Ayami put her hand on your shoulder and smiled viciously.

‘To make Ethan Hunt pay.’

**

You were wrong.

It didn’t take a few days for the helicopter to arrive. It took two weeks. Although the cabin was well stocked and had nearly everything you needed to tend to August’s wounds, it wasn’t enough.

Ayami wanted to leave and take August the long way through the mountains. They had the power to transport him over land and it was fucking stupid to leave him at the cabin to succumb to something that could be fixed. His body was fighting a raging infection and frankly, he was losing. You explained to her your reasons for why it would be tough on August to try to drive with him through such hard terrain.  He was in a fragile state and jostling him all around in an unstable car could exacerbate any internal injuries. A chopper ride would be better.

Ayami understood that, however…

‘We’ve got plenty of antibiotics,’ she said reasonably. ‘Why can’t we give him some?’

‘Because we don’t know what he has. He could have a bacterial or viral infection and just picking something to give him might do more harm than good. I don’t want to take that risk.’

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to pump him full of all of the pills you had, just to scattershot the infection, but incorrectly dosing him, in his weakened state,   might kill him. August Walker was alive and you were going to keep him that way.

So you did your best. With Ayami’s help, you kept him clean and dry and in order to manage his temperature, iced. August, however, foiled your attempts to tend to him effectively. He was delirious and unaware of  what was happening to him. More than once you had to extract yourself from his vice-like grip as he held onto you and growled guttural threats of violence to your person. All you could do was try to soothe him and mop his brow and use the aspirin to dull his obvious pain.

**

During the wait for air transport, you stayed up some nights with August. Sometimes you just sat at his bedside and read by the light of your headlamp. Sometimes you just watched him, held his hand and stroked his hair when nightmares haunted his sleep.

He would heal pretty well, you observed, and, without too much lasting damage to his face. He was fortunate that the hot oil missed his eye, although it ruined his ear. But you knew that too could be reconstructed.

‘We’re gonna get you back on your feet, August,’ you murmured on those nights when he was at his most fitful. ‘And we’re gonna get those people who did this to you.’

Even though you weren’t sure he could even hear you speaking, you continued to encourage and comfort him.  It was the least you could do.

**

‘You met John Lark before?’ Ayami asked over breakfast one morning, using August’s real name for the first time.

‘When he was going by John Lark?’ you asked for clarification and she nodded. ‘No. Not then. He had already assumed the new identity and was in the CIA when I turned up.’

‘He was not always like this,’ she said a bit cryptically.

‘How was he?’

Interest sparked in you.

She shook her head.

‘Just different. Maybe he’ll tell you someday.’

Ayami smiled at you and you turned, alerted by the soft groan coming from the bed.

‘Oh God, he’s waking up again,’ she chuckled and then asked you, ‘Top or bottom.’

You laughed inspite of yourself and gave the choice a moment’s thought. ‘Top’ meant that you got to administer medication, clean up his face and check his bandages, while ‘bottom’ meant that you would have to wrestle with his strong flailing arms and risk getting punched in the face. Ayami looked at you expectantly and you grimaced.

‘I had top last time, so…’

She smiled and got up, patting your arm in passing. ‘Then you get top this time.’

‘Ayami, c’mon,’ you protested rising from the chair. ‘I don’t want to be unfair.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ she said lifting her arms and flexing her biceps. ‘But, I need my workout.’

**

Ayami needed to stay in Kashmir to tie up some loose ends. So, you said your farewells and parted company when the chopper transport finally arrived.

You, on the other hand, were headed to New Delhi where another contact would meet and relieve you of your August-sitting duties.

Exhausted and battered, it was just after midnight when you finally arrived at the airport.  Out through the cloudy bubble heli-window, you saw the second contact rush to the settling helicopter. You unlatched an dragged open the side door.

‘Hello!’ he shouted over the roar of the blades overhead. ‘It’s Janus. You can come with me!’

‘Where am I going?’ you shouted back, not moving from where you were sitting next to August’s prone body.

He was still blissfully unconscious and sleeping quietly.

‘There is a safehouse here. You can rest. We will transport Walker to the small plane over there and continue on to London.’

You shook your head and were able to speak normally when the blades finally shuddered to a stop.

‘I’ll go on,’ you told Janus. ‘I’ll go on, it’s ok. I’ll stay with him.’

Janus looked puzzled.

‘No, you are to go to the safe house. I am to continue on.’

You had come this far. You weren’t going to leave August, so you again declined the offer of a trade.

‘Now. Come on. I’m not going to quibble with you,’ you said, kicking open the other door so that the two men accompanying Janus could wrangle the stretcher out of the chopper.

You watched them carry August off and jumping out of the heli, you turned to Janus.

‘Be well, my friend. But I’ve got it.’

Janus shrugged a little and nodded, seeing that you weren’t going to be swayed.

‘Is it really him?’ he asked and you could hear relief seeping into his voice.

You put your arms around him in a farewell hug.

‘It is,’ you said. ‘You have Ayami to thank for that. Make sure that you do.’

You ran after the two men carrying the stretcher. The men secured the stretcher inside and turned to help you into the back of the plane. You pulled closed the small plane’s door and made sure that August was securely strapped in. It was going to be another long ride to the final safe house.

**

It was raining in London, and as the small plane approached, the cool precipitation rinsed away grey foggy clouds to reveal the golden city. Through your headset, you listened to the pilot talk to air traffic control and learned that you were headed to Blackbushe Airport.

‘How far is the safe house from the airport?’ you asked the pilot.

‘Not far. Maybe 20 kilometers. Not far.’  

You were so ready to put your feet on land that you closed your eyes and envisioned a soft bed, a hot meal, and an even hotter bath. Glancing down at the still sleeping man on the stretcher at your feet, you felt a rise of tender feelings in your heart. Not only had your team recovered August Walker, alive, but you had a personal hand in his convalescence.  Reaching down, you touched his face. He felt hot, but not as feverish as before and you were relieved. Elevated fevers for sustained periods of time were dangerous and although he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he was better. You brushed a curl of brown hair off of his forehead and smoothed the edge of your thumb across his eyebrow. Yes, he was going to heal well and regain his strength to be able to fight another day.

Blackbushe Airport was small but efficient and there was a black, solid paneled van waiting for you. You helped the men with the stretcher and once August had been secured, you pulled yourself into the offered front passenger seat.  The driver nodded to acknowledge your presence and you put on your seatbelt as the van drove off.

Someone tapping on the window jarred you from the nap you didn’t realise you had fallen into. With a wet grunt, you sat up, reflexively swiped the back of your hand across your mouth, and dried the drool which had pooled in the corner. Hand still to your mouth, you shifted to look through the window. It was the driver and he made a gesture for you to get out.

You nodded to show that you understood and he moved off. Behind you in the cargo part of the van, you could hear men talking and then sounds of strain when they lifted the stretcher. Even unconscious, August wasn’t for the weak or fainthearted. You chuckled at your own analogy, unclipped the seatbelt and opened the door. Your legs wobbled when your feet hit the ground and you pressed back against the closed door until you felt that you could walk without collapsing. It took a while for your legs to finally firm and when they did you followed the men into the medium sized country manor house.

Inside smelt of cedar and pine. Your footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as you walked into the charming front room and looked up at all of the old portraits and paintings and decorative weapons. Twin staircases, one on each side of the front room,  dog-legged up to the next level.  You approached a tall round table with a large vase of fresh flowers and walked around it. You peeked into dark rooms and soon found yourself in an equally as charming country kitchen. There was a man in there wearing a black jumper and blue jeans, drinking from a white mug.

‘Ah!’ he said when he saw you. ‘Come in, come in. Coffee?’

Aware that you looked particularly filthy and bedraggled, compared to his crispness, you cleaned your hands on your cargo trousers and stepped into the room.

‘Yes, please.’

The man obliged, saying, ‘It’s only instant, I’m afraid.’

Instant was fine and you didn’t protest when he handed you a cup.

‘And it’s terrible,’ he added with a laugh. ‘I’ve only just arrived and haven’t had a chance to flush out all of the pipes. Everything happened so fast.’

You nodded and drank the metallic tasting coffee without complaint.

‘Ayami, then. Right?’

You knew what he was asking. Ayami was the conductor of this orchestra and she deserved all of the credit.

‘Yes.’

‘Fuck… she’s a legend.’

Finishing the cup without much tasting it, you handed it back to him.

‘I’d like to clean up and make sure that he’s… that August is ok for the night.’

He took the cup and was nodding as he put both yours and his into the sink.

‘Sure, sure. I can do that. There is a room ready for the both of you. Come on, I’ll show you.’

You followed him up the stairs and down a quiet, thickly carpeted hallway which was also lined with gaily painted portraits. Upon reaching the room at the end, he stepped aside to let you go in first.

There was a trio of men in there, that you recognised as the medical team and the room had been set up like a well-stocked hospital room. The lemon yellow wallpaper with its sunflower print was a pleasant contrast to the medical equipment and other paraphernalia. The men greeted you and they all shared a happy look. You knew why and yes, you shared it too. You said nothing as you watched them undress and bathe August, glad that he could finally receive more focused treatment.

‘And my room?’ you asked.

August didn’t need you now and you had to look after yourself. Mr instant coffee led you back down the hall and showed you your bedroom and amenities. When he left you, you threw your rucksack on the floor by the bed, stripped out of your filthy clothes, and immediately ran a bath. When you finally emerged, refreshed, and clean down to your toes, you found a sandwich and cola waiting on the table next to the bed. You devoured it in a few bites but drank the cola slowly as you unpacked your rucksack. All the way at the bottom,  and rolled around a pair of thick socks was a clean shirt and sweatpants which you quickly pulled on. You sat on the edge of the bed and finished the cola.

Flopping onto your side and closing your eyes, you intended to rest for only a moment. However, sleep had other ideas.

**

Sunlight streamed in through the windows behind you and you woke suddenly then rolled over. On the wall at the head of the bed, a pleasant-looking woman smiled down at you from a pastoral painting and you were groggy enough to smile back. Rubbing your face you sat up, yawned, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed, staying there a moment to contemplate the night before. You hadn’t slept that well in a very long time and you were grateful to have finally got some rest. That old bed was a godsend.

After washing and dressing in clean clothes, you stood in the corridor outside your room door and looked down the hallway to where August slept.  His door was closed. The scent of coffee wafting up the stairs alerted you that someone else was awake and you wondered if it was Mr Instant coffee down there still flushing out the pipes and drinking metallic tasting coffee. You decided to leave him to it and you walked to August’s room.

You tapped on the door but there was no answer, so you turned the doorknob and let yourself in.  August was still asleep. The IV drip bag was half empty and the bandages on his face were bright and clean. He looked much better in the warm morning light and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. You smoothed down the patch of  IV tape on the back of his hand and August startled a yelp out of you when he moved.

His eyes were open and you found yourself under the clear scrutiny of the infamous August Walker. Before your inglorious meeting at the cabin, you had never been this close to him. The two of you never spoke nor had you even been in the same room.

His eyes moved all over your face as if hunting for something and you stood still letting him complete his inspection. When recognition finally bloomed in his eyes, he relaxed.

You ventured to put your hand over his.

‘Do you remember me?’ you asked.

‘I remember,’ he answered, voice raspy from disuse.

August fell silent and it seemed to take effort for him to speak.

‘I… remember you read to me.’

Your heart skipped with elation.

‘Yes.’

Breathing out a breath, August closed his eyes.

‘Thank you.’

‘We’ll make him pay, August,’ you said when he was quiet. ‘All of them.’

It didn’t matter that he had succumbed to sleep again and probably didn’t hear you. Ethan Hunt was going to pay.

**

It was fortunate Mr. Instant Coffee, as you dubbed him, was around to cook and clean because you weren’t about to look after Walker and do the domestic duties as well.

As the weeks drifted by and August grew stronger, you turned your interest away from him and to revenge.

Retribution, you liked to say to yourself. It was a much better word and to pull it off, you needed a team.

Ayami, of course, was on board. She was always up for some violence and you loved her for it. She knew exactly who you needed and how to contact them. And, if you were going to go through with it, all the way, you needed a solid plan. Every piece had to be in place for the whole machine to move forward. No stone could remain unturned.

You spent a lot of time in that country kitchen with plans and schematics and blueprints spread out in front of you on the table. The first order of business was to find the persons responsible; Benji, Ilsa, Luther and Hunt.

Find them, and observe.

‘That’s it,’ you’d told Ayami. ‘Find them and observe. Record their patterns, their travel, their habits, their pubs, markets, clothing stores, everything.’

You made sure to have rotating team members on each target so that said target would not recognise any reoccurring faces and become suspicious. IMF was a clever, skittish bunch and the way to lure them into the trap was to be patient and deliberate.

Early one morning, about three months into your stay at the safe house, a heavy thumping down the stairs distracted you from your research.

You got up, refilled your coffee and then poured a second fresh cup. Returning to the table you put the second cup in the space across from where you had been sitting. For two weeks now, August had been testing his newly found strength and had insisted on getting up and moving around own his own. He’d recently been cut out of his arm cast and was able to navigate his way on crutches. And on mornings after breakfast when he could get himself out of bed, he usually banged down the stairs and hobbled into the kitchen.

After a few days of this, you started preparing a cup of coffee for him. Whether he was looking for coffee or not, you always put out a second cup when you heard him coming down. And August was actually polite and thankful for the gesture. It surprised you. You expected him to be this gruff and grumpy take charge team leader who didn’t have time for underlings. When, in fact, August Walker was a very pleasant man.

‘Morning,’ you heard him say from the kitchen’s doorway.

‘Morning,’ you replied, nodding to the coffee cup.

He took up his regular place across from you, and leaned the crutches against the bench seat.

You looked at him finally. The bandages were all off of his face now (except for the one remaining to protect his damaged ear) and the swelling had gone down.

What was at first considered full-thickness burns were actually only partial-thickness and he could heal without skin grafts.

He looked, you decided, pretty normal. Handsome, in fact and you wanted to reach out to touch him.

He saw you examining him and he made an aborted attempt to touch his face.

‘No, it ahh… it’s good. You look much better. Really,’ you said quickly.

He picked up the coffee and drank slowly.

‘Does it still hurt?’

‘No,’ he said into the cup and changed the subject. ‘What have we got?’

Right back to business, you thought. Of course. None of this ‘feelings’ stuff for him.

‘The only one we got consistent eyes on is Luther. I guess they’re not using him these days, so he’s staying put. He’s in the States and looks to have a vacation home in Florida. If he has a third place, we don’t know about it yet.’

August listened and nodded and you swore you could see a little smile starting to play across his mouth. Not wanting it to disappear, you showed him photos of Ilsa.

‘I think, she thinks she’s clever. At first she was darting around, doing the whole ‘spy’ thing. It was cute. Now, not so much. I’d like to take her… if you agree.’

August looked up at you and that little smile was still there. In fact he looked particularly pleased with you.

‘Don’t worry. Hunt’s for last. We’re saving him for you.’

August held your gaze and you felt a thrill race through you.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘I want you to do whatever you want to do. I trust you.’

You brightened considerably and resisted the urge to clap your hands with delight. Having August Walker’s trust had made the day golden.

**

A few days later, the thumping down the stairs distracted you from your work. Smiling a little, you got up and poured a fresh cup of coffee and sat it on the table across from you. Then as an afterthought, you got up again and plated a few chocolate Hobnobs that Mr. Instant Coffee had bought with the weekly grocery. You had barely put the plate down before August appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Seeing the mid-morning snacks waiting for him, he smiled a little and now down to one crutch from two, he hobbled into the kitchen and sat down in his usual spot across from you.

‘Look at you, speedster,’ you teased.

August’s brows rose with pleasure, but he smothered his growing smile by lifting his cup and drinking the coffee.

‘I prefer your coffee to the other one,’ said August, raising his eyes to meet yours.

You hesitated to meet his gaze, and when you did, the praise in his face melted you.

August quickly looked away and down at the plans on the table between the two of you.

‘So, tell me.’

He gestured with the cup to the papers.

You grinned, feeling pleased with your progress.

‘Ilsa. I finally got a bead on her. And I will be travelling to her location today.’

‘Today?’ he asked, sounding surprised and your brows drew together a little.

‘Too soon? I mean.. do you want to come?’

August shook his head and suddenly looked concerned.

‘I don’t want you rushing into something.’

Ah, was that it?

You reached out to tap the back of his hand with your index finger.

‘Whilst I thoroughly enjoy your concern, there’s no need for it. Do you umm, want a trophy? An eyeball? A finger?’

