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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

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Wedding Shenanigans

A/N : Not me using my cousin's wedding as a plot for my fic. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while really didn’t have the nerve to post it. I’m still nervous tbh. Please don’t hate me if it’s bad my over dramatic ass just went a little overboard.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Indian! Reader

Summary : you are back home for your best friend’s wedding and Tom decides to accompany you.

Warnings : just over dramatic crap, sexual innuendos

Mini Playlist : Aa toh sahi, First kiss

(Note- As our country has a vast diversity of languages the italicized dialogues represents whatever native language you speak. I didn’t want to emphasize on a particular language.)

"You sure you wanna tag along?" you try to confirm with him again.

"Yeah I have never attended an Indian wedding before. Moreover I should have an experience you know for future just like Nick Jonas and Priyanka Chopra our grand wedding" he chirped.

"We will be staying at my parent’s house so no room sharing with me"

"What? Not again! But why can't I share a room? I mean your parents do know that we live together"

"Yeah but that's India honey, no sleeping together before marriage"

"I have to sleep all alone at night without you that's not fair" He whined.

"You can share a room with my dad then" you suggested.

"What? No not your dad" he gave a mortified look.

"Why what’s wrong?'' you let out an airy laugh.

"I’m really scared of him" you chuckled at his confession

"What? Don’t laugh at me, he really intimidates me"

"Well he is the only person who will decide to give my hand to you or not, so man up baby"

"And it's just for one night then we will go to the resort where the wedding will take place. And there hopefully we can share a room or you can share a room with Rahul or the other guys. I'll talk to them about it.

"Not that chump!" he immediately protested.

"What is with you and him?" you chuckle.

"When the person is a potential candidate to steal your girl you have to be a little defensive"

"God how many times do I need to tell you that we never had anything between us, he’s just my childhood friend."

"You may not have but I have noticed the last time we went to visit your parents he is always trying to woo you and moreover you parents like him too" he grumbled.

"Aww someone is jealous"

"I’m spiderman. Why would I be jealous? He says defensively, you smirk.

"Ok spiderman pack your things quickly"

You flew back to India the next day, you stayed the night at your parents house before leaving for the resort to attend your best friend’s wedding.

''Y/N!!" Your best friend squealed in excitement as she eagerly hugged you.

"Missed you so much.

"Me too babe. Can’t believe you’re getting married. When did we grow so big?" you pout.

"Hey Y/N"

"Hi Rahul. Missed you so much bro" you hugged him.

"Hey darling let's go to our room shall we? You must be tired" Tom eavesdropped in your conversation.

''Yeah I'm a little"

"Hey man how are you?" Rahul asked.

"I’m good, mate. Will talk to you later."

"Yeah sure, go take some rest" Tom literally dragged you away from him.

"What was that?" you frowned.

"Nothing" He said. You chuckled, shaking your head at your boyfriend’s possessive attitude.

After settling down in your room you went to freshen up. You stepped out of the bathroom drying your with a towel as you informed Tom.

"Okay so tomorrow is haldi"

"What’s that?"

"Well it's a ritual where we apply turmeric paste to both bride and groom, it is said turmeric improves your skin tone. I know it sounds stupid but age old custom so can’t be changed" you continued.

"So don’t wear something expensive as the turmeric stain will be hard to remove. You will be with the guys I have told Rahul everything so you will not have any problem'' he rolls his eyes.

"And please don't end up killing him''

The next morning after the puja was completed your best friend was made to sit on a seat decorated with flowers. As all the married women applied turmeric to her blessing her for a happy married life. Then came all of your turn. And you guys didn't leave a spot, painting her completely yellow.

"Y/N come here let me apply some turmeric so that next will be your turn" a woman offered.

"No thanks I'm fine" you dodged her somehow.

You went back to your room to change, Tom returned as well.

"You guys played quite a holi I see" you comment seeing his face and kurta painted yellow.

"Yeah but why didn’t you put that?

"I'll only apply only when it has been touched by my husband on my wedding day"

"Well I can help you with that" he backed you up against the wall caging you and slowly leaned down. You felt butterflies in your stomach as his face inched closer to yours, you thought he was going for a kiss as you parted your lips instead he tilted to the side brushing his cheek to yours and he did the same thing with your other cheek.

"There you go" he maneuvered you to face the mirror and you saw turmeric paste on your cheeks.

"Tom! Seriously? I thought-" you huff

"What did you think darling?" He whispers with a sultry voice.

"Nothing!"

"Someone is horny" He chuckles.

"Shut up you dickhead!" you snapped.

"But weren't you thinking about my dick in the first place?" He teases to annoy you even more.

"Ugh!! you know what Rahul is much better than you!" saying so you ran inside the bathroom shutting the door.

"What? What did you say?" he heard your giggles from inside.

Later in the day you were in the community hall of the resort with your friends discussing your dance performances.

"Guys we can’t let the groom’s side win do you get that?" you state.

"Chill Y/N we are gonna set the stage on fire"

"So what songs are we gonna perform? And please no bole chudiyan" you quip.

"Dilli wali girlfriend?" one of them suggested.

"Yeah that will definitely be kept for the end other than that?"

"Cutipie?"

"Nah"

"Deedar de? Odhani? Sawan mein lag gayi aag?" Everyone suggested in a chorus, someone even suggested ooh la la.” you facepalmed at the chaos.

"Guys are you planning to seduce those pot bellied bald uncles and middle aged judgemental aunties over there?" everyone went silent as you continued

"No right? So please something sober and fun. These songs can be played in the after party when the main event is over"

"Morni banke?" someone suggested.

"See now you’re getting it" After a lot of discussion finally you all agreed on some songs and started to choreograph the dance steps. Your eyes went to your boyfriend whom you had completely forgotten in the middle of this.

"You’re getting bored right? I’m so sorry babe this why I said you should pass this one out"

"Hey no I’m fine plus I kind of figured out a little of your conversation, you are talking of some kind of dance competition"

"Wow you are improving I’m so proud of you. And yes you’re right tomorrow we have sangeet at night and it’s a dance off bride vs groom and we are gonna smash them"

"Oh you will, darling. How much of an aggressive competitor you’re no one knows better than me" He chuckles.

"Hey! I’m not aggressive" you protest.

"Do I need to remind you of the one time you were literally about to throw the controller at the tv screen after you lost a match of fortnite?"

"Okay in my defense you cheated" you narrowed your eyes.

"No I didn't," He says haughtily.

"Yes you did, you distracted me-" you argue back.

"What did I do baby?" His voice was low as you remembered about the distraction he caused.

"Uh never mind" you stutter all flustered.

"Hey Y/N c’mon let’s practise" Rahul called you.

"What’s he gonna do?" Tom frowned.

"He’s my dance partner, I would have asked you but you don’t understand the lyrics well so"

"Yeah yeah I get it, now go" He said rolling his eyes.

You began to practice the dance for the sangeet it went on for sometime. But later everyone got bored to dancing to the same song so random songs were played

Sun baby deadly hai teri walk ni

Tere thumke bhi karte hai talk ni

Ho dil kare dekhi jaun teri ore

Tu nazre mila toh sahi

Dil diya hai jaan bhi tujhe denge

Tu ik vaari aa toh sahi

Dil diya hai jaan bhi tujhe denge

Tu nazre mila toh sahi

Tu ik vari aa to sahi

You started to move your hips sensually as Rahul joined you too. His hands went to wrap around your waist which made Tom uncomfortable as his face tensed up. You were laughing and giggling unaware of Tom watching you with a pointed look as you both were getting too close to his liking. You looked over your shoulder to find a very displeased Tom. An idea crossed your mind as you waltzed your way to him.

Kab mummy daddy mere tu patayega

Leke band baja ghar mere aayegaKab tak mujhe aise hi ghumayega

Tu baat badha to sahi

Dil diya hai jaan bhi tujhe denge

Tu ik vaari aa toh sahi

Dil diya hai jaan bhi tujhe denge

Tu nazre mila toh sahi

Tu ik vari aa to sahi

Grabbing his hand you pulled him to the center your friends hooted and whistled. You began to dance around him and nudge his shoulder playfully before lacing your hands around his neck pulling him closer to you. You turn around your back pressed against his broad chest as you take his hands and place them around your waist and continue to sway against each other.

............

Next day your best friend was sitting in the courtyard surrounded by all the ladies. The mehendi artist drew beautiful and intricate patterns on her hand with the henna.

You and your girl gang got ready to perform for the occasion as the song ‘mehndi hai rachne wali’ started to play in the background. You all danced to the song gracefully. After the performance you all also got your mehendi done.

"Tom! Tom! Where is my food?!" You yell sitting on your bed with wet henna on your hands.

"Wait a minute my hungry devil" Tom comes with your plate of food.

"Seriously you just can’t wait for a few minutes" He huffs sitting next to you.

"I’m so lucky to have such a sweet and caring boyfriend" you gush.

"Yeah yeah, now open your mouth" You do as he says. He brings the spoon near your mouth to pull it away immediately and eat the food himself.

"Tom!" You protest, he stifles a laugh. This is a nice punishment for you now cannot work your hands.

"Yeah very funny, don’t talk to me" You turn your face away from him annoyed.

"Hey I’m sorry, here take" He holds the spoon in front of you as you open your mouth to eat but that little fucker does it again going into a fit of laughter.

"You!!" You lift your hands to hit him.

"Ah, ah love don’t think of it or your artwork will only get ruined" He chuckles as you huff in defeat.

"Okay now c’mon, this time no pranks I promise" You frowned at him still dubious but this time he finally fed you.

"You know they write the name or initial of your husband in this. I made the lady write your initial, think you can find it?" you looked at him with a playful expression.

"Is that a challenge, love?"

"Well maybe" you shrug.

"Then I fucking accept it!" He gets on to search through the intricate patterns drawn on your hand but soon he realized it was hard than he thought as he frowned.

"Don’t worry baby you have the whole day, you’ll find it eventually I suppose" You snicker.

Later in the evening the sangeet ceremony took place and as expected you guys won the dance off. After all the elders and children were done having their dinner and retreated to their rooms, the younger lot of you as decided earlier had your own kind of mini bachelor’s party with everyone ending up drunk. The boys were dancing on to some peppy bollywood item number, later you and your girlfriends took the stage as the music continued to play.

Ae Yo, Ae Yo

Seene Se Laga Ke Baahon Mein

Mujhe Le Lo

Jaldi Hai Kaisi

I Like It Nice And Slow

Your body swayed sensually as the guys hollered and cheered you girls with a few whistles.

Meri Heart Beat Fast

Aur Sab Lage Mujhe Slo-mo

Mujhe Slow-mo

I Want You Right Now

I Need You Right Now Come

You stretched your hand pointing your finger directly to your boyfriend motioning him to get up and come to you. He obliged with a smirk plastered on his face and strided towards you.