August was clearly surprised, and your offer startled a laugh out of him.

‘No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘No, I don’t want any of that. But ah… I appreciate your vigour.’

You smiled at him.

‘You sure?’

He laughed a little, again, and asked, ‘And your flight?’

‘Coupla hours,’ you replied checking your wristwatch.

‘And your plan?’

‘Delicious,’ you promised.

And it was.

**

Los Angeles was hot and sweltering and you were not prepared for the weather. But you didn’t let that deter you, for you had a mission to accomplish.

You found the target sitting at a table beneath a colourful umbrella at a crowded outdoor cafe.

Carrying several bags emblazoned with names of high-end shops you stopped by her table, made a show of looking into the cafe and then down at the chair across from her.

She looked up at you and you tried a smile.

‘Hi, I am sooo sorry, but do you mind if I just sit here. I am dying in this heat!’

As you were actually dying in the western heat, you knew that you came across sincerely. She took a moment to consider you. Judging you harmless, she nodded to the chair and you collapsed onto it gratefully.

‘Oh, thank you, honey. That’s so good of you. I thought I was going to get all of my shopping over and done with before noon, but you know how it is. Just one more shop, one more try on…. maybe they got those shoes in the back in your size, right? Am I right?

You giggled easily and she nodded, then glanced into the cafe.

‘I gotta wear these gloves to that my hands don’t tan,’ you said watching her. ‘There’s nothing worse than having your arms one colour and your hands 5 shades darker.’

Ignoring you, she raised her hand hoping to alert the waiter standing inside.

He eased up to the table.

‘Yes ma’am.’

‘I ordered my…’

‘Yes, I know ma’am. We are working on it right now, please give us some time. The broiler is currently holding on by a thread. May I offer you a cold drink? On the house?’

You looked at her and she sighed.

‘Sure, go on. You want one?’

Her attention was on you.

You shrugged.

‘Sure! I’ll have what she’s having.’

The two of you chatted amiably for a little while and the waiter returned with your drinks. You immediately sipped at the fizzy fruit drink and put your glass down next to hers.

Several minutes later someone inside shouted, ‘Janie Fellows?’

The woman across from you stirred and then stood up.

‘Finally,’ she said and went inside to pick up her order.

You watched her go and quickly, unobtrusively, dumped the contents of your travel perfume bottle into her glass.

Ilsa returned with a plate brimming with meat and salad and set it on her placemat.

‘Looks good,’ you said admiring the dish. ‘I might get one, but I do need to get on, I think.’

‘You can stay as long as you like,’ she assured you and began her meal.

You sat and chatted whilst she ate and finished her drink.

You were in the middle of a long drawn out story about your imaginary husband when she stopped devouring the rare steak.

Ilsa dropped her fork and you turned towards her.

‘Something wrong?’ you asked, faux concern in your voice as you let your natural accent slip. ‘You’ve gone quite pale… Janie.’

Ilsa’s wide eyes shot up to your face and she spat out her chewed mouthful.

‘I probably overdosed you,’ you said quietly. ‘I mean, you were ten pounds heavier the last time I checked. But you and your hot yoga classes have done wonders. I might take it up myself.’

Eyes bulging as the poison squeezed closed her throat, Ilsa gurgled and staggered upright. The chair screeched on the concrete, fell away and you got up.

‘August Walker says, hello,’ you snarled at her. Then changing your attitude to something more helpless you shouted, ‘Oh My God! I think she’s having a seizure, help, help!’

A crowd began to form allowing you to slip away, but not before giving the thumbs up to Mr. Instant Coffee who had posed as your waiter who had perfectly distracted the mark enough for you to poison her drink.

**

‘Went well, I take it?’ August asked when you bustled into the kitchen the next morning.

There was coffee waiting for you at your usual spot.

You threw your arms round his neck and gave him a hearty kiss in greeting.

‘Better than you could ever imagine!’ you crowed and left him in stunned silence.

**

Distracted by the noise coming from the upper floor, you looked up from the laptop. The thumping down the stairs had been sounding a little less clumsy lately, now that August had finally regained control over his healing limbs. You were glad for it, because it meant that the infamous August Walker was out of the woods and on the mend.

You got up, poured a fresh cup of coffee, and was just setting it down when August came into the kitchen.

‘Morning!’ you called brightly, like the little homemaker you fancied yourself to be.

Well, you fancied yourself to be the kind of homemaker who didn’t keep house, but made coffee and assassination plans. You turned the cup so that the handle faced August when he straddled the bench and sat down across from you.

‘Thank you,’ he said picking up the cup and drinking deeply.

Smiling fondly, you considered him a moment and looked at the fresh bandage on his ear.

‘It’s ear day soon, isn’t it?’

Ear day, as you called it, was literally when August got his new outer ear to replace the one that had been damaged.  Contacts in one of the world’s leading biotech labs had been cultivating new skin and cartilage from his own cells and were ready for transplantation.  August had been putting off the surgery, ever since the fire of killing off the IMF team had been lit. He wanted a clear conscience before proceeding with any additional cosmetic surgery.

August lifted his gaze, but not directly to you. He looked at a spot on the table which was still littered with papers and blueprints and your laptops and a muscle bunched in his jaw, alerting you that he was uncomfortable with this line of discussion. You were never one to back down from a subject you wanted to pursue, so you pressed him gently.

‘I think… well, I think it’s gonna be fine. The surgery will be fine. You’ll have a brand spanking new appendage and everything’s gonna be fine.’

You watched his eyes sweep the length of the table, in an obvious attempt to avoid looking at you.

‘You suffered no hearing loss, on that side, the skin is mending itself nicely and the doctors even said that there was no follicle damage. Those curls will be coming back in no time.’

He scoffed.

‘I don’t care about that.’

‘Yes you do,’ you said with a tiny grin. ‘Yes you do, you care. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t look like this.’

You waved an appraising hand in his direction.

‘August Walker, meet August Walker. He cares about his looks.’

‘I’m not vain,’ August scowled, putting the cup down and finally looking you in the face

You softened your teasing just a little.

‘I didn’t say you were vain. There’s nothing wrong with a man who looks after his appearance. It’s… sexy.’

That stopped him and a spark of pleasure brightened his face.

You continued to lay it on thick.

‘Come now, a good looking guy like you? And you don’t know it? I find that hard to believe.’

He snorted quietly.

‘Do you ever think something that you don’t say?’ he asked, lifting a dark brow.

You leaned in on your elbows.

‘There are loads of things that I think, that I don’t say. That doesn’t mean that I won’t say them eventually.’

August’s lips lengthened into an inquisitive smile.

‘Like?’

‘Like?’ you repeated and decided to come clean. ‘I just said that you were sexy.’

You made an airy, dismissive gesture.

‘That’s not a new thought.’

You felt a chill manifest as a soft, insistent tingling that skittered all along your skin. Everything you’d hidden about your feelings for him was almost all the way out and you couldn’t stop yourself.

‘It’s not new that I’d do anything for the manifesto to be realised,’ you continued.

When August put down the cup, you reached out and clasped both hands over his.

‘That I’d do anything for you, August.’

The passion in your own voice stunned you. Surely, you had once again overstepped his boundaries.

First, it was kissing him without asking,  and now this, though August didn’t seem bothered by your audacity. He turned his hands up to enclose yours.

‘And I reward loyalty,’ he answered, voice low and full of promise.  

You drew in a long breath through loosely pursed lips, which August seemed to appreciate for his eyes lowered to your wet mouth. His own lips parted in response and you wondered if you climbed across that table and onto his lap, would it have been considered outlandish.

You didn’t think about any of that, as you stood up onto the wooden bench. With his handsome face brimming with delight, August held onto your hands and steadied you as you scrabbled across the table and landed astride his muscular thighs with a satisfied ‘ooof!’

He grimaced from the sudden pressure slamming down on his still tender leg and you were immediately contrite.

‘I’m sorry,’ you murmured, sliding your arms around his neck and curling your fingers into his shaggy curls. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll not play so rough next time.’

‘I like it rough,’ said August, running his hands over your hips to grip you close.

And then you kissed him, softly, fully, feeling his lips come apart beneath yours. Breathing him in, your thoughts ran wild.

I could get used to this. I could indulge in this all day. I could–

Then, ever a man of ill timing, Mr. Instant Coffee bustled into the kitchen, and it took him a moment to realise what he was interrupting.

‘Oh, shite, ok… uhh so that’s happening. Ok, great, but ah, you two… we need to get a move on. The car leaves in ten.’

And then he was gone, leaving you staring at the recently vacated kitchen doorway with your arms dangling over August’s shoulders. Reluctantly, you backed off of August’s lap and smiling, you cupped his cheek, pressed your thumb against the dimple in his chin and walked off to grab your travel bag.

It was back to the States again, the keys of Florida where Luther Stickell was vacationing on a secluded houseboat.

**

Stickell was not hard to find. His boat was moored in one of the farthest berths and was lit up like Christmas. He was having a party.

So much for keeping a low profile, you thought as you stepped off of the elegant cabin cruiser that had been rented for your mission. Your craft was berthed far enough away from his that no one in Stickell’s party could see August in his scuba gear, stepping off the low deck and into the dark water.

Standing on a nearby wooden piling, a pair of seagulls watched you suspiciously, the way birds do, and you lifted a finger to your lips, shushing them.

Holding a pair of strappy heels in your hand, you walked down the slatted dock between yachts and other smaller boats.  You purposefully wore a skimpy sequined dress, in the hopes of talking your way into the party. There were casually dressed men standing on the dock and smoking and they stopped talking as you approached. They didn’t look like bodyguards, but just like regular blokes. Easy to manipulate.

‘Hullo!’ you called happily, flapping your hand at them in greeting, affecting tipsiness. ‘I couldn’t help coming over. I just came from another get-together, but I’m not done partying yet. Ya’ll mind if I… ’

You made a walking motion with your index and middle fingers towards the boat. One of the men smiled and swaggered towards you. He held out a hand which you took and he led you to the edge of the boat, then helped you down the stairs.

Too easy.

There were people milling about on the port deck and some people playing cards inside, but not a lot was going on. It appeared to be at the tail end of the party, where people were trying to drink the last of the booze and eat the last of the food before they were forced to go home. You spotted Luther at the card table. He was laughing around a huge cigar clamped between his front teeth and then he threw the cards down on the table with a triumphant cry. The men sitting there erupted in jeers and hoots as he raked in the pile of money from the centre of the table.

Scanning the area you then went down the stairs to the toilet and stood in the dark narrow corridor thinking about August swimming around beneath your feet as he planted bomb charges against the boat’s hull.

The thought of him down there was strangely arousing.

August was stronger now, strong enough to cause mayhem with his own hands, and it was all you wanted for him. You crouched by the toilet and dug about in your handbag, pulling out one of Ayami’s personal creations – something she’d called her ‘cherry bang bang’. You drew out a black device that was flat on the bottom and round on the top. It looked harmless enough, almost like a little cake, but you knew the massive power packed into that sweetly named bomb. She had given you and August a personal demonstration of the destructive power of her little sweets. You placed a kiss on its glossy surface and adhered it to the underside of the toilet bowl.

‘You are a gem, Ayami,’ you chuckled and pushed upright.

You made your way back to the upper level and moving about unnoticed you planted more cherry bang bangs, even adhering one to each of the fishing chairs bolted to the port side deck.  

A chill settled over the harbour. The guests soon drifted inside and eventually left the party altogether.

You walked back to the rented cabin cruiser to find August waiting for you. His hair was curly and damp and there were pressure marks from the dive mask across his brow. You went up on tiptoes to kiss him. August caught you about the waist and wrapped you up in his arms, lifting you to deepen the kiss. Trapped like that against his big, hot body,  your heart throbbed excitedly. If he could elicit such wonders from your body with just a kiss and an embrace, you couldn’t imagine what other magic he could work.

‘Ready?’ he asked, bending to put you back on your feet.

You nodded and tossing your shoes aside, went to sprawl on one of the long creme coloured couches. August started the engine and guided the cruiser out of the berth. When you were a safe distance away, he reached for your hand and helped you up to the top deck.

You could see the lights of Stickell’s boat twinkling in the distance.  And after about twenty more minutes, once everyone was finally gone, Luther shut off the boat lights.  You and August got up from your deck chairs. You held up the binoculars and adjusted them until the houseboat came into sharp focus. All you could see now was the red glow of Luther’s cigar as the man sat out in one of the fishing chairs and enjoyed the rest of his evening.

August put one arm about your waist, big hand splaying across your stomach, and held up the detonator with the other.

‘Two down,’ you said and he depressed the button.

The explosion was brilliant.

Through the binoculars, you watched the boat burn and sink, but August was more interested in kissing the back of your neck and exposed shoulders to pay attention.

‘Mmmm,’ you purred slyly, leaning your head back against his shoulder. ‘Did you like that? Was it good for you?’

‘So good,’ he answered giving you one last kiss before releasing you.

You opened your mouth to say something but the distant sounds of sirens broke the silence.

Time to go, you thought and the both of you disappeared into the night.

**

You didn’t want to go back to the safehouse right away. As nice as the country house was, being cooped up between those four floral walls drove you crazy. August paid for a few nights at the Shangri-la hotel in London so that you could shower in temperatures above lukewarm, and sleep in a broad bed beneath washing detergent scented sheets.

And when August made love to you on those soft sheets,  your earlier conjecture regarding his sexual prowess, did not prepare you for the bliss you experienced with him buried deep inside you.

It was nearly nine in the morning, a few days after your expedition to the Keys, and propped up with a pillow under your armpit, you lay on your side across the hotel bed, a bowl of spag bol, and your open laptop on the white duvet in front of you. You were half under the thick covers and half out of it because the room was warm, but not uncomfortably so. August emerged from the adjoining bathroom, wearing one of the luxurious bathrobes and towelling dry his hair.

He tossed the towel across the footrest by the chair and stretched out on the bed behind you, looking over your shoulder to read the Miami Herald’s bold headline. He slid his hand beneath your tee-shirt and caressed the skin between your shoulder blades. How he figured out that you liked that, still remained a quandary, but you were glad that you didn’t have to ask for it.

‘Oh, dear,’ you said feigning distress. ‘Did you hear about the accident that happened in Florida? Tsk… such a shame.’

‘Is he dead?’ asked August, as he nuzzled your shoulder.

‘Yes, sir,’ you teased, reaching back to playfully push him off. ‘You are not paying attention.’

‘I am. I’m paying attention to what’s important.’

The implication of his statement drifted right over your head as you were too focused on proving him wrong.

He kissed your neck again and grunted when you jabbed him with an elbow.

‘Well, if you were paying attention to what was important, you’d know that…’

‘That Dunn is here in London,’ August finished for you and continued to lazily caress your back.

That shut you right up. How did he know?

‘Of course, you knew,’ you chuckled.

‘I suggest,’ said August, changing the subject and lifting his head to take your earlobe between his lips. ‘We take one more day here and then find him.’

As he spoke, August slid his hands beneath you, turned you away from the laptop and pulled you atop him. You wriggled with delight, and grasping the robe’s belt, you pulled the knot free and let it fall open.

‘Just one day?’ you asked, sliding down the length of his body to ease his cock into your mouth.

‘Anything!’ he gasped, the heat of your mouth robbing him of coherent through. ‘Whatever you want.’

You wanted at least two extra weeks after the mission.

**

When you woke hours later, August was gone. There was a note left for you on the nightstand and in his neat print he’d written, ‘Supply Run.’

You stretched under the duvet and tapped the stiff cardstock against your lower lip.

Supply Run either mean food, or guns and knowing August, it was probably the latter. You were just raiding the over-stocked minibar refrigerator when he returned to the hotel room, carrying a long black duffel which he dropped onto the chaise at the end of the bed.

‘Guns,’ you said aloud, looking up from the chilled box of chocolate.

‘What?’ he asked, shrugging out of his jacket.

You smiled and shook your head and switched on BBC World Service.

Unzipping the duffel, August asked, ‘what do you know about Sage Software?’

‘Nothing,’ you answered truthfully. ‘Who are they?’

‘They supply small business software. Dunn is working with them and hacking them.’

Taking the chocolates to the bed, you opened your laptop and searched the business. With a laugh, you rolled over onto your back and looked up at August with interest. He was smiling slightly back at you.

‘Well, what do you know?’ you said with amusement. ‘Sage is located in the Shard, which is… ’

August nodded to you and his grin widened.

‘Right downstairs,’ he finished.

‘Did you plan this? Getting a room here because he was downstairs?’ you giggled, when he leaned over to kiss you.

‘Of course. Leave nothing to chance, Princess.’

Well, that nickname was new, you thought, delighted.

‘What’s the plan, then?’

August stretched out on his back next to you and folded his hands on his belly.

‘He’s got an office on the 13th and is there most nights.’

‘Most nights,’ you repeated and waited for him to finish his thought.

‘Tonight.’

**

Dunn was surprisingly easy to pick off. You had expected for him to have cameras and monitors and other high tech stuff to alert him to the presence of anyone who came unannounced to his office. And, you were surprised that /he/ was surprised when August quietly opened the thin office door and let himself in.

You stayed in the corridor and watched the scene unfold through the narrow decorative glass panel next to the door.

Dunn obviously recognised and remembered August,  because he bolted out of his swivel chair and threw himself against the wall behind him.

‘I thought you were dead!’ you heard him shout before the silenced round splattered him across the frog poster that announced ‘work hard, play hard, live hard’.

You clapped lightly as August exited the office.

‘Well done, baby,’ you praised him. ‘But come on. I heard the lift bell. It would be stupid of us to get caught.’

All the little piggies had gone to slaughter. All except one.

**

Ethan Hunt was not a stupid man.

In fact, he was quite the opposite. He was cunning and clever and suspicious which were characteristics that helped him to remain one of the top Mi6 agents.

He also had a golden streak of very good luck and August Walker was just about to ruin that man’s whole career.

‘He went squirrely, ’ said Ayami who was pawing through a tin of broken Danish butter cookies from where she sat perched on the kitchen counter-top.

Two weeks after you returned from the Dunn business,  Ayami just turned up at the country safe-house. Much to your delight, you’d found her one morning sitting at the kitchen table having a bagel and cream tea. And you knew why she was there. Things were winding up to the big payoff and the team needed to be as consolidated as possible.

‘What does that mean?’ you asked her but it was Mr. Instant Coffee who answered.

‘Means that he knew what’s good for him and went underground.’

‘Because all of his peeps were getting murdered,’ Ayami finished cheerfully and you half expected her and Instant Coffee to slap hands in a celebratory high-five.

August sat silently in his usual place, thoughtfully turning the small white coffee cup in a circle on the table.

‘Last time he was seen?’ he asked finally.

‘Park hotel, Berlin,’ Instant Coffee read from the reports supplied by the ‘boots on the ground’ team. ‘Been there for about a week, but he hasn’t really stayed one place for more than that. We should have moved earlier.’

‘No,’ said August, not looking at him, but at the cup. ‘No, we want to give him enough rope to hang himself. Let him get complacent.’

‘Do we have time to let him get complacent?’ Instant Coffee said. ‘I mean, the longer we wait, the more time he’ll have to burrow in like a fucking tick.’

You looked at Instant Coffee for a moment. He did have a point.

‘Okay,’ August replied easily. ‘You’re right.’

At that moment, your respect for August Walker increased ten-fold. That he was able to take in the opinion of the other members of his team was unbearably sexy. He may have earned a little leg over for later that night.

‘I’m going alone,’ August announced finally, drawing the sharp attention of everyone in the room.

You reined your own reaction because an emotional response in that instant would have been inappropriate. You knew exactly why August wanted to hunt down Ethan alone. Hunt had not only gravely wounded August’s body but also his pride. His revenge was personal.

‘That’s probably not a good idea,’ said Instant Coffee, obviously feeling confident that he had scored a few brownie points a few moments earlier.

August scowled and looked to you. Meeting his gaze,  you nodded once.

‘August should face Hunt alone,’ you said to the room and then to him, added, ‘but I don’t think you should go alone.’

There was so much gratefulness in his eyes that you felt embarrassed and looked away. You didn’t want August to see the answering distress in your eyes. If the fight on the cliff side had been fair, and luck hadn’t been on Hunt’s side, August wouldn’t have lost. Tossing August over the edge was poor sportsmanship. You were afraid that Hunt would employ other clever tricks and defeat August for the second time. And now that August wanted to take on the IMF leader alone ensured that he would be left vulnerable to losing the upper hand.

You didn’t want to lose him again, but you remained silent. This was ultimately August’s decision and he had made his choice.

**

The two of you didn’t speak much on the trip to Berlin. There wasn’t much to say. You didn’t dare express to him your fears, because that would only serve to distract him with your possibly misplaced doubt. And distraction was the last thing August needed.

When he pulled up to a local hotel to drop you off, you stayed in the car, sitting quietly for a moment, unsure what to do or say. Sighing, you turned to him and reached to cup his cheek.

‘See you soon,’ you encouraged him. ‘Bring me a trophy.’

August nodded and you got out of the car.

Come back to me, you thought watching the car disappear in the afternoon traffic.

Your room faced the Berliner Fernsehturm and you could hear music from the festival going on in the square below. You took a long hot shower and stretched on the surprisingly comfortable bed. It wasn’t the Shangri-la, but it was charming and it wasn’t long before you fell asleep.

The room door thunking shut as if a heavy weight collapsed against it awoke you hours later. With a gasp, you shot upright and reached for your weapon. You couldn’t remember where the light switch was, so when you scrambled up from the bed, you backed up to the table under the window and jerked open the curtains to let in the artificial outdoor light.

The scent of sulphur and petrol filled the room and as your eyes slowly adjusted to the differences in the light you could just make out the bulky form sitting on the floor against the door. You knew that form as the impression of it was etched on your own flesh.

You put your weapon aside and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, grabbing a towel and wetting it as you passed the small bathroom alcove. You crouched before the shadowed figure and put your hand beneath his chin. You lifted his face to the light and it was clear that Hunt had given August a run for his money.

You gently cleaned the dried blood from his mouth and chin, carefully working it out of his moustache and scruff.

You wanted to say something reassuring, something positive, but you were too overwhelmed with relief.

‘Well,’ you murmured, stroking his face. ‘I hate to see the other guy.’

August was silent and you hoped you hadn’t over stepped the line.

He then held up a small package wrapped neatly in butcher’s paper and tied with white twine. You took it from him, pulled the string and the paper unfolded  to reveal your trophy. Holding it up to the light, it took a moment for you to recognise the carefully extracted evidence of Hunt’s death and you smiled.

‘Come on, you big brute,’ you said fondly, attempting to pull him up from the floor.

When August didn’t budge, you stopped straining against his weight and gasped with exertion.

‘You’re gonna have to help me here, babe!’

Groaning miserably, August managed to get his feet beneath him using the door and you to heave himself from the floor. You struggled to get him out of his clothes  and under the soft yellow light above the sink you examined him. Big swollen bruises bloomed across his chest and back accompanied by several shallow scrapes and slashes. You wasted no time washing him up, patching his wounds, and getting him into bed.

Lying on his belly, August was still asleep when you woke the next morning. You went to the minibar refrigerator, withdrew your trophy and admired it in the morning sunlight. Your mobile beeped.

It was a message from Ayami.

‘Tell your boyfriend to be a little less conspicuous next time, ok?’ she’d written.

Curious, and glancing at August’s sleeping form, you rang her.

‘What’s that mean?’ you asked when she answered.

‘I mean that August didn’t need to leave that fucker’s burning corpse in the warehouse. He damn near burned down the place.’

‘He was obviously sending them a message,’ you answered, smiling gleefully, proud of your little murder puppy.

‘I can understand that,’ she shot back sounding uncharacteristically irritable. ‘But that also earned us more attention than we wanted.’

You sobered.

‘Is this something that needs to be taken care of?’

‘It’s already handled,’ she answered and some of her good humour crept back into her voice.

You sighed and relaxed, wrapping an arm about your midsection.

‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ you said after a moment with no conviction in your voice and she laughed incredulously.

‘When are you coming back?’ she asked, changing the subject.

‘I dunno. Depends on what August wants.’

‘Ok, you two lovebirds hash it out and I’ll see you… whenever.’

‘Thanks, Ayami. I love you!’

‘Get something from the Wall museum for me, ok?’

You disconnected the call and tossed aside the mobile.

Feeling a warm sense of well-being, you re-wrapped your trophy and stored it in the refrigerator again. Climbing into bed next to August, you lifted his arm, crawled beneath it, and curled your body against him.

August had exacted his revenge and you felt satisfied for him. But you weren’t sure what was going to happen now. The mission that had consumed so much of your year was over. You felt un-moored and a little panicked, but when August tightened his arm round you, your hamster wheel of thoughts scattered.

There was time to worry later, now in the heat of August’s embrace was peace and with a small smile still on your lips, you put your head against him and slept.

-end

#Henry Cavill #August Walker #August Walker x reader #Henry Cavill smut #ethan hunt must die #napolwon solo #man of steel #clark kent #geralt #the witcher #napoleon solo