Hassa Hassa Ke Gaya Fasa

Tu Toh Dil Mera

Nasha Nasha Tera Chadha Nasha

Jab Dekha Chehra Tera

Meri Life Mein Yun Kar Gaya Kyun

Har Din Love Wala Season Tu

What You Gonna Do?

Jo Main Keh Du

Meri Heart Beat Ka Reason Tu

His hands rested on your hips as he knelt down to ear and whispered

"You really do like it nice and slow don’t you love?" you elbowed him playfully.

‘‘Fuck off!!’’

‘‘Ow!’’ He groaned chuckling.

…….

It was your bestie's big day as you were getting ready for it putting on your saree.

"Tom can you help me with the pleats of my saree please"

"Sure darling" He squats down to gather the silky material of your saree, you smoothen the pleats as he holds them in place.

"Thanks hun" You tuck in the pleats inside your underskirt securing them with a pin.

"Anytime sweetheart" He stands up on his feet smiling.

You went on to do your makeup and were busy putting on your jhumkas when Tom’s eyes went to your reflection in the mirror. And boy he was mesmerised, you looked unearthly. He slowly walked to you resting his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist, the sweet scent of the jasmine flowers pinned to your hair intoxicating his senses.

"You look so gorgeous, darling."

"Well thank you, love. You look no less handsome either" And it was so true he actually looked like a snack in that designer kurta. You turned to face him gazing into his soft brown eyes. There was a certain kind of flicker in his eyes which you knew all too well though you were tempted to give in but attending your best friend’s wedding was also important so you brought your hands in front of his face and shook your bangles the jingling sound broke him out of his trance as he shook his head, blinking his eyes owlishly.

"Now who’s horny huh?" You teased.

"Shut up!" His face turned red all flustered.

"Aww it’s ok baby boy" You tease him even more.

"You’re so in for it later, Y/N" He warns playfully.

"Will see" You winked mischievously "Now c’mon let’s go" you walked out hand in hand towards the dias where the wedding nuptials were to be performed but had to stop on your tracks when you saw a group of aunties coming your way.

"Oh no! Aunties incoming just smile and greet them" You direct Tom warily.

"Do I need to touch their feet?" He asks nervously as you frown.

"No! That’s too much respect they deserve"

"Y/N how are you?" One of them asked. "You’ve grown so big! You remember me right?" Another lady badgered you with more questions.

"I’m fine, how are you all?" You gave a broad smile as you yourself were confused who the hell they are.

"Everything is going fine for us. So happy Y/F/N is finally going to happily settle in her life, so when is your turn huh?" You gave a tight lipped smile having no clue what to answer.

"You know my sister’s son is in the government sector, a really nice boy and earns a very handsome salary you know if you want-" you cut her off immediately.

"Umm aunty, meet my boyfriend Tom"

"Hello'' Tom greets them timidly.

"Oh hello-’’ she looked at him with a judgy face okay you kids enjoy then, let me see if anything is needed there or not"

"Yeah sure"

"What was she saying?" Tom asked curiously.

"Nothing just trying to set me up with one of her relative’s weird nerdy son"

"What the-!!"

"Relax she got her answer which is a clear no. Now let’s go and see the wedding" You went near the dais and observed all the rituals take place one by one. It was the time for walking around the fire for seven times as your best friend and her husband stood up and started revolving around the fire while you showered flowers on them along with everyone.

"Why are they circling around the fire?"

"It’s quite similar to exchanging vows you see, the bride and groom promise each other to be together for seven lifetimes with the sacred fire as witness" you explained, Tom nods his head in understanding when something went through his mind.

"Y/N let’s get married" Tom says out of nowhere taking you by surprise.

"What?" You chuckle lightly.

"I'm serious Y/N, let's just get married like right now. I mean everything is set, you are dressed no less than a bride and I’m looking handsome as hell and we have a priest right there"

"Ok Tom, I totally get what you’re saying. But honey, I don’t see a ring" you showed him your empty ring finger scrunching your face.

..............................................................................

Tagging some desi peeps I know here

@peaches-parker @parkerpeterparker2004 @lokibuckylove6 @calltothewild

@mischiefmanaged011 @parker--peter @starlight-starks

sorry if I bothered you.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland one shot #desi tumblr

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ragrottend0ll · 3 years

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School Crush (Vinira Fanfic)

(In december I posted this little idea and now I decided to started it, hope you enjoy and forgive the misspelling, english isn’t my first lenguage)

Chapter one:

‘‘I like girls’’. Emira started.

‘‘I like girls, too’’. Amity seconded after a few seconds of silence.

‘‘Ok...’‘. Alador responded a little shook. ‘‘I-- Wow, yeah, ok.’’

‘‘Is that all you are gonna say, dad? Really?’’. Asked Emira. She didn’t spend seven years in the closet for just to get an ok.

Alador shruged a little. ‘’Congratulations...?’’

‘‘Fine, that’s better’‘.

The Blight siblings and Alador were hanging out. This was something that have been happening some time ago. At first it started as a sisters’ night, just for Amity and Emira, but then Edric discovered this and was begging, crying and basically annoying his sisters for let him ‘’in’’.

He finally achived it.

So, every friday night, while their parents were in important meetings or fancy restaurants, the three would reunited in Emiras’s room and just talk. Sometimes they watched a series or practice some makeup. Even tried on clothes from either Edric or Emira. Sometimes they would sing a karaoke or just talk about their day, their friends, Luz, and throw bullshit of their parents.

They didn’t need to worry about the mansion’s staff. They all like them and have never said something bad of them to their parents. Plus, some have sewn up mouths so... Anyway.

What they did not expected was that, one night, their father would return early.

Alador was honestly tired. He have been awake for three days straight and needed some sleep. Even when his lovely wife, Odalia, told/demanded him to stay awake and attend another important meeting, he denied. Alador was sure that, if he stayed awake for another hour, his body will just collapse.

When he arrive to the mansion, the buttler (he never can remember his name, really) was there and took his coat. Alador didn’t wait more and went upstairs. The Bight manor was splendant, huge and, now that he was walking alone through the corridors full of old portraits in the middle of the night, he would consider it spooky.

The portraits gave him chills in his back. He felt like the eyes of his wife’s ancestors were following him in every step he took.

‘‘I wouldn’t be surprise’‘, Alador tought. ‘‘They may be haunted for real’’.

‘‘I should probably ask Odalia about it’’.

Alador walked to his bedroom’s door, and when he was about to open it he heard something.

It was a scream.

‘‘The kids’’. He tought.

Alador ran as fast as his tiredness allow him to the wast wing, where the children’s bedroom were. The screams kept going, ‘’Where is the staff?’’ Alador asked himself mentally. His kids could be diying and non of the guards he hired were even near.

The screams were coming from Emira’s room. But the shouting didn’t sounded like Emira.

He looked at Amity’s and Edric’s doors. They haven’t come out and their doors were closed. Alador was tempted to open the other two door, but decided not to. If his children were being kidnaped, he’ll deal with the kidnapper in Emira’s room first.

Alador took a deep breath and casted a spell, ready to attack if he needed to. He opened the door, fast and hard. What he saw let him speechless.

There was no kidnapper. There was no danger.

But, he really didn’t know what to think about the scene that was display infront of him.

Emira’s room was a disaster. There were snacks in the ground, Alador wonder if Odalia would be mad about it, he answered himself almost inmediatelly with a yes. The room was dark, except for the karaoke that, Alador supposed, one of the twins bought.

Edric was lying in the floor with a microphone in his left hand, while his right hand where finger-brushing his hair. Oh, and he was using Emira’s lastest grom dress and a twelve centimeters tall heels.

Amity was sitting in the little sofa that Em buy two years ago. Her face had some very excentric makeup, specially her eyes. A wildly combination of pink, glitter and black. With red-sparkled lip gloss. Her triangular earings were replaced with a pair of Emira’s expensive earings that were only used for important meeting or fancy parties. She was wearing her regular pajamas, with the slight difference that, over her pants, she was wearing a puffy skirt. And that her feet were covered with long cowboy boots.

Emira was sitting in her bed, face was covered in some kind of skin care treatment. A phosphorescent green skin care treatment. Even with that, she was the most normal looking of the three. All her makeup was in the bed, (probably the responsable of Amity’s face) and her hand was grabbing her scroll, that was recording Edric’s performance, before he opened the door, at least. The scroll was still recording, by the way. Em didn’t have time to stop it before his father abruptely came in the room.

The Blight siblings were looking at him like deers flashed by a light. Each of them praying in their heads that if they don’t move Alador wouldn’t be able to see them, like some of the animal in the isles.

‘‘You... uhm,... arrived early’‘. Edric stated the obvious, crearly nervous. But, can you blame him? Not everyday your dad found you wearing a dress and using heels . Actually that never really hapened to him.

The music of the karaoke was still playing. Alador connected the dots and figured out that his son was the responsable of the screams.

‘‘Yes, I did’‘ Alador responded. He never had been a man of words, but in this moment he didn’t know what would be the correct way to react.

Should he scold them for being up at one in the morning making a fuss? Or He should just close the door and pretend that none of it happened?

He was definitely going to ask the servants if this was something that happened often and why they had not reported those... meetings that their children did.

‘‘Mom’s here, too?’‘ Amity asked. Her face now was now also covered with a strong blush of embarasment, that reached even her neck.

‘‘No, she is still in the meetong with the Hogson’s’‘ Alador answered.

‘‘Do you want to talk this now, or would you preffer to wait until the sun comes out?’‘ Alador asked. He wan’t sure if this was the right thing to do, but the words came out of his mouth even before he could think about it. That was something that didn’t happened to him since high school.

The kids glare at eachother and said a ‘’now’’ at the same time. If they waited for the sun, Odalia was probably going to arrive and they didn’t wanted to have that conversation with their mother.

None conversation, actually.

‘‘Alright’‘ their father said ‘‘Clean your faces and put on presentable clothes’‘

And with that he leave the room.

‘‘That could have been worse, right?’’ Edric said. He finally stoped doing the pose with his hand trought his hair.

‘‘Yeah...’’ Emira answered him ‘‘Mom could have catch us’’

‘‘Titan forbid’’ Amity said.

Once they cleaned their faces and put on their pijamas, the three siblings made their way to Alador’s office, who has completely forgot how tired he was.

They were nervous, Edric, specially. And were honestly surprised when the scolding was more about how they broke the curfew than about all the mess they did.

And after that, things evolved rapidly. The kids felt better in Alador’s pressence than ever before. They trusted their father even more because he didn’t said a thing to Odalia, and even gave the order to the servants to keep those meetings as a secret.