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 20: Then Perish

Written by: The Maribat Pit @jasonette-july-event​ Prompt: Then Perish (Part 1) Rating: M (violence, minor character deaths) A/N: We wanted to finish Jasonette July with a bang.  The second half will be posted tomorrow for the Saturday Challenge.  We’ve appreciated all your comments and kind words, we really do read every one. It genuinely means a lot to us and encourages us to continue writing together.  As a fandom you have been nothing but kind and supportive, and we enjoy bringing you fics great and small with a wide variety of genres, dynamics, and iterations.  Also blame DC fanboy for the memes in this fic. Marinette loved to travel, she had traveled all over the world from New York to Shanghai. Today, she traveled with her parents to Gotham City to visit her parents' friends, whom they had not seen in many years. Sabine was initially afraid to visit Gotham City, due to its crime rate and ever-growing list of criminals. Tom reassured his wife, saying that his big stature would scare any would-be criminal from harming them, that the trip would be short and they would visit Metropolis afterwards. Marinette wore the Ladybug Miraculous, just in case something were to happen. As the family got off the taxi at Park Row, everyone felt something was off. "Park Row really has...changed." Thomas muttered. Sabine held on to both her husband and her daughter, "I think we should leave." she said. Soon shadows began appearing around the corner, then came the yelling, and soon after came the gunshots. Thomas grabbed his wife and daughter and ran to find shelter from a hail of bullets. Marinette looked back to see many civilians, men, women and children caught in the middle of this gang war.  She needed to be a hero, her father could take care of her mother, she needed to save those in danger. She freed herself from her father's grasp and ran behind a corner, she whispered "spots on" and transformed into Ladybug. Diving and flipping across streaking bullets everywhere, she flung her yo-yo to drag any unfortunate bystanders into an abandoned building. While in a building with innocent civilians, she peeked her head out the window to see a monstrous man.  Wearing a blood red helmet and wielding two pistols, he systematically killed everyone before him. His flips and kicks were graceful yet brutal, the cries of pain and pleas for mercy made her shudder. She couldn't fight him, no, she was afraid to. It would be best to find her family, she did all she could and got bystanders to safety. She quietly transformed back into Marinette and went to look for her family. She ran back to where she last saw them, she scoured the streets shouting "Maman! Papa!" hoping that using her French would help her parents find and identify her. She soon ran into the Red Beast, as she began to turn and run back before she saw the two people at his feet. “<No, no no no, please god no.>” she whispered to herself, tears building in her eyes. There lay her parents, in a pool of their blood with bullet holes between their eyes. Marinette dropped to her knees, silently crying. The Red Hood either didn't see her, or chose to spare her and decided to walk away. Marinette ran to her parents, grabbing them both and shaking them. "<Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me>” she wept. Later, she was picked up by the GCPD. They escorted her on the flight back to Paris along with the remains of her parents. When she arrived, she was approached by the Aide Sociale à L'enfance (ASE).  They told her that she'll be staying at a nearby orphanage until after her parents' funeral. Then she would then be sent off to live with her only remaining relative, her Great-Uncle Wang in Shanghai. On the night before the funeral, Marinette was unable to sleep.  She curled her legs to her chest while she sat on the mattress.  She has spent the past few days researching the mysterious Red Hood, crime boss and self-proclaimed Prince of Gotham.  She read article after article of his meteoric rise to power, first conquering Black Mask, then The Penguin. Nightmares plagued her whenever she closed her eyes, she saw the Red Hood tower over her parent's lifeless bodies, covered in their blood. She was worried about being sent off to a foreign country tomorrow evening, while barely even speaking any Mandarin. All the while knowing that once she is on that flight to Shanghai, her parent's killer would without a doubt walk free. Morning comes, yet Marinette still thinks of what she should do. Could she really go to Shanghai to start her life anew, not knowing the language and allowing her parents’ killer to go on unpunished? At the funeral, while standing over her parents’ graves, she remained silent. The priest, ASE agents and her friends all came to pay their respects. Each of her friends approached her to give their sympathies, but she did not listen to a word they said. The Red Hood weighed heavily on her mind, and she made her fateful decision. To run, run and never look back. She had prepared a backpack containing the Miracle box with all the Miraculous, along with a few essential supplies and money. She turned into Multimouse to sneak on board a passenger aircraft to make her way to Gotham City.  Jason knew, better than Batman, that fighting crime sometimes meant getting your hands dirty.  What started as a petty squabble between two rival gangs grew into a bloodbath.  He missed Roy at times like these, Artemis and Bizarro were still missing, but he held out hope that they would one day return to this Earth. A teenage girl with an impressively sturdy yo-yo had burst onto the scene, trying to get civilians to safety.  He was a bit too preoccupied with the battle to get a good look at the girl.  Knowing Bruce, the next time he’d see her, she’d be under his wing.  Sadly, there were two civilians that neither of them could save, a large, burly looking man and a tiny woman.  The person who shot them with frightening accuracy had got away, moments later a teenage girl had arrived on the scene.  There was a brief flash of fear in her eyes when she saw him, and she would have just scurried away if only he hadn’t been at the very spot where her parents lay dead.  The girl was inconsolable as she fell to her knees and wept, pleading with them in French.  Red Hood walked away, thinking it would be best to leave her to grieve.  There wasn’t a whole lot he could say in English that would make her feel any better, never mind in French. He watched from a distance as the GCPD arrived to pick up the pieces, Red Hood watched from the shadows as police officers and an interpreter tried to get the girl’s side of the story.  From what he gathered, the girl’s name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her family owned a bakery in Paris.  Her next of kin was a relative in Shanghai, and it sounded like the best option for her would be to go and live there.   The plan was to ship her and her parents’ bodies back to Paris, and let child services take it from there.  He would have probably told her to get as far away from Gotham as possible, away from the clutches of a certain someone who was also orphaned in Crime Alley.  He saw her cradle what looked like a small pink doll to her face as she wept, before he turned and walked away. A week later, Jason had a break in the case.  This was all caused by some low-level members of the Falcone and Maroni families continuing their decades-old battle.  As far as everyone knew, the crime families swiftly executed the men responsible and went about their business.  Two crime families were unable to keep their lackeys in check, and now the people who weren’t lucky enough to be whisked away by Yo-Yo Girl, were now either dead or wishing they were.   He thought back to poor little Marinette, wondering where she was now. Bruce confronted him at the Iceberg lounge shortly after the incident, to which Jason explained that the perp had got away.   He had killed people before, and that wasn’t stopping anytime soon, after all it wasn’t that long ago that he tried to kill the Penguin.  “This may surprise you Bruce, but the Red Hood isn’t the only one who uses guns in Gotham '' he snapped.  There were some lines that even he did not cross, lines that he had drawn for himself. Judging by the accuracy of the gunshots, this was no accident.  Their daughter was probably starting a new life, probably on the other side of the world.  Still, he wished he could have said something to the girl, a simple “Hey, it’s gonna be all right” probably would have sufficed.  Little did he know that Marinette was making her return to Gotham City.  She would have her revenge on the Red Hood, and this time she had nothing to fear and nothing to lose. After her very uncomfortable 10 hour flight from Paris to Gotham City in the cargo hold, Multimouse quietly sneaked out of the crowded airport without alerting anyone. Marinette wandered around Chinatown, thinking of her next step. She was thinking about how she would have to go through the city with a fine tooth comb to search for a lead, likely starting small with his men in the streets.  Before she could put the earrings back in her backpack, Tikki begged her to reconsider what she was doing.  “Please Marinette, you need time to heal, to grieve,” she pleaded, but Marinette didn’t need the powers of healing, luck and creation. If and when she encountered the Red Hood, she wanted to bring him death, misfortune and destruction.  After all, that was exactly what he had brought her.  With a stroke of luck, she overheard someone getting a beatdown.  "You get your ass outta here, this is Red Hood's turf. If you wanna sell that shit, you gotta give the boss his cut."  Marinette whispered "Plagg, claws out" and transformed into Lady Noire, before sneaking up behind one of the Red Hood’s men. He released the person he was beating, and chased him out the alleyway.  She took this opportunity to swing her staff,  hitting the back of his neck and sending him face first into the ground. He immediately tried to stand up, as he stood on wobbly legs he took out his knife from his jacket. "Oh shit, Catwoman?!" he yelled. Lady Noire used her staff to sweep him off his feet and slammed her staff onto his face.  "Where is the Red Hood?" she growled.  "Screw you bitch!" the goon retorted. Lady Noire had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell her the location of the Red Hood, so she decided to try a different approach. "Fine then, why don't you give your boss this simple message…" Before she could finish her sentence, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. She turned around and started spinning her staff, creating a grey shield to deflect the storm of bullets that were being fired at her.  She moved her hands at a rapid pace, and frantically pushed back against the hail of bullets.  As the bullet storm subsided she looked up and saw, up on the fire escape, was the Red Hood with an assault rifle. The Red Hood casually tossed his gun aside and asked "So, what's this message you have for me, Catwoman?" He gracefully did a forward flip and landed in a crouch.  "Wait a minute..." he said, the first thing he noticed was that this person was tiny, 4’11 or maybe 5’ on a good day. Her eyes were a bright acid green with dark slits like a real cat’s pupils.  "You're not Catwoman, you're too short to be her, for one thing.” he remarked “also she usually has a whip instead of a staff, who are you?" Lady Noire gritted her teeth, "You killed my family" she answered with a low growl. "Do you have the slightest idea how little that narrows it down Kitten?" Red Hood's taunts made her snap.  She screamed "YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!" The Red Hood stared at her, as he crossed his arms.  "I don't even know who you are, what's your beef with me?" He asked, Lady Noire lunged at the Red Hood with her staff, she swung wildly to try and hit him.  He dodged most of her strikes with ease, “Is that the best you’ve got?  You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”  Where she might have lacked in skill, she made up for in determination.  She wasn’t pulling any punches, he had to give her that.  He caught the staff under his arm, and punched Lady Noire with his free arm.  As he went on the offensive, he slapped her staff aside, and came at her with a series of punches and kicks.   “So, what do you want Kitten? Money? Jewels? A very big ball of string?”  he joked.  “All I want is revenge,” she spluttered. “Get in line Kitten, you’re in the city that runs on vengeance” he retorted. Marinette was lucky that the suit gave her enhanced speed, strength and endurance. She always loved how the Lady Noire suit felt a lot lighter compared to the Ladybug suit. Though she shuddered to imagine what her opponent would do with this power.    He raised his leg to end his combination with a forceful downward kick, Lady Noire raised her staff up to a horizontal block to stop the kick. Upon contact with the kick, the staff split into two, and then Lady Noire launched into her counter attack. She was striking the Red Hood with a flurry of blows with both halves of her staff.  "Escrima sticks too? Looks like we have a Nightwing fan here” he smirked under the mask; this new girl was just full of surprises.  He brought his arms to the sides of his head in a defensive posture, blocking the onslaught of strikes from the escrima sticks.  Red Hood then grabbed Lady Noire by the back of her head, placing her in a Thai clinch. He launched a powerful knee to her face and sent her reeling back. He drew his pistols and fired a torrent of bullets at her. Lady Noire had to dodge, weave and use her staff to deflect incoming bullets. One bullet even grazed her cheek. She then pointed her staff at the Red Hood and extended it with so much force it slammed him against the wall of a nearby building. Without giving him any breathing room, she then retracted the staff. She launched herself towards him and then dropkicked his face straight into the wall. His helmet cracked against the tremendous pressure. "It's now or never” she thought, as she cast Cataclysm and swiped at one half of the Red Hood’s helmet. She saw the helmet dissolve and reveal the target beneath.  She noticed that underneath the helmet he wore a red domino mask, not unlike the one she usually wore.  She would have time to think about how overly dramatic that was later, as she used her other hand to pick up the knife on the ground that the other goon left behind.  She jumped on top of the Red Hood, “Now perish!” she cried out as she thrusted the blade towards the exposed part of his face. Red Hood recovered quickly and caught her hand holding the blade. As the two struggled for the knife, Lady Noire tried to swipe at him with Cataclysm again.  Suddenly, she felt the power of 50,000 volts coursing through her, as the Red Hood activated the taser hidden in his chest piece.  She powered through, running purely on anger, grief and adrenaline. She was only able to struggle for about a minute, before passing out from the pain.  Red Hood flipped Lady Noire’s unconscious body aside, before he took off his helmet to inspect the damage. "The hell?." he pondered, "So, indestructible staff that can do double duty as a shield, and the ability to disintegrate things with one touch. Let's find out who you really are."  He slowly stood up and looked down at her unconscious body. He tried to peel away her domino mask, yet it would not come off. He tugged on the mask, even to the point of lifting the unconscious girl off the ground. He released the mask, and let the body drop with a small thud.  The Red Hood began talking to himself "She either superglued the mask on or it’s something else. Considering all that she can do, I'd say 80% chance it's magic and 20% a lantern. Either way a 100% pain in my ass".  He heard a small beeping noise and gingerly lifted her hand up off the floor.  As it emitted black and green energy, he noticed that she had a ring on.  The beeping came from a small picture of a paw print, which was missing a few pads.  If she was a lantern, that ring was going to run out of charge any moment now.  He took out his phone and called the Iceberg Lounge. He requested that they send for a van to pick him up and his new guest.   He requested that the Su Sisters get her cleaned up and ready. He needed to find out who sent her and who she worked for. He took out the special handcuffs that Batman designed when dealing with metahumans. As he walked towards Lady Noire about to cuff her, he heard some more beeping, followed by a bright light surrounding her.  Her suit and mask disappeared, leaving behind a small girl in pastel pink clothes who was probably no older than 15 or 16.  Her long braid changed back into a couple of shoulder-length pigtails, and she had a pink backpack on her back.  Jason looked inside the bag, there were a few sets of clothes, a wallet and an antique Chinese jewelry box.  He wondered if that ring was just one of many tools in her arsenal.  Jason's eyes widened, he recognised her as the girl he saw a few weeks ago when the turf war in Crime Alley broke out.  "What’s she doing here?" he said to himself aloud, “ Idiot” he muttered. He remembered following the girl and her GCPD escort to make sure she boarded her flight back to Paris.  She was supposed to be with her remaining family. Yet she came back to, no, ran away to Gotham City.  All for revenge.  He checked her wallet and saw the name printed on it, he sighed, this just confirmed that she was the same girl. When she had her revenge, what would she do then?  He wasn’t the undisputed master of thinking things through, but even he thought she was a fool to come back here.  Gotham City didn’t have the best track record dealing with orphans.  He knew this from personal experience, but there was that time where many were rounded up and sent upstate to juvie, for the crime of trying to survive on the streets.  He would have been in the same position, had it not been for his own fateful encounter in Crime Alley. He shuddered to think what her other option would be in a place like Gotham City, becoming a Robin.  Part of the reason he wanted her out of Gotham was so that Bruce wouldn’t get any ideas about taking her in.  When the car arrived, he scooped up the girl in his arms and carried her towards it.  Marinette woke up with her heart beating frantically in her chest, the first thing she saw was a bright light.  She was dead, she had to be, the last thing she remembered was confronting the Red Hood and now he had killed her.  She slowly sat up, she looked down to find that someone had changed her clothes, she was wearing light blue pajamas.  She started to look around, to her left there was a large floor to ceiling window where she could see a city at night with bright twinkling lights.  On the table next to her was the Miracle box, she quickly grabbed the box and looked through it. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw that all the Miraculous she brought with her were still there.   Suddenly, Marinette heard someone clear their throat.  At the foot of the bed, stood a rather large woman who had a bundle of clothes in her hand.  Next to her was a blonde woman with pink highlights who had a tray of food. “Oh good, you’re finally awake” the large woman said gruffly, she set the clothes down on the edge of the bed.  The blonde girl set a tea tray down in front of her, along with a couple of pastries.  Marinette’s heart sank at the sight of the croissants, they reminded her of her parents and their bakery. “Eat up and get dressed, the boss wants to see you later” the blonde woman told her, before skipping to the larger woman’s side.  Just as the two were about to leave, Marinette piped up, “Um, where am I?” she asked, “Who is your boss?” “You’re in the Iceberg Lounge in Gotham City”, the large woman told her gruffly.  “The name’s Suzie, this is one of my sisters, Candy. Our boss is the owner.”  Marinette gave an awkward wave as they left, and Candy returned it with a more cheerful one.    She took a bite out of the croissant, it tasted cold and dry. However, if she was going to defeat the Red Hood, she’d need all her strength. She put Plagg’s ring back in the box and reached for Ladybug’s earrings; she needed a new tactic.  When Tikki appeared in front of her, she also quickly looked around the room before looking back at Marinette with a concerned look on her face. “I couldn’t do it,” Marinette explained “he managed to stop me and I ended up back here”. Tikki’s eyes were sympathetic as Marinette held her closer to her face, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?” Tikki asked.  “For now, I have to get changed and go upstairs to meet the boss.  Maybe he’s the one who found me after the fight was over” Marinette theorized as she gave Tikki the cookie from the tray.  While Tikki quietly nibbled at it, Marinette stood up and walked over to the edge of the bed.  Inside the small bundle of clothes were a simple white blouse and black skirt. They were a little big, she would probably hem it if she had her sewing machine.    Moments later, a tall woman with dark hair led Marinette into the penthouse, a large room with a desk in the corner.   A tall man in a suit stood with his back towards the door, overlooking the sparkling city skyline.  She slowly stepped inside, looking around the room as she walked towards the man.  “Um hi, who are you?” Marinette asked as she apprehensively walked towards him.  She couldn’t help but feel small in that grand high-ceiling room. “I am the owner of the Iceberg Lounge,” he explained. “I guess the question I should be asking is…” he turned towards her and Marinette saw he had a domino mask over his eyes and a red half mask covering his nose and mouth, “who are you?” He threw something at her and she caught it.  She looked down and saw the Red Hood’s helmet, half of it looked as though someone tried to tear the metal open.  Then she remembered everything she had researched about the Red Hood, and the fight that took place not long after she arrived back in Gotham. “You…” she hissed. To be continued...

#jasonettejuly2021 #jasonette #maribat #ml x dc

[lilyofthesword-writes]

Blind Date (Kurama Oneshot)

Summary: Your coworker Kuwabara convinces you to join him and some friends for drinks after work. Something was not quite right about the whole situation. Then you meet Shuuchi. Takes place post-canon.

Pairing: Kurama x Reader

Word Count: 4,476

Disclaimers/Warnings: Just fluff.

A/N: I really need to get back into Yu Yu Hakusho. It was my first and favorite anime. I haven’t written anything for this series since I was in middle school. Really hope I got certain details right. It’s been a while... I do remember Kurama’s lore differing between the English and Japanese versions. Went more for the Japanese. And holy crap there are so many spelling iterations for certain names. I chose the ones I remember. Also, I’ve never actually been to Japan but have been studying the language and culture to travel there one day. Translations for certain words are at the bottom just in case.

Masterlist

To say your coworker tricked would not necessarily be fair. When Kuwabara invited you for drinks on a Friday night, he was acting suspiciously normal - the “keeping it cool” kind of normal. In the year you had known him, he was generally loud, borderline obnoxious while still having the biggest heart you’d ever known. The hulking redhead was an absolute softy. Despite being tired from overtime during the week, you couldn’t bring yourself to say, “No.” You did, however, interrogate him on the details.

“Where is this at?” you sighed defeatedly.

“The izakaya a block over. Right after work,” he grinned, the corners of his mouth not quite reaching his eyes.

That was a start. Good food and drink. But what was he up to?

“How many people?”

Kuwabara swallowed a large chunk of omuraisu. “Just a handful. I know you don’t like large crowds. If it makes you feel any better, Yukina will be there!”

Ah, yes. Little Yukina. You had met her multiple when she would stop by the office to bring him a bento lunch. She was a sweetheart.

“That’s a given,” you smirked. “You two are almost inseparable.”

“Yeah, well...” His face turned red as a strawberry. “I’m just glad she said, ‘Yes.’ Your idea of a low-key proposal was perfect.”

“Oh, stop! She would have accepted regardless,” you waved off his praise. “Now don’t distract me. Who else will be there?”

He held up a finger for each person he listed. “Urameshi, Keiko and Ku- Minamino.”

The stutter on the last name did not go unnoticed but you chose to let it slide. Minamino... You could at least tell Kuwabara gave you the person’s family name.

“Who is that?” You quirked an eyebrow while sipping your bottled tea.

“Heh? You’ve met Urameshi Yusuke before, but I don’t think you’ve met his wife Keiko...”

“No, I mean Minamino-san.”

Choking on his drink like you weren’t supposed to catch him deflecting the conversation, he set his bottle down. “Old friend of ours. Urameshi and I met ‘em when we were in middle school.”

Still not much to go off of. You leaned back in your seat with a grimace. They had all known each other for so long. It would be way too awkward for a newbie like you to just join in.

“Look.” Kuwabara rested his arms on the table. “It’ll be fun. I promise! It’s just a few drinks. And besides you need a break from all the studying.”

“The N1 won’t pass itself,” you scoffed playfully.

“You don’t even need that last JLPT level for your job. You can afford one night to enjoy yourself.”

You glanced up into his pleading eyes. Groaning dramatically, you relented. “Fine! I’ll go...”

Your redhead coworker fist pumped in victory.

“But!” He froze. “If I fail that exam, I’m blaming you.”

His laugh bounced off the walls of the lunch room, garnering the attention of some of the other employees. “Fair enough!”

The end of the day came faster than you had expected. Kuwabara was already hovering around your cubicle as you closed the last of your files, obviously suspecting that you might try to sneak out on him. Begrudgingly, you trailed after him to the izakaya.

Your mood immediately brightened when Yukina spotted you and called out in the most adorable way possible. She was waiting patiently with Yusuke (as he preferred you to call him) and who you guessed was Keiko. The other person Kuwabara had mentioned was absent.

“Yukina-chan! Good to see you, again. It’s been a while,” you beamed at her.

She nodded apologetically. “Yes. I’ve been getting the public area of the dojo ready for cherry blossom viewing.”

“Ah! I forgot that was coming up...”

You had managed to miss the last of the cherry blossom season the year prior. Moving to Japan was a huge stepping stone in your life.

“You should join us there in a few weeks,” she invited, motioning to the group. “We will all be there.”

“Speaking of,” Kuwabara interjected. “You’ve already met Urameshi. This is Keiko.”

“Nice to meet you,” you bowed lightly.

Keiko responded in kind.

“So where is Minamino?” Kuwabara looked around.

“Mina- Oh!” Yusuke’s confusion seemed to clear with a sharp look from Keiko. “Yeah! Shouldn’t be too far behind.”

What was with the weird air around this person’s name?

It was then you noticed a head of crimson hair rounded the corner.

“There you are!” Kuwabara waved the new redhead over.

He waited to reach you all before speaking. “I had a last minute to report to finish. I hope you haven’t been waiting too long for me.”

“Nah!” Yusuke responded with a grin, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just got here a couple minutes ago.”

You had to admit this Minamino guy was pleasing to the eye. His deep green eyes worked perfectly with that long hair. That, however, did not stop you from shooting a quick scowl at Kuwabara. He was trying to set you up. Again.

Your coworker grinned shamelessly at you. “So, this is Minamino Shuuichi.” He then proceeded to introduce you.

“It’s nice to meet you, Minamino-san,” you politely smiled into a bow.

He mirrored you in the pleasantries. “The pleasure is mine. And Shuuichi is fine.”

You then found yourselves ushered inside, Kuwabara not wanting to let you escape the outing. You were trapped in between Yukina and Keiko. The boys had done the same with Shuuichi who looked about as pleased as you. How many times had they forced him into the same situation.

A round of sake and karaage was served and the chatter continued. While everyone else joked about, you kept mostly to yourself, only throwing in quips at various intervals. Shuuichi was on the quiet side but was still fairly engaged. He seemed a bit... Overwhelmed might have been the right word for it. It was when he excused himself to go the restroom that things livened up in a sense.

Yusuke mentioned a time when they were in middle school and he had “rescued” Kuwabara and his kitten from a rival gang. His wording choice set Kuwabara off, stating he could have handled it himself. Of course that sparked a heated yet somehow still playful argument between the two. So not too different from the first time you had met them. By the time Shuuichi returned, Yusuke had slid into his seat to keep the fight going with Keiko snagging the one her husband previously occupied in an attempt to calm him down. Poor Yukina was trying her best to get Kuwabara to change the subject. With no other choice, Shuuichi took the empty spot next to you. A small part of you wondered just how much of this your coworker had actually planned.

Leaning towards Shuuichi slightly, you wondered out loud, “Is this normal for them?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “What started it this time?”

“Something about a gang kidnapping a kitten... Aikichi I think was its name.”

“Ah! I remember that story. It usually does end like this.”

You took a sip of sake while venturing a glance at Shuuichi. He wasn’t glued to the verbal fight taking place like everyone else. He was watching you curiously but intently with those malachite eyes.

Before you could respond, Keiko and Yukina had given up and turned back to you.

“So Kuwabara mentioned you’re from out of the country,” Keiko started, now pointedly ignoring her husband. “Your Japanese is great! How long have you lived here?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Embarrassment was clear in your voice. “I’ve still a lot to learn. It’s only been a little over a year since I moved.”

“Heh?! You’ve been here that long and Kuwabara hasn’t invited you to join us before?” She shot a glare towards him that he pretended not to see.

Either he was great at multitasking or the argument was truly planned, because he indignantly responded, “I have, too! There’s always some excuse like work or studying. Mostly studying.”

“Like I told you already, that exam won’t pass itself,” you quipped light-heartedly, a snarky smile adorning your face.

“Like I told you already,” he mocked, “you don’t even need the N1.”

“Woah! Like JLPT N1?” Yusuke chimed in.

“Y-yeah,” you looked away, resisting the urge to hide your face in your hands.

Shuuichi’s gaze on you was so potent you could practically feel it. “Seems you’ve been studying the language more than you’ve led us to believe.”

When you finally looked at him to give a snarky retort, his lips were curled in a playful smirk. Whatever words you had planned abandoned your tongue in that moment. This guy was definitely enjoying himself now.

“So Kazuma said you had taken the N2 exam shortly after moving here, right?” Yukina piped up.

“Yes...” you drawled. What was she getting at?

“Well, amidst all the chaos, did you ever get the chance to do any cherry blossom viewing?”

Was this her version of a segue? Was she giving you an out?

“Mmm... I did technically see them but I never did go to a park or anywhere else with a group like everyone else...”

“Oh!” Keiko clapped excitedly. “Now you definitely have to come to the dojo when the season is in full swing!”

With that she gave you her number so she could contact you about it later, prompting everyone to exchange numbers with you. Though hesitant at first, even Shuuichi followed suit.

The rest of the night was pleasant and without another incident between Yusuke and Kuwabara. Maybe you should have taken up the offers for drinks sooner. You were actually having fun. Shuuichi grew a bit more lively, throwing his two cents into the conversation more often. At one point, he rested a hand on the back of your chair, leaning a bit closer to you without it being uncomfortable. It could have just been the alcohol causing him to relax more, but part of you wanted to believe he was enjoying himself.

It felt like it ended too quickly. Now outside, your phone showed how late it had gotten. It was time for the band of misfits to go their separate ways. Yusuke and Keiko were the first to depart for the nearby station, but not before Keiko insisted you text her in the morning. Both Kuwabara and Yukina wished you well before going their own way, leaving you with Shuuichi.

“I guess that’s my cue to head home. See you around?” You took a step away towards your apartment building.

“Yes,” Shuuichi cleared his throat. “If it’s not too forward, may I walk you home?”

Your hands wrung together nervously. “Are you sure? My apartment is literally just around the corner.”

His smile was bright even under the veil of darkness. “I am, yes. I would feel better knowing for sure you made it back safely.”

Relenting, your lips tugged up into a shy smile. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind the company.”

You didn’t see Shuuichi again until you all met up at the station a few weeks later, but you did hear from him quite a bit. He texted you frequently, most of the conversations short like he wasn’t quite comfortable with that communication method. There were, however, a few longer ones that let you get a tiny read on his personality. Calm energy, intelligent, a hint of mischief. Kuwabara had done a much better job at pairing you up this time.

It was early on a Sunday morning and thankfully the station was not as busy as it usually was on the weekdays. Shuuichi had made it there before everyone else, the morning light causing his hair to shimmer like rubies. You barely had a chance to greet him before Yusuke and Keiko arrived along with the ever prompt train. Once you had found your seats, Shuuichi settled next to you, allowing you to have the window.

“Have you ever been to the countryside?” Keiko asked, stealing your attention from the speeding landscape.

You shook your head. “Not yet. Work keeps me fairly busy.” You hadn’t even taken much vacation time aside from Golden Week last summer.

“A lot of firsts for you today,” Shuuichi smiled. “This will be quite the adventure.”

The way his face lit up was infectious.

The rest of your time was spent with the gang informing you on what to expect which honestly wasn’t much, but they did try to make it sound exciting. It was mostly just hanging out under the trees with some drinks and snacks - casual and relaxing. Yusuke livened it up, regaling stories about sparring with Kuwabara and always winning. Leaning in to murmur in your ear, Shuuichi clarified that it was almost always. Kuwabara had managed to get the jump on him a few times. Your snicker earned you both Yusuke’s glare before he continued with how he was just holding back so he didn’t hospitalize his friend.

It wasn’t until the train reached your destination that you noticed the mountainous landscape dotted with dense tree lines that were devoid of any cherry blossoms. Odd considering that is what you came here for. Shuuichi stood, holding out a hand to help you up which you gratefully took. This station was tiny compared to the prefecture you left behind, more like a platform than anything. The group led you down a long winding path before reaching a massive stairway with larger than life torii framing the entrance.

Calling out for a race, Yusuke bolted up the steps with an annoyed Keiko chasing after him.

“Forever a teenager,” Shuuichi laughed and shook his head.

You nudged his arm just as you started up the stairs. “At least he’s having fun.”

“Fair point.” He skipped a couple steps to trail up by your side.

Reaching the top, you finally saw what you had really missed out on last spring. The blossoms were absolute perfection, better than what you had seen online. They were white giving off an ethereal, pale pink glow as the sun shone through the thin petals. The wind had gently released some of the flowers from their branches, littering them on the ground.

“Are you alright?” Shuuichi called to you, his hand brushing your elbow.

Your mind snapped back to reality. You didn’t even realize you had stopped walking until then. “Y-yeah. I just... This is...”

Beautiful, wonderful, gorgeous, serene... None of the words would transfer out of your brain to your voice.

“Breathtaking?” he finished for you.

All you could do was nod, about to be lost in the haze of petals, again. Before you could, the movement of Kuwabara waving at you all caught your attention.

“Come on.” Shuuichi grazed your forearm as he left your elbow to take your hand. “We’re being left behind.”

His warm hand was a nice contrast to the cooler weather and you had no issue with holding it as he brought you with him to follow the others towards a more secluded spot to view the blossoms. Yukina sat on a blanket that was already laid out under one of the trees with food and drink, greeting you all as you picked a spot to rest.

You could see why this was a yearly tradition. Aside from one moment when Yusuke and Kuwabara tried to randomly spar after another argument, the day went by relatively peacefully. It was a shame when sundown was approaching. It was time to head home. Working together, you helped clean up and bring everything inside. The sun was just hitting the horizon by the time you made it back to the station platform. Thankfully, you didn’t need to wait long for the train. Exhaustion overwhelmed you shortly after you took your seat, falling asleep within twenty minutes.

A gentle squeeze to your hand brought you out of your slumber. The sky had darkened considerably. You found yourself leaning on Shuuichi’s shoulder. When did...

Bolting upright, you stammered, “I’m so so-”

“Don’t be,” he smiled and stood, holding out his hand like before. “Let’s get you back to your apartment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Yusuke’s wide grin as you took Shuuichi’s offer. The redhead must have seen him and just shook his head as led you off the train.

Shuuichi: Good morning

You: Morning! What’s up?

Shuuichi: Any chance you’re available tomorrow night? I was thinking the new kaitenzushi that opened.

You: The one a few blocks down from that izakaya?

Shuuichi: That’s the one!

You: Sounds like fun. Sure!

This was how a lot of your weeks were going. One of you would text the other about meeting up with Kuwabara finding out and grilling you with questions the following work day. He always wanted details to see if Shuuichi had made a move yet. Despite your ever growing crush (something you would never admit to your coworker), the most you two had done was hold hands when he would lead you somewhere. Even through the genuine joy you could see he felt, he was still holding back.

You were mulling all this over one evening while watering the plants on your poor excuse for a balcony. What would you label your relationship? Was there even one you could use? You were friends but felt there was something more. Or at least, that’s what a small part of you wanted to think, a part the Kuwabara shamelessly encouraged, insisting Shuuichi liked you more than he let on.

Setting down the small watering can, you headed inside and went to close the sliding door. Before you could get very far, a black blur shot through the opening, coming to a halt on the table you had recently pushed aside to lay out your futon. The blur turned out to be a spikey-haired man of a shorter stature. His piercing red eyes bored into your very soul. Dramatic? Yes. Is that what it felt like? Absolutely.

“So, you’re the one Kurama has grown fond of,” he sneered.

“Wha- Who’s Kurama?” Out of all the questions swirling in your mind, that was the only one you managed to voice.

You were frozen to the spot. If he could reach your balcony on the fifth floor and move as fast as he just did, you didn’t have much hope of escaping.

“Tch,” he scoffed. “He hasn’t even told you. If you’re as intelligent as he claims, you should be able to figure it out. You’ve spent much time together.”

The only person you could think of was... Oh... That first night at the Izakaya. Kuwabara’s stuttering. Yusuke’s confusion.

“Shuuichi...” Your voice was barely a murmur.

“Hn. Not bad. Didn’t take you as long as I thought.” The man hopped off your table and passed by you on his way out. “Hiei, by the way.”

And he was gone.

Another dinner with Shuuichi was planned for a few nights later. You hadn’t texted him about your “introduction” with Hiei, feeling it was better to talk to him in person about it. The later part of your work day was overwhelmed with your anxiety, so much to the point where Kuwabara was stopping by your cubicle regularly to make sure you were okay. You weren’t.

If Shuuichi really was this Kurama, what did that mean? Unless comic book heroes were coming to life, Hiei obviously was not human. No human could move like that. So then, what was Shuuichi? Not that it really mattered. You were more curious than anything, feeling that you had an accurate read on his personality. Lying by omission was probably the closest he was to being flat out deceitful. Right? He hadn’t done anything to hurt you and it was doubtful that he would. But what would he do if you confronted him about all this?

Your thoughts continued to cloud your mind as you left the office and headed to the izakaya you originally met at. Shuuichi was waiting just outside the restaurant door which he held open for you when you reached him. The smile he greeted you with seemed burdened.

Making yourself comfortable at a small booth, Shuuichi sat across from you. This was usually the part where you would ask each other about their day but that didn’t seem like it was going to happen. The awkward silence permeated the air even when the server came to take your drink order.

“Is everything okay?” You fiddled with your hands in your lap, finally deciding the quiet was too much.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” he spoke softly, watching you carefully like anything too sudden would cause you to bolt. “You seem distracted.”

“You could say that,” you sighed.

Two beers were brought to the table before you could say anything else.

You took a swig from your glass before beginning again. “So, I met someone earlier this week...”

“Oh?” He calmly took a sip of his drink.

Nodding, you continued, “Mhmm... His name was Hiei.”

Shuuichi’s movement faltered as he set his glass down.

“So you do know him,” you confirmed softly.

“I did not say anything,” he tried to defend.

“You didn’t need to.”

Looking up into his eyes, there were no traces of anger, just uncertainty. “What did he tell you?” he cleared his throat.

“He called you ‘Kurama’. Honestly, that was about it.”

Suddenly the bubbles swirling in his beer were the most interesting thing in front of him at that moment. “I see... I do go by that in a certain circle.”

“I’m assuming Kuwabara and Yusuke are part of that circle.”

He arched an eyebrow at you. “What makes you say that?”

You snickered half-heartedly. “Looking back at it, they almost blew it the day we met.”

“That does sound like them,” his lips turned up in a smirk.

“So what is with the name? Is it just a nickname or is there something else to it?” You leaned on the table curiously, your beer long forgotten.

“There is something but...” He sat back against the booth cushion. “I’m not sure if I should talk about it, especially here.”

You nodded. “Okay. But just to satiate my curiosity, does it have anything to do with what Hiei is?”

His eyes widened with confusion. “With what he is? Why wou-” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “He showed up on your balcony.”

“Yup. He’s pretty quick for someone so tiny.”

“That he is,” he chuckled with an edge of surprise, probably not expecting you to take this so well.

Leaning in closer, you ask, “So I take it that, yes, he is not human?”

Shuuichi sat up straight, lacing his fingers together while bracing his elbows on the tabletop. He examined you for a few moments before striking up a bargain. “How about this: We have our drinks and enjoy our time here. Afterwards, we can head to the park and I answer your questions there.”

It wasn’t necessarily a bad plan. The park was a public area. There was more of a chance of someone else being around in case something happened.

“Deal.”

You raised your glass to clink against his and he obliged.

The summer air was warm with a light breeze to keep it comfortable. Shuuichi had led you to a park bench where you both rested. He angled himself to where he was partially facing you.

“Are you sure you want to know?” The seriousness of his eyes tampered with your temptation.

“In all honesty?” You met his gaze. “I’m not sure... But I’ve come this far. Might as well.”

He sighed, “Alright then... What would you say if I told you that youkai exist?”

“Well,” you contemplated while worrying your bottom lip. “I guess it’s surprising, to say the least, though not completely outlandish.”

His eyebrows shot up. “So you would believe me, then?”

“I already do, Shuuichi. Every culture seems to have their own version of youkai, demons, fairies and all that. And while it could just be that humans are collectively unimaginative, is it really so hard to believe that some of it might be real? After meeting Hiei... It kind of opened up a new door of possibilities.”

To say he was stunned would be yet another understatement. He flopped against the bench, letting his arms rest on top of the back. He had diverted his gaze away from you and looked off in the distance. Cicadas took their chance to fill the silence between you.

“He’s forcing my hand and he’s not even here,” Shuuichi murmured. “Yes, about Hiei.”

You propped an elbow on the back of the bench, leaning on your arm to fully face him. “And what about you?” you asked with soft curiosity.

When he looked back at you, you could have sworn his eyes were a golden amber for a split second. “Yes and no...”

Tilting your head quizzically, you urged him on. In short, he was a thieving kitsune known as Youko Kurama from another world called the Makai where most youkai resided. About to be killed, his soul left his body and found refuge in the human world, in a human baby still in the womb. He even gave you a smattering of information about his life as a human; His mother is an absolute saint, especially so when he met Yusuke.

“Does it bother you?”

“What? That you aren’t totally human?”

At some point, you two had moved closer together, shoulders grazing each other.

“Yes...”

“Not really, no.”

His body stiffened noticeably. “Why? I’ve done horrible things in my life.”

“And?” You laid your hand on his and squeezed it gently. “What you were and are does not change who you are. If you are as terrible as you claim, you would not be feeling guilt and regret right now.”

“I could hurt you,” he spoke in a low voice.

“You could. But. I don’t think you would. There have been plenty of situations where you could have, yet you didn’t.

He flipped his hand over to cling to yours. “But-”

“No,” you stopped him. “You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself right now.”

His emerald eyes stared back at you with a sigh. “Are you sure? I have refused romantic relationships in the past because of the dangers.”

“Kurama...” The name he gave you the choice to use rolled off your tongue. “You deserve happiness and you should not have to hide yourself.”

That was the real truth of the matter. He didn’t want to deceive his significant other like he had his mother.

He pulled his hand away from yours and cupped your cheeks instead. “I would like that,” his breathed, warm breath fanning against your lips as he brought you closer.

Translations:

Izakaya- Japanese pub/tavern

Omuraisu- Omlette over bed of rice

Karaage- Japanese fried chicken (Bite-sized. Usually found in Izakaya)

Torii- Tall, red gateway generally at the entrance of or inside a Shinto shrine. Marks a sacred/spiritual area.

Kaitenzushi- Conveyor belt sushi restaurant

And for those who don’t know, JLPT is the Japanese Language Proficiency Test. N1 is the hardest level.