Two months later, Alador found himself spending the family-bonding-time, as Edric renamed it, with his children. The bonding-time had to be moved to saturday’s night, because Alador had the obligation to go to the meeting on friday. But the kids weren’t mad at all.

‘‘Dad?’’, Edric called for him. It has been five minutes since Emira and Amity’s comming out and Alador haven’t said anything esle since the congratulations. ‘‘Girls, I think you shouldn't have done it at the same time; now you’ve killed him’’.

‘‘We didn’t!’’ Amity shouted inmediately.

‘‘No, I think we actually did it, Mittens’’ Emira seconded.

‘‘I’m fine’’ Alador said some time later. The twins were disscussing if they should call an ambulance or just leave their dad there. Emira was drafting in her mind all the possible ways to hide Alador’s corpse in the manor, too. You have to be careful, right?

Alador sit up straight in the couch were she was lying. Before his both daughters come out to him some minutes ago, they were all watching a movie. If Alador had to be honest, he wasn’t really paying attention. He was falling asleep. This week has been rough, but for no reasom he would cancel the saturdaynight bonding time™.

‘‘None of my kids are straight, huh?’’ Alador thought.

Ok, to be fair, Edric haven’t come out to him (yet), but Alador prectically confirm his son’s orientation when he founded him performing when he discovered that friday sisters’ night. No straight, cis, man would use a dress and heels. Not even walk on them in the propper way Edric managed to do.

‘‘So, uhm, are you... mad or...?’’ Amity began.

‘‘Oh, no. No!’’ Alador answered, with a little laught that lately the siblings were more used to hear ‘‘I’m actually kind of relive.’’

‘‘Relieve?’‘ Edric asked, genuinely curious.

‘‘Indeed. I don’t have to worry about any potencial boyfriend and the concecuences that would imply-’’

‘‘Shut!’’ Amity and Emira shouted at the same time. ‘‘The school already teach us that. No need to repeated.’’ Emira continued.

‘‘I was talking about a heartbroken, but yes, sexual education is very important too.’’ Alador said. And, tho he seemed serious, he was teasing his daughters.

‘‘So, you are ok with this?’’

‘‘Yes, Amity.’’

Actually, I’m kind of a pansexual, myself. Alador tought, but keep shut.

The movie was paused. Probably since some time ago but Alador didn’t notice. He glare at Emira’s wall clock. 12:05, it marked.

It was early, Odalia wouldn’t be back until three in the morning. Anyway he open his scroll to verify that his wife haven’t texted him or something.

There was nothing, as expected. Only Odalia’s last message where she told him that she was going to leave the party at 1:45 and was expecting been home around 3:00 a.m.

‘‘So,’‘ Alador started ‘‘any particular reason to tell me your orientation?’’

Yes, it was sweet, but Alador did knew his daughter a little and can almost tell that, at least Emira had something else to say.

‘‘No, no reason.’’ Amity answered. ‘‘Just to tell you with Em.’’

Alador look at his older daugher, waiting for her answer.

Yes, they were closer than bever before, but the sad truth was that even if his children did trusted in him, he didn’t think that they trusted him that much.

It was reasonable, not less hurting, but understandable.

‘‘Well... You see, er. Ok, so. I actually wanted to tell you because, uhm....’’

Alright, now this was new. Alador never in his life had heard Emira stutter.

All his children were raise to be the embodinment of perfection, as Odalia describe it. The three took classes of everything. From music to etiquette, and diction was not left behind.

Now, Alador was sincerely curious.

‘‘There’s this girl in the school, and well-’’

‘‘Emira has a big crush on her.’’ Edric interrupted.

‘‘But Emira can be around her without being a red mess.’‘

‘‘You are one to talk, huh, Mittens.’’ Emira asked. Her cheeks were already a little blushy.

Amity looked away and Emira continue: ‘’My point is, that, her dad is kinda, a little... short budget. And-’’

‘‘Emira, I love you, but if that girl is using you for your money-’’

‘‘No! She isn’t! Sh doesn’t even know that I liked her’’

‘‘Well that’s debatable’’ Edric said ‘‘It’s really obvious and Viney it’s not as oblivious as Luz, plus-’’

‘‘Who’s Luz?’‘ Alador asked.

‘‘It doesn’t matter right now’’ Emira stated. ‘‘The point is, dad, that she didn’t even tell me his dad was in a little hurry. I was walking towards her and she was talking to her friends about it and I just heard a little. When I told her I could give her some snails she declined and actually was pretty mad about it, until last week, when I apologized. But I really want to do something about it.’’ Em talked fast, but Alador, as the good listener he had always been, didn’t missed anything.

‘‘And how can I help?’’ Alador asked.

‘‘Well, you can make him get a job? Maybe here in the manor or somewhere else. Her dad is in the construction coven, I think he is like, the right hand of the leader.’’

Alador hummed. Contruction coven right hand? He was a right hand once, before he was level up to coven leader. And he knew very well the salary of the seconds on board. It was a great amount of snails.

‘‘And before you say something like ‘she’s scamming you’, I want you to know that her family is really big. She has like, twelve siblings, not including her.’’

Alador sigh.

‘‘She really is a good person, dad. And if I can help her, I will.’’

‘‘She’s one of the noblest people we’ve met. There’s no danger’’ Edric said in favor of Emira’s propose.

Alador looked to Amity, who haven’t said much, and asked her with his eyes for her opinion.

‘‘I don’t hang out with her a lot, but she’s indeed good.’’

‘‘Well, I guess I have no other option, do I?’’

‘‘Thank you, dad!’’ Emira shouted and jump to her dad’s lap to trap him in her arms in a tigh hug.

‘‘I don't promise anything, but I'm going to see what I can do.’‘ Alador responded and hug Emira back.

He looked at Edric and Amity and with a head movement he invited both of them to join the hug.

Edric took Amity’s hand and join to it.

Well, Alador thought, I guess I have some work to do now.

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hoeassproductions · 3 years

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Break A Leg: Chapter 11

Masterlist

***Author’s Note: Hey everyone, I am so sorry that you’ve waiting this long for this story to finish out. I happened to come on here after I haven’t been on Tumblr for almost two years. I honestly thought I had posted the last chapter but realized it’s been sitting in my drafts this whole time! How freaking lame!! Anyways, this got an updated edit and without further ado, the last chapter to Break A Leg! I hope you like it!***

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own, possess, or have any links to Chris Evans, nor do I profit off of this work. Any claims otherwise are grossly misleading. This work is not to be posted anywhere else without my explicit permission.

If you would like to be added to any future tag list, reply here or send me an ask. I’d be happy to add you! Happy reading!

Word Count: ~2,500

The Beginning

“Sooooo. . .you've been talking to your mom about me?”

Chris begins to turn crimson as he tries to explain away anything Lisa may have overshared.

“Oh god, what did she say? I only told her the good stuff, I promise. I will talk to her about being nosy. She’s a sweet woman. I love her to death and tell her everything.” he says with a shrug of his shoulder.

“I could tell that, yeah.” I say, not being able to hide the smile that beams from my face in listening to him talk about his mom.

“You have no idea.” He chuckles, and I can visibly see the tension leave his body as he realizes I'm not mad.

"Don't worry Evans, I think it's sweet and I don't mind. Just a little taken aback I guess. I don't know, she seemed really excited to meet me. I want to meet her too, don't get me wrong! It's just…" I take a small breathe as I meet Chris eyes as he waits for me to find the words. "… Is she that excited to meet all of your friends?"

"Well, I mean. C'mon Y/N, you're not just anybody! You're…you're you."

Before I can push him further on what he means, he presses on.

"Y/N, about in the hallway before Sandra came out…"

"Yeah… I think that maybe we should talk…" Now its my turn to be nervous as it's not clear where he's taking this.

In the middle of Chris beginning to speak, my phone goes off. We both laugh uncomfortably, the nerves of the new subject getting more frazzled at the second interruption since being alone. Saved by the bell again!

I pull my phone out of my back pocket and I see that it's ringing for a reminder with my date with Jessie. My face drops. How could I forget about… Shit!

When Chris sees the change in expression, he can tell there's a problem. "What's wrong?"

"It's um…it's a reminder. I have to go, I'm sorry." I get up and walk away back to my cabin with conviction in my step. To my surprise, Chris doesn't follow me, but the separation is good. I need time to think.

How the hell did I not remember I told Jessie we could go on a date tonight? It completely slipped my mind. If I never set my alarm, I would not have even batted an eye staying at the dock longer with Chris. Confusion continues running through my mind as I check the clock on my phone again as I reach my porch. Had it already gotten that late? We couldn't have been out there that long already could we? And I rush back here to go on a date?!

I can only think of one thing do at a time like this. With a little under an hour before Jessie shows, I dial Hannah's number. On the second ring, She picks up.

"Hey love, love!"

"Oh Hannah, thank god. I need to talk to you, and I don’t have too much time." I explain to her everything that's happened since I got here and the current predicament. She's listens patiently, and understands my dilemma.

"Hannah, what do I do? With Jessie, and all the old feelings… It's just so easy to fall back into it but Chris…he's something else entirely. I can't get him out of my head or heart. I see small glimmers here and there that maybe he fees the same but I don't know what he wants. It's a risk to lay it all out there not knowing. What do I do? Jessie will be here any minute and I'm so confused."

Hannah is quiet while she thinks everything over for a few moments.

"Y/N, your heart knows what you want. I know it's scary, but that's why you should go for it. Lean into the fear and trust that it would work out. Given everything you've told me, I would be hard pressed to think Chris doesn't have feelings for you. You know what you need to do. I know you gotta get ready or whatever, but I love you. Call me later if you need to talk, okay?"

"Ugh, okay. I hate it when you're right sometimes. I love you, too. We'll talk soon."

Thinking to myself as I get ready with 8pm quickly approaching, I'm finding butterflies beginning in my stomach. The nervousness of what's ahead sinking in more. Before long, I hear a knock on my door, and open it to see Jessie standing there with a bouquet of wildflowers. I welcome him in while I place them in a vase with some water.

"You look great Y/N! I have some fun stuff planned for tonight…" he trails off as he realizes something is off as I don't make eye contact with him or say anything. "Y/N, is everything ok?"

I take a deep breathe as I sit him down next to me.

'Jessie, look. Given our history, I think that it's very important that I be as open and honest with you as I can right now. All day, I've been completely distracted… and you weren't on my mind even once. I forgot about our date until my alarm went off to remind me to get ready. And then, once that happened I began to get butterflies and so nervous, but - " Before I could finish, Jessie speaks up.

“Listen, I know we've never gotten the timing right with this, but I can’t help but feel like fate has brought us together this time. Like….things have finally matched up and we can, I don’t know, give us a try? Before you say anything, can we agree to take some time this week to feel each other out. No expectations, just getting to know each other better again. It’s been awhile, and I know some things must have changed….I know they have for me.”