#kurama x reader #kurama x you #shuichi x reader #shuichi x you #shuuichi x reader #shuuichi x you #suichi x reader #suichi x you #shuichi minamino x reader #shuichi minamino x you #shuuichi minamino x reader #shuuichi minamino x you #suichi minamino x reader #suichi minamino x you #kurama #shuichi #shuichi minamino #suichi #suichi minamino #shuuichi #shuuichi minamino #yusuke urameshi #kazuma kuwabara #keiko yukimura #yukina #hiei #hiei jaganshi #yu yu hakusho #yu yu hakusho fanfic #yu yu hakusho fanfiction

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days.

summary: sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

chapter:  4/?

characters: sirius black, regulus black, wolfstar, background marauders

tags: tw: canon compliant abuse, child abuse, social services, abuse

words: 3. 8 k

read it on ao3 here

read the last chapter here

Sirius knew that work was going to be high stress all day. He felt sick to his stomach, thinking about the way he would continuously have to talk to people, when all he wanted was some peace. He wanted downtime. Time when he didn’t have to think about how he needed his paycheck to put food on the table, clothes on his brother’s back, pay bills to keep his lights on, wifi for homework. Regulus occupied his thoughts at all times, protecting him was Sirius’s only priority these days. He didn’t have time for anything else. Not his friends, not his interests, not music. Nothing could come between his focus and his brother’s wellbeing, because if it did, Sirius would never forgive himself. The consequences were too dire. So instead, he just wished for downtime that wouldn’t come, and prayed for the weekend to approach even faster. 

The weekend, when he could finally sleep again, albeit not well. The weekend, when he had the time to take a breath, even if it was only brief. Because his weekends were also spent finding ways to better equip his apartment for his younger brother, going to long grocery runs so Regulus had lunch to take to school, meal prepping all of the things he couldn’t bring himself to eat for dinner. He was definitely tired of all of the ways his mind was spiraling out, he didn’t have the time. He didn’t fault Regulus for it, it wasn’t the teen's presence in his life that was causing all this stress. It really was his own fault. A bit of crying at that first hearing had given Walburga and Orion the satisfaction of a victory over him at that first hearing, and they seemed to crave more of that chaos. They wanted to watch their children suffer, and this was how they chose to do that. So instead he spiraled in the privacy of his own home, because he could practically hear the words they burned into his mind whenever he saw them, and feel the ache of old beatings. 

But it was only Thursday, and that meant he still had to do this all day, and  then get berated by the rest of the team for not attending their weekly bonding happy hour. If he was lucky,  no  one would ask him to go. He knew he should be less terrified of them asking, most of the people on his team were his friends. There was simply the question of Remus, and Sirius didn’t have the time to be thinking about him in the first place. 

He didn’t have time to think about  the way his hair curled just the right way to fall into his eyes when he slept, or the way his caramel freckles made him look sunkist. He didn’t have time to think about the  pink scars that ran down Remus’s face or how they got there. He definitely didn;’t have time to think of the comfort  of his hand combing through Sirius’s own mop of unruly curls. So instead, he needs to  put  all of that out  of his mind. It wasn’t going to help him do well at work. It wasn’t going to solve his problems. He didn’t have the  time for this, nor did he have the emotional bandwidth. Perhaps that was why Sirius was conveniently avoiding the idea that he had asked Remus on a date. With some luck, Remus would think he was just an asshole who ghosted him. That was definitely complicated by the fact that they worked together, that he couldn’t just disappear. He wanted to, he really did, because there was simply no time. 

He set up his deliverables as though he had made tons of them, because his employment in this company  rode on it. Just two months ago, he was pegged to be promoted within the next two cycles, and now he could barely hold on to his sanity enough to handle his workload. He was so fucking tired, and he had so much on his plate. He needed to mentally prepare himself for the long day of meetings ahead of him. He had no true motivation to do his job right now, all he knew was that his exhaustion was no excuse. He knew that his boss, Alice, was giving him a whole lot of leeway right now. She was probably doing more than she should to help him. Being a mentor on the senior design team didn’t mean she needed to keep tabs on his personal life and pick up his slack. 

“Sirius–” 

When Sirius focused back into the meeting he was calling into, it occurred to him that they’re talking to him. So he did what he always did, blamed it on a shoddy connection. 

“Oh, sorry, can you repeat that? My audio cut out.” 

“Remus was saying that some of  the poems could probably use illustrations, and he was wondering if you had any ideas on which ones needed it.” 

“Thanks, Peter.” Sirius was glad that he knew the people on this team, that Peter and James were as close to him as anyone could be. Because otherwise, he’d probably be fucked. 

“So I was looking through them, and I was thinking Bite, Magick, and Love I could probably use larger scale illustrations. But at the same time, we don’t want to crowd the book. How attached are you to the current order or page arrangement?” 

It felt too close, but he was lucky that he had at least read the titles of some of the poems in the first half of the book. Sirius knew Remus didn’t actually know what his level of involvement was. He thought it was just doodles, but Sirius would be responsible for presenting everything from kearning and font choice within the pages, to illustration and cover art to the design team. He was integral to the success of this book as a product, and he  needed to start acting like it. 

“I’m pretty attached.” Remus sounded cold to Sirius, and he wondered what exactly he had done wrong in this meeting. And yet, he didn’t have time to think on it. He needed to keep things moving, keep getting valuable information out of the author. Hook up be damned, Sirius needed this book to actually get off the ground. 

 “Okay, well we should get a meeting on the calender to discuss. What poems and what scale of illustrations you want–” 

“Shouldn’t you be deciding what the illustrations look like and the logistics of those. Isn’t that what you  get paid for?” Remus really wasn’t making this easy on Sirius. But he had dealt with bigger demons and divas then whatever this attitude was. So he put on a light and airy smile, one they’d never know didn’t reach his eyes over the low quality webcam and nodded. 

“If you’d like to take a hands off approach with the design work, that can absolutely be arranged. But in the case of a fledgling project with a new author, the design team, myself included, really hope to prioritize your artistic license so that we can get a better sense of your vision for your literature, should Quill move forward with other publications in the future.  We can provide a completely in-house service, with as much input as you feel necessary during the design process, and deliver collateral towards the end of the project when final edits are done, if you would prefer, Mister Lupin.” 

Sirius practically wanted to scream. He needed Remus to stop fucking with his job, with his livelihood. He couldn’t lose this project. He needed all of the billable hours he could get if he was going to justify the overtime he needed in order to provide for his brother. This was ridiculous. But his clinical and polite answer must have thrown Remus, because he didn’t get much more attitude out of him. The back and forth had ended. So instead, Sirius pulled up his deliverables for the week, which included new iterations for the covers, and twelve illustrations for the three poems he had mentioned. 

He noticed the way Remus looked at his drawings, like he was pained by whatever his thoughts were, and Sirius wants to scream that he’s under no obligation to think that they’re good. But then he remembers that Remus seemed to be nitpicking on purpose, based on his critique of the design system itself. Sirius didn’t have the time to deal with that level of petty, just because he hadn’t been answering. He was too busy. He had too much on his plate. So instead he continues his presentation. 

“I don’t like any of these. Maybe you should start over.” Remus sounded vindictive, even mean. Like he was doing this out of spite.  Sirius could feel his heart drop in that moment. He didn’t want to start over. He didn’t have the time. 

“What do you not like about them?” Sirius is trying to salvage his work while he can. 

“The vibe is off.”

“Oh, is there something specific that throws it off or...” Sirius trailed off, wondering what exactly he needed to change. 

“No, it’s the whole thing. All of them are just off.” 

Sirius needed to think quick on his feet. He didn’t have the time to start from scratch, so he pulled up his original thumbnails that he had discussed with Remus. 

“These are the original sketches we discussed. I moved forward with the ones we talked about. I’m happy to rework those sketches,” no, he wasn’t. “But if there’s another sketch that you think would fit your vision better, please let me know.” He felt like he was pleading with Remus not to hate his artwork. He’d be a liar if he said it wasn’t a blow to his self esteem to hear that everything that he did was bad. 

“No, I would suggest you start over.” 

Sirius nodded, his mind immediately whirring with ways he could start over and re-design this project. He really didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do hundreds of thumbnails to get set on thirty, only to be destroyed in a meeting again. Especially when Remus seemed so excited about all of his illustrations before the meetings. It felt like too much. He didn’t have the energy for this kind of behavior. 

Luckily, Marlene directed the conversation away from Sirius’s work. The rest of the call went on without a hitch, like the only person who’s work Remus had a problem with was Sirius’s. He knew that it was more likely for Remus to have a problem with him, because design work was usually something an artist thought of as easy; however, this felt calculated and cold. If Sirius had been avoiding Remus before, it definitely wasn’t about to get better. So instead, he listened to the end of the meeting, and started the project all over again. He could do this. It was an unremarkable critique. It didn’t matter.

#sorry this ones so short #Marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders era fic #marauders drabble #regulus black #regulus black fic #regulus and sirius black #black family #sirius x remus #wolfstar #wolfstar fic #wolfstar angst #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #remus x sirius #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #modern au #modern marauders #my shit #unremarkable days

[yehet-about-it]

I Like Me Better | 24b - A Night to Remember

~ A Wayv Social Media AU Series ~

< Prev || Series Masterlist || Next >

Synopsis: You’ve just moved into a new apartment with your best friend Yangyang, but you’re immediately faced with a problem: your incredibly noisy upstairs neighbour Xiao Dejun, or to friends, Xiaojun. You spend the first few weeks of your acquaintance hating his guts, but after a sincere apology and a fascinating revelation about his passions and motivations you slowly begin to see past his cold exterior to discover the real him. What will happen as you get closer to this troubled boy and how will those closest to you react?

Pairing: Reader x Xiao Jun

Themes and Warnings: Explicit language, mild sexual content, mild violence and references to drinking/alcohol. Deals with themes of toxic masculinity, insecurity, gaslighting (sort of), and jealousy…

Start Date: 5th Nov 2020

~ Updates now every Monday, Wednesday & Friday @ 9pm GMT/3pm CST

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Word Count: 1.6k (i swear i did not mean for it to be this long lmao) Warnings: Tbh this is just a whole load of fluff. I may or may not have gotten a bit carried away...

You arrived back at your apartment in high spirits, laughing with yangyang as he tripped up the steps, falling onto your landing with a thud. “Agh that never happened!” Yangyang cackled, dragging himself up off the floor and brushing off his pants. “You moron,” you joked, sidling past him towards your door, fishing the key out of your coat pocket.

You sighed, chuckling to yourself as you slid the key in the lock, swinging the door open and standing against it to allow Yangyang in. “Go get some water and get yourself to bed, you mess” you called after Yangyang as he wandered into your apartment and down the hall to your kitchen, yapping on to himself about something or other. “I’m just going to go get Bella!” Letting Yangyang sort himself out, you shut the door behind you after dropping your bag in the hall and ambled up the stairs with a smile plastered on your face.

“Hey,” Xiaojun greeted, grinning at you as he answered the door. “Hey!” You grinned back at him, shuffling into his apartment as he let you in, shutting the door behind you. “Looks like you had a good day,” Xiaojun stated as he led you through into the living room. “Yeah, honestly it was amazing! Everything went so well, and well, I just feel super happy right now,” you babbled, still high from the day’s excitement, the adrenaline and the buzz of the two cocktails not yet having worn off. “How was your day? Did Bella behave?” You came to a stop by the dining table. “Yeah, she’s been perfect! We went for a couple of walks like you said, and she’s eaten plenty. She’s sleeping again now,” Xiaojun answered, nodding to the sofa where bella was curled up on another blanket. You cooed at the sight, uwu-ing over you and Yangyang’s little baby and how well she seemed to get on with Xiaojun. “Thanks for this Dejun, it means a lot” you said quietly, stepping closer to him so you could wrap your arms around his neck and press a small kiss to his lips. Xiaojun’s arms baring his rolled up hoodie sleeves, looped around your waist in response, settling your body against his in a warm embrace. “No problem, I’m glad you had a good day”.

You didn’t know whether it was just the adrenaline still in your system or the fact that you were now undeniably romantically attracted to Xiaojun, but unable to fight the urge, you pressed your lips to his again, this time with more passion, your body pressing against him as your lips danced with his. Thankfully, Xiaojun returned the kiss with just as much passion, his hands sliding up your waist as you opened your mouth, letting his tongue slide in, moving perfecty against yours.

As your hands gripped feverishly at Xiaojun’s collar, he moved you so you were pressed up against the table, and moving his hands to the back of your thighs he hoisted you up to sit on it, slotting nicely into the space between your legs. Soon, every part of your body was on fire with want, and you knew this was it. You wanted him.

Pulling away from the kiss, you looked up into his deep brown eyes with a newfound determination. “I think I’m ready” you whispered breathlessly, unable to deny the throbbing in your core. “You’re sure?” Xiaojun voiced, just as your jacket began slipping down your shoulders, and you shrugged it off, showing you were ready to be his for the night. “Yes.” You nodded, and with that you were in the air, being carried towards the bedroom for a night to remember.

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The next morning, you were awoken by the familiar feeling of something moving across your torso, and opened your eyes to see Bella had made her way into the bedroom and was clambering over you towards your face, wanting attention. “Hey girl!” you whispered, giggling as you picked her up off your stomach to cuddle her closer to your chest. “Thank you for being such a good girl yesterday, we’ll go home soon and get you some breakfast, don’t you worry” you cooed at her, petting her small, soft head. Looking around, you realised Xiaojun was still asleep, his chest steadily rising and falling with his breath, his expression looking unusually peaceful. A smirk emerged on your face as an idea popped into your head. “Hey Bella,” you whispered. “Why don’t we wake up Dejun huh?” Wiggling yourself to sit up slightly, you picked Bella up again and set her down right by Xiaojun’s face, and as you suspected, she began nuzzling against him, licking his face as she often did to you or Yangyang in the morning.

Xiaojun’s face twitched and his eyes flickered open as he responded to Bella’s attacks. “Wha-?!“ he started, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light and he realised what was going on. “Oh, hey Bella.” Xiaojun chuckled, raising his hands in an attempt to pick Bella up and stop her from slobbering all over his face. You giggled and your heart swelled as you watched your new beau play with your doggo, not even mad she’d woken him up and witnessing this, you felt a sense of joy. You realised that giving Xiaojun a chance to show you his true self may have been one of the bet decisions you’d ever made, because right now, you were falling head over heels for him.

“Morning,” you laughed as Bella finally ceased her attacks, opting to curl up under the covers between the two of you while Xiaojun turned to you, realising you were awake already. “Heh, morning,” he said rolling over properly to look at you, reaching out to pet Bella. “Sorry about that,” you chuckled, absolutely not sorry at all. “She came in here and I couldn’t resist”. Xiaojun smiled. “Well there’s worse ways to wake up…” he uttered, gazing at you softly, his attention now all on you instead of Bella.

You stared back at him temporarily dazed by the romanticness of the moment and Xiaojun reached out, brushing a few stray hairs out of your face. “True…” you breathed, mentally scolding your heart for pounding so damn loud. It was a small gesture compared to the activities of last night, but nevertheless it sent your head spinning. With Bella snuggled between you and Xiaojun looking at you with such adoring eyes, you couldn’t help but imagine that this was exactly how life might be everyday if Xiaojun asked you to be his girlfriend, and you definitely didn’t dislike that idea, but there were certainly a few hurdles you needed to get over before that could happen. One being to tell Kun about your newfound relationship with the boy he despised and hope he didn’t try to throttle him or get him evicted.

“How are you feeling?” Xiaojun questioned as you sat up, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. Thankfully you needn’t feel self conscious as the comforter fell away, since Xiaojun had lent you one of his grey shirts to sleep in, wanting to make sure you were warm and comfortable. “Hm pretty good”, you hummed, not hiding the knowing smile that adorned your face. You knew exactly what he meant by that. Xiaojun mirrored your actions, sitting up as he spoke. “Well, I think that was a pretty good way to celebrate…” You giggled, “yeah, it was.”

Feeling Bella pawing at you again you sighed, realising you needed to get her home for food and take her out so she didn’t end up pooping in Xiaojun’s apartment. “I hate to leave, but this one needs feeding, and walking” you said, scooping Bella up in your arms. “Sure” Xiaojun replied lifting the covers to reveal his toned, tank-top clad torso, before climbing out of bed and slipping into his sliders. You followed suit, putting Bella back on the floor and proceeding to gather your belongings as Xiaojun helped, handing you your coat and pants. You didn’t bother changing, because it was only a flight of stairs back to yours and you knew Yangyang would be out, so you’d be able to slip back and into the shower without arousing suspicion.

Walking out into the living room you stuffed your clothes into the bag of toys and essentials you’d left for xiaojun to bring up for Bella which he’d already packed neatly away last night. “You got everything baby?” Xiaojun called from the kitchen island where he was filling up his water bottle. ‘Baby?’ You thought. You could get used to that. He’d said it a number of times last night, but hearing him call you that in such a relaxed context felt especially nice.