Giving thought to his words, my mind can’t help but wander to Chris.

Chris said it himself. TWICE. You guys are just friends. What if I go for it and he still feels that way? But Hannah was right, there is something there…something that feels beyond what I can even put into words. The almost kiss, the comfortability on the dock, him being so trusting and open with me? Why not lean in to it? And this, with Jessie? This is just…..safe. Hannah said I need to lean into the fear if that's what my heart wants…

Gathering my resolve, I think to myself for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell to say. Looking at Jessie, I can feel the right choice planting itself even further in my heart as my nerves continue to grow until the words reach my lips.

“You know what? Under normal circumstances, I would probably say yes to that but…I don't feel like I can right now. I did get butterflies before you came because I know what my heart wants. Falling back into this would be easy and low-maintenance…safe. But I don't want that, I want fireworks and passion. I want to feel electricity from a knowing stare across the room or my heart pounding from an almost kiss. I-I just…we don't have that chemistry anymore, Jessie. I have it with someone else, and I don't know what's going to happen but I know I have to at least try, or I'd never forgive myself. I'm sorry. You're a great guy and you deserve to find someone who feels this way about you, but that's not me anymore. It just wouldn't be fair to you if my heart isn't in it. I hope you understand.”

After some time of silence, the tension releases from my shoulders, and I can see him process my words.

"I guess that settles it then, Y/N. I appreciate your honesty, and to be honest, I could see the chemistry between you and Chris as soon as you guys arrived. I always told myself that if I ever saw you again, that I would try again but I understand now that I just got wrapped up in the past and I'm sorry for that."

At the mention of Chris, my eyes shoot up to meet Jessie's. "But I didn't say who it was..."

"You didn't have to. It's obvious and there's been a lot of talk since you guys got here. I shouldn't have even tried to get you back, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity for us to actually have a shot at what we kept failing at for years. Listen, he's a great guy, and if he's the one for you, I'm happy for you. Truly. You could do worse than him. Just be careful. His lifestyle and career… it's no joke."

We both fall silent for a moment at him verbalizing something I hadn't even considered yet, the fame that Chris has to bear. Where would that leave me if this goes any further?

Seeing the gears turning in my head, Jessie interrupts my thoughts thrown into overdrive. "Have you talked to him about your feelings yet?"

"No, I've been trying to deny them for many reasons…I don't know what he wants. He says we're friends, but I feel like there's more there. I know I want more, but it's scary to approach it without knowing."

"Only one way to find out kid. Follow your heart, and your gut. He'd be crazy not to go for it with you. You're a catch, Y/N."

I walk him to the door, and give him a hug on the porch.

"Thanks Jessie, and thank you for being so understanding"

Pulling away, I see that Chris has walked back, and is just getting to his porch. He waits until Jessie leaves to say anything.

"That's what all the rush was about? Him?" I can hear slight frustration in his voice as he says this to me while crossing the distance to his door. Is Chris…jealous?

"I-I, Yes it was, but I made it very clear to him that it wasn't going to work. My heart isn't in it…it's with someone else."

At hearing this, Chris comes to a halt, key at the ready.

"I had to be honest with him. I Couldn't…not when…" my words trail off as Chris' eyes meet mine and I can feel all of the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"Not when what, Y/N?" he says, walking towards me on his porch, and I can see uncertainty dance in his expression.

I feel my anxiety and fear build up inside of me. Tears begin to well in my eyes and I know what I need to say but getting the words to come out is proving difficult.

I take in a shaky breath to gather myself. Y/N, you can do this. Tell him you're worth it. That you both deserve to give this a real shot.

My pulse quickens as my breathing begins to saw in and out of me, but I hold my ground "Not when...my heart is with you. I want you."

I look at Chris and in a matter of seconds, I see confusion and frustration fade from his face to be replaced by the biggest smile I have seen of his to date.

In seeing the change in his demeanor at my admission, the tears begin to spill over, clouding my eyes to point of blurring my vision so when I begin to feel steps on my porch, I was a little startled.

I wipe my eyes and see Chris standing before me. He reaches for me and pulls me into his arms with no words, knowing that I need a minute to compose myself.

I take in a deep breath, his scent settling around me, and I feel myself starting to relax.

"Chris, I'm.....let me explain....I-"

"No Y/N, it's okay. I'm just happy you're less of a chicken shit than I am."

I feel his laughter vibrate our bodies as he lifts his head, and pulls back to see my confused expression.

"Wait-"

"I feel the same way, and clearly you're scared but Y/N, you're one of the most kind and caring people I have ever met. I would be crazy to NOT to be interested in you! Ever since I dumped my coffee all over you and you threw your panties at me, I knew I had to keep you around by any means necessary." I slap his chest as we recall the haphazard way we met a couple months ago.

"Hey, HEY…" he says, as he shields himself from any more of my attack and we continue to chuckle. "What I'm trying to say is that you're amazing and I have feelings for you too. I don't know when it happened but you burrowed your way into my heart and I…I love having you there "

Listening to this, I am overjoyed. I grab Chris and I pull him in close, resting our foreheads together.

"Oh Chris, that makes me so happy to hear. I was so scared that I would ruin this if I said something and you didn't feel the same way but I couldn't ignore it anymore. You're in my heart too, and there's so much we need to talk about and discuss… a lot to figure out but I want to face all of that with you."

"I know Y/N. I know being with me has it's own challenges that a normal relationship doesn’t have to endure but I will do everything in my power to protect you while giving you the world because you deserve it…WE deserve it. You feel that too, right?"

"Yes, I do. I really do. There's a lot a stake when you lead with your heart."

"There always is but you're worth it, what we will build together will be worth it." He holds me to his chest again as I begin to full out cry, the emotions of it all overtaking me. After a few moments, I can feel his tears beginning to mingle with mine, and the realization hits me that this is real. This is my life and he's not going anywhere.

After we both compose ourselves and have calmed down, I embolden myself and look up into his eyes. "I guess there's only one thing to worry about right now then…to finish this."

The question forming behind his eyes before it reaches his lips, "Finish what?"

"The beginning of us."

Recognition falls over Chris face as I pull him in so our lips to finally meet for the first time, and I can feel in my soul; this is the moment I realize he's the only one that could capture my heart.

As we share our first kiss, I feel the world settle around me. This feels right, here in each other's arms without a care in sight. There's no place I'd rather be and to think it all started with a chance encounter.

~The End~

A/N: Again, so sorry I’m an ass and have kept this ending in my drafts. If you see this and have followed this story this entire time, thank you sooo much! Appreciate all of your likes, reblogs, and words of encouragement to make my first full fic a great experience! Writing is hard and scary, but I really enjoy it and am excited to get back to it! I have some fresh ideas that may just make it on here, so stay tuned!

Tags: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @avenger-nerd-mom @mycapt-ohcapt-writes @mad-for-marvel @vanillabeanlattes @captain-ariel-barnes @emilyevanston @thewife101cevans @loricameback @plussizeappreciationfics @a-tale-of-two-comics @melodramaticfanatic @writingcreatingstorytelling @mywritingsblog @disney-fire-fox @harrinoodles @lookwhatyoumademequeue @janeyboo @aglarelen @purelyfictionallife @cevansgirl @mrs-captain-evans @randomcevans @nomadicpixel @elivanah-writes @katiew1973 @tchitchou26@mackevanstanfan80 @unicornpurplelife

#chris evans #chris evans fic #chris evans rpf #chris evans fanfic #break a leg #Break A Leg Fanfic #Chapter 11 #my writing

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duchessfics · 4 years

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Quarantine Headcanons for Billie x Reader x Audrey

This is for Anon: Can you do another Billie Audrey and reader story they are addicting and you’re such a great reader!! Can we see one where they are in quarantine and a lot of fluff?

I know this isn’t a fic, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Also I hope you all are still staying safe and healthy at this time. And maybe these headcanons will bring a little sunshine to your day! Thank you for all of the likes and feedback! 💖

(https://ahsdaily.co.vu/post/150514222930)

I alluded to this in my other fic at the beginning of quarantining for coronavirus, but Billie would for sure take this time to have sex with you and Audrey anywhere and in every position.

Of course there are the usual places like your bed, your shower, your bathtub, and your couch. But you end up christening the living room coffee table, the steps of your staircase, the top of your washing machine in between cycles, and even one time inside of your food pantry.

Because both Billie and Audrey are celebrities, they both take part in different Instagram lives on their own and with other people. Normally you stay out of the public eye because if they are invited to an event they only get a plus one. So they go together. But when you accidentally interrupt their shared live, people immediately are interested in you.

At first Audrey is a little annoyed at all of the attention you’re getting just for accidentally opening the door and Billie giving you a minimal introduction. But you suggest that maybe after people see you once they’ll get bored and move on. So in the next live they do, they introduce you and it helps…kind of.

Instead of people focusing on you, their audience focuses on all three of you being an item. So once a week, all three of you will sit down and do a short live. Sometimes you answer questions, sometimes you play a boardgame, or sometimes you just chat for a while. But people love it either way.

Speaking of social media, it’s early on during quarantine when you download tiktok. And while you were skeptical about the app before all of this, you do find yourself learning the dances and posting some of your own content.

Of course your girlfriends are featured in a few of your tiktoks, but they also just think it’s funny and cute to see you randomly doing the dances around the house and singing to yourself. However if they wake up to see you still scrolling through tiktok for what’s probably been hours into the middle of the night, they will sandwich you in between them and summon you to sleep by intensive cuddling.

Because of the virus, your usual staff that performs daily tasks can’t come over. So Audrey signs the three of you up for an online cooking course. In the beginning, you know most of the techniques, but you do end up refining your skill. And Billie and Audrey become much, much better cooks.

And because Audrey feels so passionate about cooking now, she decides to order plenty of seeds to plant a whole garden. And this garden is supposed to take up a large chunk of your yard. However, because all three of you have never done something like this before, you look up how to successfully plant a garden and manage to actually do it.

Once it’s completely planted, this garden is Audrey’s literal child. She will go out each morning to track each plant’s growth. Her Instagram essentially becomes one for her garden and one time when she saw a racoon trying to get some of the fruits (and vegetables) of her labor, Audrey literally ran out and chased them off before you or Billie could stop her.

Besides learning how to cook, both Billie and Audrey have to clean. You never thought you would see your girlfriends doing laundry or scrubbing toilets, but they do it. And in the process, you help them go through and declutter the entire house for the first time in many, many years. That helps to refresh the house and makes cleaning much easier.