“I think so!” you replied cheerfully, slinging the bag over your shoulder. “If not you can come get it later” Xiaojun iterated, having gulped down some water, sauntering back over to you and stopping just in front of you, followed by a chipper looking Bella. “Yeah sure. Thanks again for looking after her” you said, pressing a small kiss to Xiaojun’s lips, before bending down to scoop Bella up so she didn’t have to negotiate the stairs on your way back down to your place. “No problem,” xiaojun replied modestly, walking with you to the door. “I’ll see you later then?” “Yeah, I have a couple days off, so just text me if you wanna hang out.” You replied, before Xiaojun gave you another kiss, Bella sandwiched between the two of you. “Sure” he said pulling away and opening the door for you. “Bye then!” you cheered, before heading back down the stairs to your apartment.

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[athina-blaine]

MoMM Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

Chapter 3: The Empty Corridors

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I deserve that. Your friendship. After everything I’ve done since…”

“Of course you do. Listen to yourself; it’s not like you wanted to frighten me.” An inch of space sat between their hands. “Is this …? Um. Is this okay …?”

The winds continued to howl, and Martin's hand lay limp on the bed sheets. His face grew hot, and he started pulling back. Stupid idea. But then Jon slid his hand closer until their fingers brushed. Emboldened, Martin wrapped his hand around Jon's, his burn scar grazing the soft skin of Martin's palm.

He squeezed gently.

“No one deserves to be lonely, Jon.”

Jon had no response, staring out to the storm that continued knocking on their windows. He stared, and he let Martin hold his hand.

Chapter 4 - The Storm, Part 1

Martin was an optimist. He had to be. Anything else would have been utterly unbearable.

That being said, he was… relatively confident things would get better. Jon had confided in him the terrible secret of Magnus Manor and the truth of this hellish storm. The Lonely. And understanding a problem meant you were one step closer to solving it, right? It meant one step closer to getting out of the cursed estate you’d found yourself trapped in.

Most importantly, though, the two of them were talking again. Above all else, that gave him hope.

 Jon was waiting for him in the foyer the next morning. His nose was buried in a book, but when Martin approached, he looked up, and Martin liked to think he looked pleased.

“Good morning,” Martin said, hoping he didn’t sound too flustered.

“You as well. Would ... would you be amenable to sharing some morning tea? If ... if you're still offering ...”

“Y-yes, of course.” So yesterday hadn’t been a fluke; Jon wasn’t going to leave him alone again. “That sounds great. Um. English Breakfast, then?”

Jon smiled, nodded, and fetched them both a pot and one cup apiece. The porcelain warmed Martin’s aching fingers, a refreshing respite from the chill that crept so subtly through the halls.

They drank, and they talked about very little. Martin’s tongue burned with questions (–what’s it like living with these entities? How do they manifest? Will we get out of here soon?–), but he restrained himself; the age lining Jon’s face had soothed as he sipped his tea,  and when he asked Martin how he’d slept, there was a shy twist to his mouth.

Right now, Martin wanted to enjoy himself. Enjoy Jon and a warm cup of morning tea. There would be plenty of time to agonise later.

In the meantime, he’d just need to keep busy. Now was as good a time as any to give cleaning the manor another chance. Masochistic, maybe. Impossible, certainly. But at least this time he didn’t have to worry about being reprimanded. Probably.

One of the many study rooms that littered the estate would be a good place to start. Small as it was, its sooty fireplace and dusty couch was enough of a time sink for his purposes.

He was in the middle of battling a particularly stubborn stain when the door opened and Jon peered inside. Despite everything, Martin couldn’t help his trill of anxiety, made all the worse when Jon kissed his teeth.

“Must I iterate that it’s not necessary for you to – ”

“I want to.” It was still such a shock to just see Jon, to have them talking, that the words came out in a breathless, jumbled mess. “I promise. I-I like cleaning, honest. It keeps my mind off … you know, things.”

Jon paused mid-stride. For a moment, Martin thought he was going to be chased off anyway, and then he’d have to actually beg to clean, because the thought of spending another minute with nothing to do but contemplate their situation– 

“I–” Sighing, Jon brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Yes, fine, if you insist. So long as you understand that it is absolutely not an expectation of you.”

Martin’s shoulders sagged with relief. Another hurdle crossed.

He’d just convinced himself to relax and finally let his mind wander, soothed by the familiar, tediousness of cleaning a fireplace, when Jon unclasped his cloak, lying it over the sofa. 

“What are you doing?”

“Assisting you, obviously. Having you clean it in my stead when I’m the one responsible for it falling into disrepair doesn’t bear thinking about.”

Doesn’t bear thinking about. What didn’t bear thinking about was a man of Jon’s stature doing menial work like this in the first place. But Martin was hardly about to refuse his help … or his company, so freely given. “Um. Thank you. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, though. There’s literally no way you could have kept this place clean all by yourself.”

“I appreciate the reassurance, but the point is moot.”

Well, if Jon wanted to roll up his sleeves and work at a grimy fireplace, Martin wasn’t about to stop him. When Jon literally rolled up his sleeves, he bit back a smile. The skin of his forearms was paler than that of his hands and face, smooth and free of blemishes. When was the last time he’d enjoyed a bit of sunshine without his shirt buttoned up to the chin?

Not that Martin had any business considering a thing like that in the first place. God, his face was burning again.

“I hate cleaning,” Jon murmured as he dunked the spare cloth in the water bucket. “Nothing ever stays clean.”

“Yeah. Gotta do it, though. Oh, you should keep your elbow up. You won’t tire out your arm as quickly.”

“Oh. Yes, I see.” Jon sighed. “Perhaps the fault lies with me. I’ve never been particularly good at domesticity, after all. The rare times my grandmother was home, the only thing we talked about was how untidy my room was.”

Martin’s ears perked. The opportunity to learn more about Jon and his past? It was too enticing to resist. “Your gram wasn’t home much, then?”

“Not often. She was the matriarch of our family, so important business kept her in the capital most days.”

Oh. How … odd. Martin didn’t know anything about how noble families handled representing themselves, but … “I figured your mom or dad would take care of that sort of thing after a while. Did your gram just enjoy the work?”

“Both of my parents passed when I was a child.”

Martin’s stomach plunged to his feet. What a stupid blunder to make. “I’m … I’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Jon said, waving him away. “I was barely more than a baby at the time. I simply don’t remember enough of them to mourn their loss.”

Martin wasn’t sure if that made it worse. For all that Martin mourned the absence of his father, at least he had fleeting memories of warm hands and a deep voice to prove he’d existed at all. That he’d had a father once. “Still, that must have been … a bit lonely.” 

“Not at all. I always had my governess’ supervision. She provided the structure and discipline I required.” Jon laughed, a wistful, breathy thing, and lowered his head. “I was … a rather troublesome child.”

That did even less to make Martin feel better, because he suddenly had this image, unbidden, of a little boy with big eyes and gangly knees, head hanging as his grandmother told him off in clipped tones, before leaving once again to the bustling capital. No hugs, or gentle forehead kisses. Just a scolding about his messy bedroom.

I’m sure you were wonderful, he wanted to say. I’m sure you deserved better than that. 

But he was probably just projecting again.

“I’ve always liked cleaning,” Martin said, instead. “Makes me feel useful. My mum, she’s … she’s been sick most of my life. Nothing too serious,” Martin added quickly as Jon turned his head. “She just gets tired a lot. You know, hard to stay upright most of the time. There wasn’t a lot I could do to make her feel better, but keeping things clean helped.”

“I … I’m sorry to hear your mother is ill.”

“We were really lucky, actually. We lived in the same town as a really good doctor. He was really generous with us, but eventually … I-I couldn’t keep up with the bills running the farm all by myself, especially after our last goat died. We had to sell a few years ago, and I had to find work in the city.” Even after all this time, his throat tangled at the memory of leaving his childhood home. “Managed to land a really good job at the lord’s castle, so I always had money to send home. Every month. Haven’t been late once, yet. Until …”

“… Until now.”

Martin opened his mouth, because, well, he wasn’t late yet. There was still time for Martin to send his letter: about a week or so. That was plenty of time. But he refrained, because saying as much to Jon felt … dangerous. Like he was tempting fate. 

Things were going to work out. They had to. The storm was going to clear, they were going to get out of here, and then … 

“Your devotion to your mother is admirable,” said Jon.

Warmth ballooned in Martin’s stomach, spreading to the tips of his ears. It was an absurd thing to receive praise for (oh, you love your mother, really going above and beyond), but … well, it was still nice to hear, every once in a while. Or at all. “Thank you.”

It took most of the morning, but, with their combined efforts, they managed to restore the fireplace to an off-colour white. Martin stepped back, basking in the glow of a job well done. Jon, however, didn’t appear quite as chuffed as Martin felt. Rolling out his wrists, the man collapsed onto the couch, kicking up a cloud of dust in the process and triggering an intense coughing fit.

“Break time?” Martin asked, taking a much more gentle seat. His only answer was more coughing. Poor thing looked utterly done with the whole enterprise, if the curl of his nose was any indication. “So, what do you do for fun around here?”

“Fun?”

“Yeah. Unless you really intend to help me clean this room all day?”

Jon laughed, turning away sheepishly.  “I … yes, um … Well, this and that, I suppose. Reading, mostly. I’ve always had a penchant for it, and I’ve yet to make my way through the library. Um. Music, although it’s been quite some time since the gramophone worked. I took to baking for a time. I like to think I’d gotten rather good at it.”

“Wait, so you did bake that bread? When I first got here?” Martin thought back on it, how crispy the crust was, the soft and tasty inner dough, how fresh it had been. Martin couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten fresh bread. “That’s seriously amazing.”

“It’s hardly a complex task. But … yes, thank you.” Martin wasn’t sure if it was the haze of the dust, but Jon’s face looked a bit darker, a bit flushed. But then, the good humor in Jon’s eyes fell away. “And then there was the garden, of course. It was … well. A disaster, to put it mildly.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I killed everything, didn’t I?” Jon’s eyes dropped to his lap, shoulders sinking. “Not a single bulb flourished under my care. I … I eventually figured it was more merciful to give up than keep trying.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad.” Would be better to start with anything but roses, he wanted to suggest. You’re just setting yourself up to fail. But that would certainly come across as annoyingly patronising. “Maybe I can lend a hand?”

“Pardon?”

Wait. No. What business did Martin have making an offer like that? It wasn’t as if he knew any better about keeping things alive. But something about the resigned nature of Jon’s tone tore at him; his mouth had fallen open of its own accord. 

“I-I mean … Well, it might be fun, yeah?” Martin tried. “Personally, I’ve always wanted to learn how to garden.” 

“Is that so?”

Martin nodded, intending on leaving it there, but Jon was watching him, waiting. Oh.

“W-Well, uh, when I was a kid,” Martin said, face warming, “I’d always dreamed of having a, um, like a little cottage? That I owned? With a great big plot of land in the middle of a forest somewhere. Would get married, settle down, grow flowers and all kinds of food together. It’s … it’s a bit silly.”

“Not at all,” Jon said, eyes softening, and Martin’s heart fluttered something fierce. “I think that’s lovely.”

He smiled, hoping it didn’t come out as a grimace, because it had been a long, long time since he’d indulged in that particular fantasy. It just wasn’t feasible, these days, having a little cottage of his own or … or finding someone who’d want to marry him when he’s never even had a serious relationship before.

“Thank you, though, for your offer,” Jon said, cutting through Martin’s thoughts. “I’ll … be sure to consider it.”

The tight knot in Martin’s stomach unwound just a bit. “‘Course.”

By that point, the dust had become utterly unbearable, and they were forced to evacuate.

.

The brass of the door handle glimmered under the lamplight, rusted with age and disuse. How long had Martin been standing here, knees locked and shivering beneath the thick chill? Ages, by now. Griffiths was going to have his skin peeled for shirking his responsibilities like this, and the head butler would be perfectly within his rights.

But every time Martin tried to remind himself, that he still had so much work to do –

“… Hello?”

That voice. Still out there, somewhere behind the old door. Distant, but not beyond Martin’s reach. If Martin had already been here for ages, then that voice …

Wasn’t anyone coming for them?

If he opened the door, he could just take a quick look. Call out, see who needed help –

“And what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

Martin yanked his hand back, hand burnt on the molten brass.

“M-Mum?”

“I always knew you’d leave for good someday. I could see it in your eyes, you know. You couldn’t bear to take care of your poor, sick mother, and now you’re off to traipse about the countryside with some invert.”

“I didn’t leave.” Tight pressure strangled Martin’s throat, the back of his eyes burning. “I’d never do that. Where are you? I’m coming, I-I’ll find you–”

“And what, pray tell, would be the point of that?”

“Mum, please, just tell me where you are, I’m coming–”

“You’ve always been a wretched liar.”

.

Martin lurched upright, sucking painful gasps through his aching teeth, his sleep shirt sticking to his sweaty skin. No light permeated the windows— he may as well have been in a tomb, for all that he could see.

Jon was out there somewhere. Alone. As was his mother.

I’m coming back to you. I’ll find a way out of here. I’m doing everything I can– 

Liar.

Martin curled up onto his side, wrapping trembling arms around himself. Even though there was no one else to hear him, no one to stifle himself for, he drove his teeth into his lip until his mouth filled with the dull taste of copper.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #fanfiction #fic #[air horn noises] #yes chapter 4 will now be officially two chapters #their love just could not be contained #momm

[tobesobri]

𝓛iterally cannot believe there’s only four chapters left in this 😩This one is another turning point in the story and honestly possibly the saddest shit so far so i do hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

huge massive thank you to the incredible @youresogolden-h for editing ❤️

CHAPTER NINE: PRETENDING (4.6K)

Harry and Y/N are friends…. with benefits, but not the kinds you’re thinking of.

🥥MASTERLIST 🌃INSPO TAG 🌻ASK TAG 💃PLAYLIST 🛌

By the time Harry got home on Saturday, he felt like absolute shit. And it wasn’t because of the flight or his nonexistent jetlag, it was because his kitchen was tidier than he remembered and the pile of dirty clothes he’d left in the hamper in his closet was, instead, neatly folded on his bed. He felt like shit because while he was grasping at strings just to get anyone in his bed with him, she’d been here cleaning his place for him when she didn’t have to. 

She had made his bed again and wiped off the stray bits of his facial hair around the sink he’d left after shaving before hopping on his flight. 

There was no way she didn’t know about what he’d done in New York, not after the photos came out that had littered every inch of the internet. He knew she didn’t use social media often herself, but he was positive it had been brought to her attention at some point. So while she was here making his life easier, he’d been fucking around on the other side of the country. 

And he could never tell her why. That he missed her so much it seemed like a good idea in his drunken mind at the time. He’d just wanted someone to hold onto at night again so he could get some sleep, but instead he just got the awful sex he didn’t want and all the regrets to go along with it. He had no clue what she thought of him now, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

Still, he texted her and it might’ve been the cherry on top of all the dumb things he’d done this week, but it was getting late and he needed her. He needed to know she didn’t hate him. 

(Harry, 9:46 pm)

Can you come over tonight? I just got back.

She rolled over in her bed, grabbing her phone from her nightstand and squinting her eyes at the bright screen only long enough to know it was from Harry. Quickly after scanning her eyes across his message, she put her phone back, face down on her table before she curled up under her comforter. 

It was bad enough that she’d spent the past day and a half moping around her apartment, overthinking every single little thing. Even worse that she let it get to her last night, letting her pillows soak up her tears again, but she knew it would be too much to see him again right now. She just needed time to get over it. Harry could sleep with and see whomever he wanted and it shouldn’t affect her. She was just starting to accept that fact when he just had to fucking text her. 

Because she could also see who she wanted to without it affecting him. She just… didn’t want anyone else anywhere near her if it wasn’t Harry. 

Groaning, she rolled over again and texted him back. She still needed her time, but she was doing neither of them any favors by avoiding him. She didn’t want him to think she was mad or jealous or anything she had no right to be. He needed to know that if he’d found someone he wanted to be with that she wouldn’t get in the way. 

(Y/N, 9:58 pm)

Give me an hour.

It was plenty of time for her to take a shower and get her routines done first so that when she filled her backpack, she had no trouble packing lightly. Sneaking out of her apartment with twenty minutes to get her to Harry’s driveway wasn’t as difficult with a heavy bag on her shoulders, especially since her roommates knew she was supposed to be in her own bed tonight.

She used up all her spare time driving to Harry’s place when she paused in front of his neighbor’s bushes and almost turned her car right back around. But she didn’t want to feel the way she had been anymore, so she kept going. All the way to his front door.

Where he stood. Where he stood with his arms crossed over his chest in a black hoodie and matching sweatpants, pacing his short front porch until she pulled up.

He watched her while she got out of her car, slinging her backpack on before shutting the door and meeting his eyes warily. When she got closer to him, it was clear she was beyond confused as to why he was standing out in the cold waiting for her. He was clearly worried about something too, the way he pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index fingers, fidgeting in a way she’d gotten used to him doing when he was nervous or lost in thought.

He stared at her feet when she took the two steps up to the same level as him and it wasn’t until she stood there, silently waiting, that he scanned his eyes up her body and back to her face. A face he had a really hard time looking at without the urge to break out in tears.

“Is everything alright?” She finally asked.

He blinked once and then shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

His voice was a mumble from under the hood he had over his head. She knew what he was apologizing for, but he had no need to. They weren’t dating. He didn’t cheat on her. There was nothing between them that would stop him from doing what he wanted with who he wanted.

“It’s fine.” She mumbled. 

Now he was the confused one. Her words ricocheted back and forth through his brain. It’s fine. He almost would have rather her deny having any clue what he was talking about. This was… it hurt. So fucking bad. He titled his head slightly, working on questioning what she meant by that when instead his teeth shuttered against each other as the breeze had finally gotten the best of him.

“Can we go inside?” She continued in his inability to say anything else. “It’s cold out here.”

He led the way in after nodding in agreement, noticing for the first time that she wasn’t dressed as warmly as he was. He wondered if it had really been the breeze that gave him chills or the way she had completely brushed him off that froze him to the core.

He locked the door behind them while she waited in the foyer. Something had definitely changed between them and she didn’t like it. She didn’t quite know how to fix it yet, but she wished more than anything they could begin where they left off on Tuesday.

Once he turned to her, throwing his hood off in the process, she turned on her heel and went for the stairs. She couldn’t do anything facing him the way she was. He watched her as she ascended the stairs, having hoped they could figure things out downstairs first but she clearly had other plans.

He huffed out a nervous breath, shut off the lights, set his security system, and followed her up to his bedroom.

She was standing at his window when he joined her and when he stopped in a spot a few feet from her, she glanced at him sideways just as nervously as he felt.

Because she was nervous. She hated confrontation, especially when they clearly weren’t on the same page about things. If there was one time when she needed to suck it up and tell him how she felt, it was now.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Harry, it’s not like we’re dating here. You do have to tell me if you want to be with someone, though.” It broke her heart to say that, to admit to herself that Harry only liked her in her head and not in real life. It broke her heart to even think about letting him go so he could be with whoever he wanted, but she knew it was only fair.

He was quiet, eyes intent on her even though she hadn’t braved even a second glance at him yet. It broke his heart that she really thought he wanted someone else, and he had no one to blame for her coming to that conclusion besides himself.

She sighed. “I’m not going to hold you back so we can keep doing this.”

He hid his face when she turned to look at him, trying to hold back the tears that were uncontrollably burning his eyes. He just nodded, sucking in a breath as he started to feel himself crumbling. He needed to get out of there, fast.

“Um, I think I left a light on downstairs.” He glanced at his bed then, but never once looked her in the eyes, too afraid his voice would crack if he did, “You can go ahead, I’ll be back in a minute.”

He left without even giving her a chance to say anything else that would shatter his heart more. Before he even made it out of his bedroom, he was wiping tears from his cheek and trying to hide it from her the best he could.

At least until he was downstairs, at his island counter, that’s when he let it all out. He leaned over on the marble, his forearms flat on the stone with his head buried in them as the sleeves of his hoodie soaked up his tears. His entire body shook like a nine-point magnitude earthquake had just rolled through his chest with little care for the essential organs that lived there.

He cried harder when he thought about the way he’d walked out of the room. He didn’t want her to see him break down like he was about to, but he’d left her believing his one night fuck up was anything more than just that. And even worse than that, she didn’t even really seem to care. She didn’t show him a stitch of emotion. He would have been fucking gutted, worse than he was now, if she’d been with someone else like that. 

It fucking hurt that the only thing she could say was that if he wanted something more from someone else he should be honest about it so they could stop. He thought about how she hadn’t texted him at all and he wondered if she’d already made up her mind about it before he messaged her. That thought, that she might’ve even considered stopping what they were doing, tore him up all over again.

He muffled his sobs by biting his sleeve, positive he hadn’t cried this hard since before he got to know her. It wouldn’t stop either. Even after his eyes dried up, the pain was still there, because all he could think about, still, was the way she didn't care. She wasn’t mad at him, she wasn’t fighting back her jealousy. There was just simply nothing, but at the same time, it told him everything. He’d only known she cared about him before because she trusted him and now… he had no clue if any of that trust still remained. And it was all his fault.

It took him a while to put himself back together, to be done crying long enough to wipe his eyes and come back to her. Even when he did, it was different. She was still awake, waiting for him when he returned, and she still cuddled up next to him and he still wrapped his arm around her like he always did, but it was different. There was an awful feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake. 

“I don’t want to be with someone.” He admitted, mostly to himself. Mostly to convince himself. The someone he wanted was her, but she was so far out of his reach. She didn’t like relationships, and he was the absolute jackass who fell for her anyways. “I was just drunk and did something stupid.”

“Okay.” 

“But, um… if you…” The tears almost returned and he gave himself a moment to stop feeling everything so much. “If you wanted to be with someone, you would tell me too, right?”

She sighed, melting into him just the right way he was used to. The way he missed and craved and longed for. “You know I don’t… but yes. I would.”

It went on like that for a few nights. She still came over, things slowly started to piece themselves together again, but it all still nagged at her nonetheless. There was still the issue of Harry writing songs about someone she couldn’t wrap her head around. The selfish bits of her thought maybe they were about her, but she knew better. Harry didn’t have to waste his time on her. There were people in his league that he could learn to trust the same way he had with her. There were people that would open up to him fully without being terrified. People that could give him everything he wanted. He didn’t need her and she didn’t deserve him, and she did nothing but remind herself of both every single night. Even when wrapped up in his arms.

Everything about her had changed again. Going to Harry’s and sleeping in his bed didn’t put a smile on her face quite the way it used to. Will noticed it more than anyone. The way she never came out of her room when she wasn’t at work or at Harry’s. The quiet sobs he heard through the thin walls on nights when she did stay home. 

Despite what Will might think, her sadness this time wasn’t because she felt utterly alone in the world anymore. It was because she finally found someone who didn’t make her feel so lonely, and she’d let her feelings for him and her feelings toward herself mess everything up.

It had hurt a lot less when she was empty and hopeless before Harry crashed right into her life.

So when Saturday finally came, and Will invited Harry over for dinner after a successful week in the studio, she really wished she could do anything else. Will was just trying to help, knowing Harry seemed to do the trick with getting Y/N into a better mood. Maybe she liked him a little bit more than everyone else, but either way Will had figured it was worth the try and Y/N knew that, so she didn’t argue too loud.

Around six in the evening, Y/N leaned against the counter while Will poured takeout onto plates, preparing for both his girlfriend and Harry to join them while James and Violet were gone for the weekend. The mere thought of having Harry over with considerably less people around had made her stomach twist into knots and her mind race all fucking day. 

“Glad to see you out of your room. Glad to see you at all, actually.” Will said.

“Well, you offered dinner so…” 

Will rolled his eyes, knowing better than trying to have a serious conversation with her. “I swear to god between you and Harry, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“What about Harry?” She asked, trying hard not to seem so obviously interested in Harry’s life while she organized fortune cookies into a single-file row.

“This entire week he’s been spewing out songs, crying about shit, spewing out more songs. He’s driving everyone nuts, but at least his album’s getting somewhere.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, stepping around the counter to help him start moving the platters of food to the table. While doing so, she thought about what Harry had to cry about that he wasn’t telling her. She’d been at his place almost every night the past week, the same days he was driving everyone nuts apparently, and he hadn’t said a word to her about it. 

Maybe something really had drastically changed between them… and she still didn’t know how to fix it.

She dove even deeper into her thoughts when Harry was sitting right in front of her thirty minutes later. She watched him pick at his food and avoid looking at her, a completely different way about them both than the last time they’d been in these exact spots together. When they had stolen glances at each other and she’d stared at his hands a lot. Now it hurt too much to even look at him for five seconds at a time.

It was mostly him that was off. He didn’t look at her the same way he used to, like when he thought she wasn’t looking but she knew damn well he was. She’d missed the way he did that, which was something so unlike her it wouldn’t make sense if it wasn’t Harry. She didn’t like people looking at her. 

As always, though, Harry was the only exception to every rule she’d ever set for herself.

But now he wasn’t doing all the things she loved. She didn’t catch his eyes one single fucking time while they ate dinner. 

“So, Will said the album’s going well?” Sasha asked Harry amid the very obvious but very unexplainable tension in the dining room.

Will nodded before Harry said a word, and then dug into the front pocket of his jeans to pull out his phone. “I told her I would show her part of Golden, if that’s okay with you. Because it’s my favorite since we wrote it and recorded it in like five hours on Tuesday.”

That’s when Harry finally looked at her. When she didn’t even notice his gaze because she was too busy staring at the screen of Will’s phone next to her while he opened his recordings app. He looked at her long enough that it would usually get her attention, and so when she didn’t even give him the satisfaction, he hoped playing the song might get him a glance or, if he was being greedy, a smile from her.

Harry cleared his throat, “Sure.”

When the audio started, Will eagerly pressed his top volume button so that everyone could hear it loud and clear. It was a rough start of what was probably going to be an amazing song, Y/N knew that at the very least. And then there was a voice, a voice so distinctly Harry’s it made her head spin hearing him sing. Because she forgot he did that. She’d never really heard him before, at least not like this. She’d heard him like a whisper through the walls, and listened to some of his professionally recorded music before. This, on the other hand, was a lot more raw. 

She listened as Will played two chopped bits of the song that pieced together really beautifully, although the lyrics she made out were the complete opposite of the upbeat melodies. 

The first one seemed like the chorus, “You’re so golden, I'm out of my head, and I know that you're scared, because hearts get broken.”

The next one Will played hurt a little more. “I don’t wanna be alone, when it ends, don’t wanna let you know.”

But she didn’t know what to think. She was quiet while they all got loud. While Sasha asked him to play the recordings again because she liked it so much. The music was light, like driving down the highway along the coastline with the top down. A summery type of song even though the lyrics were as cold as winter.

She thought back to her daydreams and as much as she would have liked to indulge in the idea, she knew for sure now that there was absolutely no way he’d written a song about her. Maybe the lyrics made sense to their situation, but there was absolutely no way she’d be hearing it in front of their friends when he wouldn’t even give her a single glimpse at his writing journal. When he wouldn’t even talk to her about work or about whatever had been going on this entire week. If he wouldn't even do any of that when it was just the two of them, there was no way he’d be letting her listen to a song about her right in front of Will.

“S’not finished yet, but…” Harry shrugged, glancing Y/N’s direction again just to be left utterly disappointed. She was avoiding all of them, twisting her fork around in a mound of noodles she had yet to touch and he didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t know why she’d just heard a song so very obviously about her and she looked… upset.

Because, to her, the song was further proof that he was keeping something from her. That he was in love with someone while she had been in his bed leeching off of him. And she suddenly realized that’s what had changed between them.

She felt like she was using him again. Her guilt about everything they were doing might not have fully gone away, but it returned stronger than ever. That she was holding him back, even if he’d been honest before. He could be out there fixing his loneliness instead of spending nights with her. And it made her head hurt to think about.

To think she had really been letting herself fall for him only to be slapped in the face with the harsh reality that she wasn’t good enough and hadn’t ever been. And if he did, by some miracle, like her the way she’d wanted him to, it was just because of the way they’d gone about things. That it could have been anyone in her place and the outcome would be the same.

Even if the song was about her… why couldn’t he tell her any of that in person? He’d always been open with her, even when she wasn’t at times. Why did it feel like ever since he got back from New York two weeks ago that Harry was suddenly a fucking stranger to her?

“I have a headache.” She mumbled as her excuse to leave, long after the topic had shifted from Harry’s music to the wellbeing of Sasha’s mom. Even though she felt bad about it, she couldn’t stay at the table a second longer, so she took her dirty dishes to the kitchen to clean out and no one said a word to her, except for Will, who reminded her to take some ibuprofen. But especially not Harry. He was radio silent as she went back to bed. 

As he finished up dinner and said his goodbyes to Will and Sasha, he left for the first time in a long time the same night. Left without waiting up for Will to go to his room. Left without knocking on her door, without joining her in bed. Crawling under her blanket. Breathing in her coconut shampoo for the millionth time.

He was leaving because it hurt too much to stay. It hurt ever since he came home and things weren’t the same. She didn’t need him or care about him anymore. It hurt when he looked in her eyes and he didn’t see himself reflected back in them. He saw nothing. And it hurt so fucking bad.

The studio was a little less cheery when all Harry could squeeze out was lovesick lyrics about Y/N. When he couldn’t finish songs on a rainy Tuesday morning because his heart hurt too much to even think about her.

It had been three whole nights without her, without even a text and it was making him crazy. He thought a little distance might do him some good, but it was having the opposite effect. She never texted him, and it killed him not to ask her to come over. It killed his sleep schedule as well.

“This random girl from New York has some kind of hold on you, huh?” Will asked when it was just the two of them, outside the little Los Angeles studio, buried in the brightest, green nature the western parts of the city had to offer. Will nodded over at Harry, silently pointing out the bags under his eyes and all the sadness that had poured out of his brain recently. The rain was a fitting backdrop behind Harry’s slouched shoulders and red eyes.

“It’s not…” Harry sighed, crossing his arms around himself while he stared out at the distant view of the Pacific. “I slept with her because of the one I’ve been writing about.”

“Oh.” Will seemed genuinely shocked. Mostly because… if it wasn’t her then he had no clue who had Harry so messed up. “So it’s a mystery girl you won’t tell me about?”

For the first time in… he had no clue how long, some semblance of a smile appeared on Harry’s face, even if it was exasperated and sarcastic. “No.”

“And it’s the same girl you said doesn't like you back?”

Harry nodded, not really willing to verbally admit to it right now. Back when he’d first told Will about her, he’d been hopeful that he was just misreading things. That she might actually have actually liked him. But now… All hope was lost. 

He knew Y/N was bad with emotions but a little bit of anger or jealousy would have been better than nothing at all. The rain really was quite fitting.

“Does she even know that you like her?”

Harry sighed, a bit agitated because he knew Will was about to go on one of his advice rampages and he didn’t have the energy for it. “Not exactly. I feel like I’ve made it obvious though.”

“You’re really dumb, you know that?” Will stood after leaning against the outside wall of the studio and stepped closer to Harry near the edge of the roofed patio as he gave Will a very offended look over his shoulder. “You can’t just assume girls know things, especially if you’ve never actually said those three words. They can’t read minds.”

“Yeah but… what if I say them and it makes things worse?”

Will shook his head in disappointment, “People tend to regret the things they didn’t do or didn’t say more than the things they actually did, H.”

Harry was almost one hundred percent sure that if Will knew who he was giving Harry advice about, it would not at all be the same conversation. He wouldn’t be telling Harry to confess his undying love for Y/N. Will knew her better than Harry did. Hell, Will might tell him to get out while he can because clearly Y/N was going to do nothing but break his fucking heart.

And like magic, he heard her name coming out of Will like it had transferred from Harry’s brain to his friend’s mouth. He didn’t quite like the details that went along with her name, however. 

“Why don’t we have a party at your place again? Like old times.” Harry scrunched his nose at the idea and Will huffed, leaning up against the wood railing next to Harry like he was defeated, “I gotta do something to get Y/N out of her room, man.” Then his voice got softer, “I thought she was doing better, but I can’t listen to her cry anymore.” 

Harry’s entire body tensed up. Tears welled in his eyes without his permission. He knew she was crying because of him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. Maybe not for the same reasons he’d been crying recently, and even though imagining her alone in her room like that made the last bits of his heart finally break off, he was relieved to know she did feel something. That it hurt her too to be away from him. 

“Besides,” Will turned to face Harry again, “Perfect opportunity to invite this girl so you can work your shit out.”

Harry hung his head in his hands, biting his tongue. Once he had the urge to just come out with the whole truth under control, Harry looked at him again. “Fine, but you’re in charge of snacks.

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