After a couple weeks of doing these hands-on tasks Billie’s acrylics all eventually pop off. So you offer your “services” to give her a manicure and she gladly accepts. She even lets you pick out the colors. Of course Audrey joins in and incorporates special toners, serums, and facial treatments since her aesthetician is unavailable and she’s afraid of her wrinkles emerging (Which both you and Billie assure her are nonexistent, but still)

Even with all of these new tasks, after being at home for more than three months you are bored and want to change something up. Specifically you want to do something different with your hair. When you mention it, both of your girlfriends think you’re joking and say you wouldn’t even know how to pick out the right hair color let alone actually doing anything.

That angers you and only makes you more determined to prove them wrong. So you order some bleach and hair dye and secretly use them. However instead of surprising your girlfriends with a gorgeous new head of hair, you come to them with tears and completely ruined hair.

Both Billie and Audrey feel horrible seeing you so defeated, but there’s nothing they can really do except section your hair off and try to salvage what healthy hair remains, resulting in a very short haircut. Luckily the short hairstyle actually looks amazing on you! And Billie and Audrey love it as well.

Because the three of you have more time together than ever before, you’re able to be more involved with some of Billie and Audrey’s personal ventures. So when Audrey needs to practice reading her lines, you take on the other characters and read through the script with her.

Of course you speak in silly voices and make funny faces for different characters which makes Audrey giggle and reprimand you, but she does find it adorable and it helps her to remain in character better.

On Billie’s end, fortunately you are able to have access to an isolated tennis court. So you get to watch the medium play a sport that she is well-versed in. Plus seeing her in different cute tennis outfits all sweaty and wet…it just does things to you.

To try and make it fair, you and Audrey play as a team against Billie, but she still annihilates you both. While you and Audrey are exhausted and completely winded, Billie looks fully enlivened and even says this is “rusty” for her compared to when she regularly played.

Another thing you and Billie do while Audrey works virtually is check out a possible abandoned house for Billie to film at. In the beginning you are able to play it cool. However as she looks around and speaks with forces that are invisible to your eyes you begin to get the creeps.

You trust Billie, but after a couple hours of having lights flick on and off, unexplained footsteps, and cold drafts as she continues to speak to different spirits, you’re practically climbing up onto her, terrified.

Billie didn’t realize how intense the experience would be so when she sees you so scared she feels terrible. But you promise you’ll be ok. However when Audrey sees you even she notices how shaken up you are. So you share a nice, hot bath and Billie uses some cleansing techniques she has learned making you feel better. And she promises to be more aware of checking in on you next time.

A couple weeks before the date, they remember your birthday is coming up. Due to the coronavirus you can’t really do much. But they still ask what you would like to do out of the options available.

For you just being around your girlfriends is a gift in itself, but they insist. So you tell them that you would enjoy just spending a day out in nature after being cooped up for so long. Billie and Audrey take your small suggestion and go even further. On the morning of your birthday, they wake you up by serving you breakfast in bed. And it’s actually a good breakfast!

Then the three of you go to a park that is never very popular and hike a couple trails. And it just feels nice to have an outing. After hiking, you pick up take out from your favorite local restaurant and eat at home. And to finish the night off, the three of you have a campfire, make smores, and lay on a blanket to look up at the stars while cuddling and talking. Even though the day seems ordinary, this is one of the best birthdays you have had in years.

In terms of other holidays, you don’t really do too much. On Easter, Audrey convinces you and Billie to dress up and take some spring pictures in your yard. The theme was pastel colors and seeing Billie with her pearls in a blush pink dress as well as Audrey in a pistachio jumpsuit with a spontaneously made flower crown is adorable.

On the fourth of July, you grill up some food and the three of you spend the day by the pool. The day is even more special because Billie wears an American flag bikini you and Audrey bought for her with a cherry red color on her lips that matches her nails. Seeing her laid out like that has never made you or Audrey feel more patriotic in your lives. And she knows it too.

Now because Audrey is British, you and Billie enjoy teasing her about the defeat of England. She plays along, but really isn’t bothered. Especially because both of the loves of her life were born and raised in the United States.

For the first time all three of you are able to sit back and binge Netflix and Hulu as long as you want. And when you find out a couple of movies Audrey first appeared in are coming to these streaming services you ask about watching them.

At first she says no out of embarrassment, but after you promise to not make fun of her, she lets you watch them. In reality she is the hardest on herself about her “horrible” acting and how old she looks now. But you and Billie reassure her that she performed well and still looks absolutely beautiful.

This year Audrey received an invitation to attend the met gala and planned to take Billie as her plus one. Of course Audrey knows in the whole scheme of things, going to some gala is not something to make a big deal out of. But you and Billie know how honored Audrey felt and how disappointed she is. So you get her to put on the dress and give her a personal photoshoot. Of course it’s nowhere near professional, but the photos come out gorgeous and it does lift her spirits to see them.

When the information came out about masks being important to help flatten the curve and work to prevent the spread of coronavirus, before you can even look into it, Audrey has purchased color-coordinating masks for all three of you so you can match. But at the same time they are different enough to flatter each of your personal styles. And any time you have to go out, you all make sure to wear the coordinating ones.

Originally the three of you were going to travel to England to meet Audrey’s family for the first time this summer. Of course with the coronavirus you cancelled plans, however the three of your do take the time to FaceTime her family and meet them virtually. And they are all so nice. That’s when you see where Audrey gets her bubbly and friendly personality from.

You also take the time to FaceTime your own family and Billie’s family. For the first time you feel connected to a network of loved ones outside of the three of you and it’s really nice.

Finally, because the three of you are staying home, you take the opportunity to foster pets. You have always wanted to foster neonatal kittens and this is the perfect opportunity. Plus the idea of seeing your girlfriends holding and caring for the kittens makes your heart melt.

In the process the shelter contacts you about a dog to foster. At first, Audrey says no, but they assure you they’ll find a different foster home for them by the end of the weekend. So she begrudgingly allows it and—no kidding she falls in love with the dog.

The dog loves sniffing the kittens (but they are also lowkey terrified because they’re so small and fragile), going on long walks with Audrey, playing fetch or tug-of-war with you, and snuggling up with Billie at night. So you do end up fostering the dog and consider adoption.

However when you meet the applicant and see the dog light up at seeing the children of the family, you know they belong with these adopters who have kids for them to play with. So…even though it’s tough and Audrey sheds some tears, you all remember the good times you had with the dog and know the kittens will be there to snuggle and provide a little comfort when you get home.

Tagged: @marilynroselleprentiss, @saviorinsilk, @chokemepaulson, @versonstar, @find-me-a-constellation, @cordwliagoode, @psychobitchtess, @midnight-lestrange, @mysweetdelia, @venablesbitch, @peachesandlesbians, @nerdaroo, @cordeliafoxxe, @leskaksel, @lovelymspaulson, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @whatabluddymess, @natasha-danvers, @saucy-sapphic, @marvelfansince08love, @wilheminawinters, @dontsblameme, @mssallymckenna

Let me know if you would like to be tagged in later works!

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lone-star-ranger · 3 years

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How to Scam Your Way Into Marriage Bonus content + new chapter announcement

Ok, next chapter (Injury Recovery) is drafted; sitting at 1320 words. Now to get my wife to look at it tomorrow (Friday) and publish it either early morning CST or late evening CST depending on whether I can get it on Ao3 before my shift. Bonus content below the cut; my hurt/comfort draft that I felt was too repetitive to post as a standalone chapter. Rough draft; not edited; read at your own risk.

Tagging @thereviewguest; this was the chapter I was going to try work Hakoda in based on our discussion, and @ljf613; tagged because “Scam” is your gift fic.

CHAPTER 2 1/2 HURT AND COMFORT

Toph stormed away from the dining hall in a huff. She wasn’t sure why she and Zuko hadn’t been talking except to fight more and more. If they weren’t careful, rumors would begin to spread. Throwing open the door to the training arena, she began hurling rocks at the targets. The door eased open behind and she scowled before burying herself in a stone igloo.

Hakoda sighed as he saw the rocks rise into place. “Toph, I’m just here to talk if you want.”

At his words, a small hole bent open and Toph’s voice floated out, “Well, excuse me for my lack of decorum at the breakfast table.”

Hakoda shook his head, “I’m not upset at you. It sounds like you need someone to talk to or someone to listen to you and since my kids aren’t here yet, I’m willing to listen.”

“Yeah, right, old man.”

“How many times did we talk in the temple, Toph? You know I’m not interested in changing you. I just want to help.”

Toph snorted and Hakoda sighed, sitting down and drawing a blade. Reaching into a pocket, his fingers closed on nothingness. Checking all his pockets, he realized Malina must have taken his whetstone out when she set everything out for him this morning.

“I felt that.” Toph called out to him.

Hakoda blinked out of his thoughts, “Hmm? Excuse me.”

“The disappointment. It radiates through the stone and I can feel you judging me.”

“Ah, sorry. Right emotion, wrong target. I don’t have my whetstone to sharpen my blade while I wait.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

The hole widened a bit and a perfectly formed whetstone leaped out from the hut.

“Thank you, Toph.” Hakoda settled in and let the rasp, rasp, of the whetstone over steel settle his mind.

The sun moved slowly through the sky as Hakoda calmly sharpened his sword, his saxe knife, and his boot knife. As he finished the last blade, he walked over to the used weapons pile and picked up two swords to sharpen. Returning to his bench, he settled back down and began sharpening the sword dulled by use against an oaken pillar. After a few strokes of the whetstone, the hut crumbled and Toph stomped over to him.

“Fine, old man. You win.”

Hakoda nodded, “Would you like to sit?”

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

Admiral Jee opened the door cautiously. “You asked to see me, my lord?”

“Drop the ‘my lord’ nonsense and come with me.” Zuko opened a door in the wall that led to a passageway that plunged deep into the caldera and they walked to a platinum bunker held aloft by thick chains.

Jee lifted his eyebrow at the bunker. “I take it, whatever we’re discussing has to do with your fiancée?”

“Good guess.”

Stepping in and sealing the door, Zuko lit the air-warning candle and pulled out a thick packet of papers only to find Jee studying a painting of the Wani. Jee spoke without turning, “Would this have anything to do with the argument at breakfast, my… Zuko?”

Zuko scowled, “Yes and No. I need you to sign this.”

Jee lifted up the papers, “The Fire lord’s official MOST secret protection act? A specialized act even more restrictive than the Secrets protection act?”

“Yes, what I want to talk about is not to be repeated to anybody at all.”

Jee signed his name with a flourish. “Very well…Zuko, spit it out.”

Zuko froze as he debated how to start, but finally blurted out, “I’m in love with Toph.”

Jee nodded slowly, “Yessss… Isn’t that why you’re marrying her?”

“NO! The council invoked the bloodline security act and her father threatened to have her dragged back to the Earth Kingdom if she didn’t marry! This was supposed to give us cover for a few years until we figured something out, but now, RAAHHAGH!!!” The sconces flared as Zuko yelled before he threw himself into a chair and put his head down in his arms on the table. “I can’t do anything about it either.”

Jee furrowed his brow, “You can’t talk to her about it? If she’s a good friend…”

“The best”

“Your best friend, then, why don’t you talk to her?”

“It’s not honorable.”

Jee barked out a laugh, “Kid, I was stuck on a ship with you for three years and you’re still going on about honor?” Zuko looked up and scowled at him and he added, “my lord?”

“It’s not honorable because everything she depends on right now, friends, housing, work, leisure, everything she has here, I can snap my fingers and make it all disappear.”

“Pretty sure she’d snap you if you ever tried that.”

Zuko glanced up from the table, “Really? You lack that much faith in my combat prowess?”

Jee snorted, “No, I just have more faith in the ‘Melon Lord.’ How fast did she win the Caldera benders brawl?”

Zuko smiled at the memory, “3 minutes, 44 seconds against 49 benders, 10 of them Imperial Firebenders from my personal guard.”

“I rest my case.”

“Fair enough.”

“Anyway, since she’s such a threat… why don’t you talk to her? She’s your best friend and if you have a chance for this friendship to blossom into something more, shouldn’t you take it.”

Zuko shook his head, “I can’t do that to her.”

Jee shrugged, “Personally, I understand your concerns, but she’s an earthbender. I think she’d appreciate knowing the situation entirely so she can face it head-on.”

Zuko nodded, “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Pleasure as always, my-“ Jee broke off at Zuko’s exasperated look, “Zuko.”

#TOKO #toph x zuko #toph beifong #Zuko #zuko fanfic #hakoda #lt jee #rough draft #discarded draft

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edourado · 4 years

Text

Warning - Part II

So I had an anxiety attack last night. What fun.

And, since I was maybe twelve years old, writing is what actually calms me down, I finished this little piece that has been sitting on my drafts for AGES.

Please note that I wrote 99% of it before the latest Avengers movies. So if you pick up any discrepancies, ignore them. It’s already an AU, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

Thanks for all the messages I got, supporting that I posted this. Honestly, I haven’t written anything since mid 2019, and September was the start of the worst time of my life, so I was very, very insecure going back to it. Still am.

Let me know what you think. Tomorrow I think I’m gonna post a snippet of something else I was working on before all the mess, that I still feel excited about.

Love you all.

.:.

Son of a bitch.

Son of a motherfucking bitch, he can’t believe this guy’s luck.

Or, maybe, it has nothing to do with luck at all.

When he first met Frank Castle, Grotto knew he should be careful. Nothing about the guy said “friendly” or “willing to sway the rules”. They were both beat cops back then, but, honestly, Grotto was fooling no one. This decision of his to “go straight” was not gonna stick for long, no matter how many times his father threatened him or how many tears his mother shed. It was just in his blood.

And, right away, he knew Castle was not going to be one of his buddies. So best to keep a safe distance.

Unsurprisingly, Frank, the condecorated Marine, started, you know, going places. Soon enough, Grotto - Officer Grote, now - was still in uniform while Castle was Detective. A blink of an eye and, what do you know. Sergeant Castle.

No grudges there, it’s not like Grotto had big dreams for himself with the police while he was still in bed with the… Wrong kind of crowd, to put it mildly.

But he had always wondered about that one pesky thing.

He is better looking than Frank. Yes he is, 100%. He doesn’t have any visible scars and a nose that has been broken about a thousand times, and he doesn’t frown so much. His eyes are a nice shade of greenish grayish blue, he has a nice smile. He can do pretty well for himself with the ladies, there should be no contest between him and Frank Sour-Face Castle.

And yet.

He doesn’t get it. The guy is grumpy, the guy is broody, the guy is downright rude, but whenever he walks into a room, suddenly it’s all about him.

Sure, he does have a nice physique, but you can’t even tell it when he’s wearing a suit, which he does everyday. Still. There should not be as many women following his every move wherever he goes.

When he walks into the station, you can almost hear the collective sigh. From the hookers to the badges, everybody wants a piece of Castle, it seems.

Not that it really matters. Grotto has his own thing going on with Sally Burnett from Chelsea, and also maybe a little something else with Tatiana Henry, from Williamsburg. He met this amazing nurse in Harlem the other day, Claire something, and he definitely would like to have something with her, but she knows Castle, and Turk tells him she’s involved with Luke Cage, so he’s not holding his breath.

But then, just when he thinks he finally has the upper hand on the scowling bastard, he gets slapped on the face again.

Frank lost the bet. Fair and square, he lost it. The one thing they were able to really talk about was basketball, and Grotto got to gloat for a whole weekend plus a Monday when his team won and Castle’s lost, spectacularly, and Frank had to cover traffic for him for a whole night while Grotto went out with Tatiana.

He had been genuinely happy then. Not really because of the game, he didn’t really care that much about sports. Not even because he finally would get lucky with Tati. No. It was the thought of Castle sitting alone in the car, stopping stupid text-and-driving teenagers and chasing speeding assholes - or, better yet, too slow assholes - for an entire night. That made him almost tingle with petty excitement.

But then, the bastard had walked in the coffee shop the next morning with a funny look on his face. And before Grotto could even say anything to him, before he could ask about his miserable night while gloating about the mediocre sex he had had with Tati - hey, sometimes you get a little too excited, you know? - the prick was, shit you not, smiling at someone.

And yeah. Even Grotto could admit the guy was charming, with the kind of side smile that would look ridiculous on himself, but worked on Castle.

And then, like a fucking slap on the face, Grotto saw that the pretty - gorgeous, so out of his league it was ridiculous - blonde that also got her coffee there everyday was smiling, too. Directly at Castle.

God damn it.

How the fuck does he do it?

Grotto watched, flabbergasted- as his nana would say - as Frank walked confidently and almost leisurely towards the woman, the woman, the one woman nobody at the station ever had the balls to even try to chat up, because are you kidding?, and she was adjusting her hair and fuck this. Fuck this guy. What the fuck.

“Gotta give it to the man”, Mahoney said from his side, finishing up his coffee. “He’s got it.”

“What the fuck he got that I don’t got?” Grotto asked, and he can admit that he sounded like a boy with his pride hurt.

“Oh, my friend”, Mahoney laughed, and patted him on the shoulder while Grotto watched as the prick and the pretty lady struck up in hush hush conversation, all secret smiles and flirty eyes. “A whole lot.”

.:.

Well, that’s some predictable heteronormative crap, if you ask her.

Not that they don’t look good together. They do, she admits it. Her angelic, ethereal good looks contrasts with his burly, hyper masculine vibe. It clashes but it also fits.

Ok. So maybe “predictable” wasn’t exactly the word, but still.

Ava has been working on this coffee shop for almost a year, now. Her mom’s friend and neighbor, Sarah Lieberman, was nice enough to recommend her to Arlene, and what was supposed to have been a temporary job, just to get her shit together after high school and through the first semester of college, was becoming more and more like a nice career prospect. She was manager now, thank you very much, and Arlene was even talking about another shop, maybe uptown, closer to her dorm.

But anyway. While the second location didn’t happen, Ava was managing this one, and learning about their patrons while doing it.

Karen Page came in everyday, twice a day. Once in the morning, for a tall light roast Java and a croissant, and again in the evening, for a caramel latte, sometimes with syrup and whip cream.

Frank Castle also came in everyday, but three times a day. In the morning - double espresso and a plain bagel -, during lunch - espresso and one single tiny donut hole - and in the evening, just before they closed, for an americano. Sometimes he brought his kids, who got hot chocolates and everything bagels (for the girl, his oldest) and grilled cheeses (for the boy, his youngest).

She saw him looking at Karen sometimes, while she texted on her phone. She saw Karen looking at him while he talked on the phone or read the paper.

And Ava sighed, her bisexual ass torn between fantasies of both of them, taking turns in her mind.

Not that either one of them would ever consider going out with her 19 year old self. They were both officially grown ups, and she still took her laundry home, drove her dad’s old car, was panicking about having to deal with taxes and was intimidated by going to the bank alone.

That didn’t stop her from flirting, though.

“Morning, Frank”, she would say from behind the cashier, just to hear him say “Good morning, sweetheart” back at her, that usually scowling face of his making her toes curl inside her boots when he looked at her.

“Hi, Karen”, she would smile, opening the display window to fish the best looking croissant she had saved for the blonde that could have just as well been spat out of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.

“Hey, gorgeous” was the reply she got every time, which was certain to give her butterflies.

That morning, though, Ava sighed, because, figures.

Karen had walked in and not walked straight to the line like she usually usually did, but lingered around the stools by the window. Five minutes later, she was about to ask Karen if she wanted her to prepare her order when Frank walked in and smiled at her.

Not ‘Ava’ her. ‘Karen’ her. He opened the door, ran a hand over his hair and looked around for about a second before meeting Karen’s eyes, and then he smiled. Charming and still so big and burly, and Ava looked, and Karen was smiling right back, sweet and timid but with a hint of boldness and oh my God. Come on, now.

They said something to each other, low and privately, and she saw the way Frank’s eyes roamed Karen’s face and hair, how his eyes glinted a little.

Honestly, buddy. Same.

They walked to the counter then, and Ava squared her shoulders.

“Hi, sweetie”, Karen greeted, and she smiled, because Jesus, how can you be this gorgeous and this nice? Looking like that, she ought to be a bitch, everyone would understand.

“Hi, Karen”, she said, pretending not to notice anything unusual while Frank stood there by her side. “The usual?”

“Yes, please. And Mr. Castle’s order is on me, today.”

Shit. They’re totally doing it.

Trying not to roll her eyes, she lifted her brows and punched in the order, stealing a quick glance at Frank, who winked at her, the beautiful bastard. With a grin, she moved to get the croissant, the bagel and prepare the drinks.

Honestly. She could totally see it, they already looked so good together.

Handing Karen’s croissant and Frank’s bagel to her and greeting the next customer, she hoped her own Frank or her own Karen hurried up and got there. She couldn’t wait to have this sort of sizzling chemistry with someone.

.:.

Lisa Castle zipped up her backpack, sighing.

She had payed zero attention to class today. Well, it was presentation day, and it had been Bobby Meyer and his group’s turn, so not much to miss there. It’s not like she hadn’t seen a potato lamp before.

“Hey”, Leo called while they exited the classroom. “Your project is next week, right?”

“Yeah”, she said, sounding gloomy even to herself.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s just…” they got to Leo’s locker and Lisa dropped her voice. “I think my dad is dating someone.”

Her friend and neighbor stopped right when the lock clicked open, and looked at her.

“He is?”

“I think so. Don’t know for sure.”

“Did you, like… See him with someone?”

“No, but… We spent last week at his place, right, Frankie and I. And this morning I saw a text on his phone. I didn’t mean to do it, it was just sitting on the counter after breakfast, and it pinged, I thought it was mine, and I saw the text.”

“What did it say?”

Leo closed her locker and they walked to Lisa’s.

“Something about a croissant and coffee. I didn’t get it. And then when he read it, his face got all… I don’t know, like silly? And he texted back right away, and he never does that. He drives my mom crazy, we usually have to call to reach him.”

“You don’t like that idea? Of him dating someone?”

Lisa sighed.

“The whole thing surprised me, but, to be honest, I think he should. It’s been over a year since the divorce, and he’s been working too hard, even mom says so. Maybe a girlfriend would help him relax. I’m not against that, I just… Wasn’t expecting it.”

“I can understand that.”

They walked towards the exit and Lisa mentioned that he was picking them up today. Maybe Leo and Zach would like a ride?

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’ll see for yourself, he’s all different.”

They sat on one of the benches by the front doors to wait, and she went on about her discovery.

“I saw the name when she texted. Karen Page.”

“Karen Page? Why does that sound familiar?”

“Right? I thought so, too. At first I thought maybe one of our neighbors, or someone’s mom from school, but I can’t figure it out.”

“Let’s Google her.”

In no time, they recognized the name. She was a reporter from The Bulletin, and they both liked her immediately.

The lady was, to put it mildly, a boss.

“Oh my God”, Leo said, scrolling through Karen’s Wikipedia page. “She interviewed the Black Widow once and now they’re friends.”

“Who’s that?”

“Only like, the best Avenger. Natasha something.”

“Oh, I know who she is! She kicks ass!”

By the time Frankie and Zach joined them, they were excited about her dad’s new maybe girlfriend. But they decided not to comment with the boys yet, because… you know. Boys. Ruin everything.

“Mr. Castle is coming to pick them up”, Leo said to her brother, putting her phone back in her pocket. “You wanna drive with him?”

The boy shrugged.

“Beats the bus.”

When he arrived, Lisa and Leo exchanged a look.

“Pay attention to him. He’s weird, you’ll see.”

“Hi dad”, Frankie greeted, opening the back door and getting in the car.

“Hey buddy.”

“Is it ok if Leo and Zach ride with us?” Lisa asked, opening the front passenger door.

“Sure it is”, he said, smiling at them. “Hop in.”

“Thanks, Mr. Castle” Leo said, getting in after Zach.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Seatbelts, seatbelts, everyone.”

The boys, being boys, were loud and spoke over each other during the drive, talking about that stupid game of theirs, and Lisa texted Leo on the back seat about how they could find out if he really was dating their new hero.

“Hold on, I’m gonna try something”, she wrote, and then turned to her left.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Could we maybe get some Starbucks?”

“Starbucks?”

“Yeah. They got the new seasonal drinks, I haven’t tried them, yet.”

It was a long shot. Everybody knows dad doesn't like their stuff, he usually gets his coffee from a place near his work, and is always saying how Starbucks has too much sugar in everything and it’s not authentic and these chain restaurants are not as good as the local stuff, the places ran by families, with tradition, real heart, blah blah blah.

So, everyone was surprised when he said,

“Sure.”

“What, really?” Frankie asked.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“OMG” she texted Leo. “If he orders a croissant”, she went on, after they exchanged surprised looks through the rearview mirror. “That confirms it. He doesn’t eat croissants.”

She thought they were going to the drive through, but he parked the car and they all walked into the Starbucks closest to their block.

Frankie and Zach ordered venti Java Chips, and Frank made them change it to talls. Leo ordered a strawberry and cream, and Lisa went for the pumpkin spice.

“Just do me a favor and don’t get used to this, ok?” He told them after they were done ordering. “Go see if there are any seats.”

She and Leo lingered by the counter while the boys walked to the couch in the corner.

“No coffee in any of those, please” he instructed the barista.

“Sure thing. And for you, sir, anything?”

“I’ll have an espresso.”

“Ok. Anything else?”

There was a beat, a moment that stretched while he considered it. The girls watched him with bated breath.

“Do you have croissants?”

Lisa and Leo looked at each other, and tried to hide their grins.

Busted.

“Yes, we have…” the barista leaned to check. “Butter, almond, chocolate and pistachio honey.”

They couldn’t contain the giggles while he thought about it for just a second before ordering.

“Yeah, one of each, please.”

“That’s a lot of croissants, dad”, Lisa said while he paid, trying to keep her tone casual.

“Maybe I’m hungry”, he replied, a hand smoothing her hair.

“You skipped lunch or something?”

He clicked his tongue at her and reached to pinch her cheek, which she evaded.

“Get some napkins.”

She let it slide, preferring not to comment that he never had pastries like these, especially not from Starbucks, that his story didn’t really make sense.

Maybe he wanted some privacy. Her dad had never lied to them, so if he wasn’t telling her the truth about the croissants, maybe it was because he wasn’t ready yet. Lisa can understand that.

And he seems happy. More than he had been this past year, so she can wait a little bit.

He stopped the car in front of the Lieberman’s place and waited until Leo and Zach were inside before driving a few yards forward, to their place.

She missed having him home, everyday. His new house was just a block away, but still. Not the same.

“Bye dad!” Frankie said, hopping off and walking towards the house - mom’s house.

“Bye, buddy. Math test tomorrow. Don’t play video games all night, ok? You have to study.”

“Yeah, ok!”

Lisa lingered a little longer.

“Thanks for the drinks, dad.”

“Sure, baby. Just don’t get used to it, ok? Too much-“

“-sugar is bad for me. I know.”

She smiled up at him, suddenly very happy to see him looking not so heavy. There was something lighter about him, now that she was paying attention.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yes, you will.”

“Ok. Bye, dad.”

“Bye, honey”, he said, leaning to place a kiss on her forehead. “Do your homework.”

“Ok.”

“And get started on your presentation.”

“Ok.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Ok.”

“And maybe don’t tell mom about the Starbucks thing.”

“Ok”, she said again, this time smiling conspiratorially.

He winked and honked when she waved at him from the living room window, driving away after she signaled she had locked the door.

Finishing the last of her pumpkin spice, she made her way to her room, to get on her computer and find out more about Karen Page.

Her presentation could wait.

.:.

His wife would say, when she was happy with him, that he was such a good reporter, he didn’t know how to not investigate stuff.

“This clinical eye of yours, Ben, you see through everyone.”

When she was mad at him, she would say that he was nosy, meddled too much.

“Maybe you should learn how to separate work from the rest of your life, Ben”, that tone that gave him the chills.

Either way, she was right. Not much got past him.

Not that these two were trying too hard to hide anything.

Frank Castle was a good kid. Ben and Doris visited his mother at the hospital when she had Frank, they had watched him grow up right next door to him, went to his birthday parties, saw him off when he joined the Marines and flew off to protect the country, helped with the welcome party when he came back for the first time.

Ben was there when Frank got married, he knew both his kids, was very good friends with his parents.

He and Doris were there for Louisa when Frank’s father passed away, helped her along the grief, the bureaucracy of his will, his life insurance.

Frank was like a son to him.

Still, it was a surprise when he showed up at work, on a Monday.

“Hey Mr. Urich”, he said from the door, knocking twice. Ben blinked at the sight of him.

“Frankie! Hi!”

The man - taller than him, now - walked in and Ben got up from his desk to shake his hand.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you, or…”

“No, no, come in. Can’t say I’m not surprised, though. Been here over twenty years, I think this is the first time you visit?”

Frank smiled, sitting on a chair in front of the desk.

“I came to ask a favor, actually.”

Ben sat back down on his own chair, and looked at him.

“I’ve been talking to my mom, and she mentioned a book she wanted to read, but can’t find anywhere. I got it for her.”

Frank showed him a bag from Barnes and Noble.

“Knowing Louisa”, Ben said, reaching for the bag. “I’d say she only looked for it at Target and Walmart.”

“That’s what I said to her. I hope you don’t mind, I’ve been busy with work, and the house, can’t really find the time to make it to Queens these days. And she doesn’t want to drive any further than five miles anymore, so it makes it kinda difficult.”

“I’ll deliver it to her, don’t worry.”

They talked a little longer, Ben asked about the kids, Frank asked about Doris, it was all very pleasant.

But he couldn’t fool Ben. He was a bit restless, a bit awkward, there was something going on.

“I met one of your reporters the other day”, he said, finally.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Karen Page?”

Ah. There it is.

Ben tried not to smile too knowingly. Half his staff had a crush on her. He just raised his brows in recognition and nodded.

“Karen’s my best asset.”

“That right?”

“Kid’s a natural. Almost too good. She’s sitting on my old chair, I predict she’ll sit on this one soon enough.”

Frank smiled, and Ben was surprised. The last time he saw him smile like that, he was still married to Maria.

“How did you meet?”

“I, uh… Almost gave her a ticket.”

Ben laughed.

“And we get coffee at the same place, just around the corner.”

“Son, that is almost too cute. A coffee shop romance?”

Frank looked at him, as if he had been caught, and Ben saw that fire cracker of a kid again.

“Romance, what are you-”

“Come on, kid. I’ve known you your whole life. Can’t lie to me.”

Sighing in defeat, but with a lopsided smile, Frank leaned back on his chair.

“I haven’t had anything serious since the divorce”, he mused.

“You think Karen could be something serious?”

Slowly, he nodded.

“What d’you think?” he asked Ben, and he thought about his anwer.

“I met her during a complicated time of her life. Came to know her well, I got her into writing.”

“She mentioned.”

“She’s a good one. She really is.”

Frank looked at him.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you’d be a fool to pass this up.”

He looked towards Ben’s window, apparently thinking.

But his mind was already made, it was more than obvious.

“She around?”

Pointing out the door, Ben took a sip from his coffee.

“Last office to the right.”

He shook Frank’s hand before he left.

“You don’t disappear. Come visit your mother. And Doris misses you.”

“Yes, sir. You send them both my love.”

Ben watched as Frank walked out of his office and made his way to Karen’s.

Shaking his head, he adjusted in his chair, going back to the article he was revising.

These kids.

Good for them.

.:.

He really did like her hair.

The first time they kissed, it was by the water, two days after she bought his coffee.

It was a cold night, she was all wrapped up in a scarf, he had a hoodie on, a beanie that made her want to pinch his cheeks - which was absurd. He was not a man whose cheeks one simply pinches. Her hands were cold, she had them buried inside her coat’s pockets while he told her about his kids - his son, the time he drew a Marine on the wall and told him it was to keep the scary guys away while Frank was deployed, and how that had been what made him decide to stay for good - and she was smiling, more than a little bit hypnotized by him, by this man that was a whole different kind of handsome.

Karen, as a fair skinned blue eyed blonde, usually dated… Well, pretty men. Men that were classically attractive, all right angles and no bad sides.

Frank, though. Frank was inexplicably beautiful. That rugged kind of handsome that she could not for the life of her explain why it worked so well, but it did. Everything about him was so attractive, his face, his broken nose, his jaw, his resting face that looked like he was ready to bite someone’s head off.

But God, he looked so good.

And he looked back at her, that face of his actually doing a pretty job in warming her up.

She doesn’t actually remember what they talked about after that, but she knows he made her smile, and she said something else that made him smile, and then he was closer, her nose was freezing, but she felt warm in her belly, and then he was kissing her, small at first, just a touch of his lips on hers, one that lingered, but then it was a bit bigger, he leaned a bit closer and she parted her lips slightly, which made him raise his hand and put it on the back of her neck, bringing her closer.

They stayed there for a few minutes, pressed together against the chilly wind, kissing without any sort of hurry or agenda, in spite of how cold it was.

“Wanna get a coffee or something?” he finally asked when the wind picked up, and she nodded, closing her eyes when he kissed her again, and that was the day she found out he really did like her hair.

Everytime they kissed after that, and the first time he spent the night at her place, and all the other times following that first one, he would spend a good while caressing her hair. Twirling a lock around his fingers, smoothing it on her head, pushing it out of her face, pressing his nose against it while they sat on the couch, you name it. Frank would always pay attention to her hair and Karen loved it, felt beautiful and cherished when he did it.

Missed it when he was not there.

It was a bit after seven when she decided to call him. She knew she shouldn’t, he was working, he would be there later, but she was all by herself, and it was ridiculous, but she missed him.

Her bag was packed and waiting on the couch, full of things she would need for the weekend, the very first weekend she would spent at his place, the very first time she would actually stay over. His kids were in Chicago with their mother for the long weekend, so she would not be meeting them just yet.

Which was good, she was nervous about meeting them.

What if they didn’t like her? What if she said all the wrong things? What if she embarrassed herself in front of this guy’s kids and messed it up so bad she couldn’t see him anymore?

Pushing those thoughts away from her mind, she pressed the call button, running a brush on her wet hair while it rang, fighting the silly smile when he answered.

“Hey”.

.:.

He does love her hair. More than a little bit, if he’s being completely honest.

It’s not even a thing for him, normally. Maybe because he never met someone who’s hair he found so alluring, that caught the light like that, or twisted at the ends like this, or that particular color he had never quite seen before.

Well, he had seen it, Karen was not the first blonde woman he ever met in his life.

But the way those particular strands looked on his pillowcases, and the gentle and subtle curl of it around his fingers, the baby hairs that kept out of the towel she wrapped around her head after the shower.

Honestly, Frank lived for the smell of it, any given time.

His favorite, though, might just be that contrast of it against his pillowcases.

She was asleep, but almost waking up. The sun was out already, and the birds outside were chirping like their lives depended on it. He felt her feet flexing under the covers, and, granted, they haven’t been sleeping together long, but Frank was starting to know a few of her patterns.

First were the feet, then the slight frown, and then she would stir, stretch and then open her eyes.

Karen frowned and Frank raised his hand. Slid his fingers over her ear and into that hair, the heel of his wrist by the corner of her mouth, her cheek warm on his palm.

As expected, she stretched, and Frank felt a hand touching his chest under the covers.

For three days, now, he had been watching her wake up, and he liked going through the whole process (a fascinating thing to watch, Karen Page). Today, though.

Today he put his fingers through her hair, and brought he face to his. She let out a small whimper of residual sleep, and turned her face into his palm, and that hair, that hair slipped and moved, fine fine fine strands of gold, and Frank moved to lie on top of her, nose on the crook of her neck, her arms around his own neck, hands grabbing her legs and adjusting them around his hips.

“Morning, officer”, she mumbled in his ear, so warm under him.

“Morning, miss Page”.

“So rude, waking me up like this.”

One breath, deep, the scent of her shampoo filling his lungs.

“You wanna go back to sleep?”

“Hmm”. And that hair, working like liquid rope around his fingers. “Maybe.”

“Ok”, he agreed, pressing one simple, lingering kiss on her lips before turning them, fitting her back to his chest. “Close your eyes, then.”

He did the same, feeling as she adjusted his hand against her chest, his nose buried once again in the long strands of blonde hair.

“The lengths we go to avoid a ticket”, she said suddenly, making him laugh, laughing herself, turning inside his arms to cuddle against him, the top of her head under his chin.

He should buy Grotto a coffee sometime. Preferably before he arrested his crooked ass, but the only reason he could bury his nose in Karen’s hair right now was because of the bet he lost, so the very least he could do was treat the stupidest corrupt police officer he had ever to a cup of coffee.

But he would think about that later. For now he would enjoy the warmth of the woman against him, and not even ponder about the rapidly growing feelings inside him.

Later.

#I'm back #am I back?#I think I might be back #kastle #Frank Castle #Karen Page #The Punisher #Daredevil #I have forgotten the tags that I'm supposed to put here #Hell's Kitchen's Chronicles

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subasekabang · 4 years

Text

One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed

Title: One Blank Concrete Wall, Primed Rating: T/PG-13 for swearing and bloodless violence Word Count: 13,700 Pairings/Characters: No ships/Genfic. Neku, Joshua, Hanekoma as main characters. Appearances by most everyone else from TWEWY including Beat, Rhyme, Shiki, the reapers Warnings: brief mentions of past trauma/death (some of the Reapers discuss why they died), angelic/eldritch body horror (no blood or gore), imprisonment Summary: Neku’s in college now, and other than passing through Shibuya’s subway station to get to other parts of the city, he doesn’t really stop by much anymore. But when he gets a serious case of artist’s block before a gallery show, he decided to go back to his old stomping grounds to get inspired. Partner: @soundofez and @songsummoner Author’s Note: This was a fun, super weird piece. I also did some art for it on top of my partner’s work; all the art from me and my partners will appear in the correct parts of the fic on my AO3 link, which will go up Oct. 2. I’ll link in reply to this post with it when that’s up so you can see some really weird stuff (my own art is included below, though!!). Special thanks to Fez for designing college-age Neku’s clothes.

Also, Neku fights (and apologizes to) a building.

Enjoy!

XXX

Neku sighed. Squinting, he rolled up the blinds on his studio apartment a little, taking in the view. One window, the Skytree. The other, he could glimpse the top part of Sensouji’s pagoda. Asakusa was no Shibuya, but it had lots of car free pathways, quirky art stalls, and lots of tourists to draw. And it was a heck of a lot cheaper than living in Ueno.

He could walk to campus in about half an hour on a good day or take the subway just one stop to Tokyo University of the Arts on a bad one. It was convenient and, while a touristy area, surprisingly quiet.

Too quiet today, though. Neku fired up his tablet, pinging his friends. They always called everyone in a big group chat, though there was no obligation to answer.

“Sup, Phones?” Beat grinned into the camera, a giggle heard in the background.

“Beat, are you ever going to actually use his name?”

“I am though!” Best objected. “Neku’s tag is a pair of headphones. It’s practically his name at this point.”

“You’re not going to win on a technicality,” Rhyme chirped, turning the camera so she was in frame. “We’re between takes, anyway. What’s up, Neku?”

“Shit, did I interrupt a shoot?” Neku hovered over the hang-up button.

“I just said we were on break!” Rhyme reiterated, flailing her hands in front of her. “But Beat is shooting with your deck!”

His friend, who had only grown more muscular with the past five years, hefted up his skateboard, showing off the art of a flying squirrel on the undercarriage. “It’s still the sickest one I’ve got. You’d better have another one in the wings when it gets decommissaried, yo!”

“Decommissioned.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever, Beat,” another voice popped in, the newcomer’s eyebrow quirked in a hint of static as the visual flickered on.

“Sup, Shiki!” Beat said, waving wildly.

“Meet me for drinks when you’re done shooting? I can hop on the subway. It’s only a stop.”

“How’d you know where we are?”

“Beat, you always skate in Ikebukuro,” Shiki said matter-of-factly. “And I’m at school, so I’m only a stop away from you.”

“Oh. Right. Sometimes I wish we kept our mind reading powers,” Beat said with a pout.

“Noooooo thank you,” Shiki said with a grin. “Anyway, what’s all this about? I’ve got ten minutes ‘til my Fashion Sales class.”

Neku scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepishly at the camera. “I… er. Kinda needed some advice. I’ve got a gallery class where my one assignment is supposed to take the whole semester and I’m a bit stuck. I need to hand my draft proposition in by the end of next week.”

“What’s the topic?” Rhyme asked.

“That’s the thing. The art—even the medium—is up to me. Every fine art track has to take this thing. So, it doesn’t need to be painting, but I have to secure a space and create a work to match it. Like, get permission to paint a building, or something like that. Private or public property, just no vandalism. Street paste or yarn bombing is OK in public spaces. Basically, as long as it’s non-destructive; otherwise we need permission from the owner.”

“So, you need to scout out a place and make something that compliments it?” Rhyme asked.

“Yeah. And we can work together if we want. I don’t know my classmates well enough to know if our styles clash though.”

“Sounds tough.”

“That’s why it’s my whole assignment.”

Beat frowned. “I’ve got a good sponsorship going with Wild Boar. Could see if you could tag one of their shops.”

“Maybe,” Neku said. “But I want to step out of my comfort zone a little if I can. It’s a good backup.”

Shiki bit her lip. “Maybe you just need a little inspiration.”

“Little is an understatement.”

“What about that tag mural in Shibuya? Would that be fair game?”

The chat went silent. That wall in question was public property. It was absolutely not game—not for this assignment at least.

“Why?” Neku almost whispered, hoarse. “Why’d you even bring it up?”

“Because it’s been five years, Neku, and you haven’t gone back. CAT did what you’ve been assigned; he was a street artist who also did all these kinds of hired art too.”

“Hanekoma’s gone,” Neku reminded her. “I stopped trying. The shop was destroyed. If he ever came back, he’s not in Shibuya.”

“Then… ignore my bad idea,” Shiki said, not meeting eyes with the camera. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“No! No,” Neku reassured her, forcefully, then quiet, as if he were a deflating balloon. “Sorry if I snapped.”

“You didn’t snap,” Rhyme offered, before changing the subject. “I’ll think on it though; there’s gotta be some struggling coffee shop that could use some art, or something. Anyway… we need to get back to work, now.”

“And I have class. Neku, let’s chat tonight, after dinner? I can swing by your place. We can go get conveyor belt sushi over by Nakamise.”

“That… sounds pretty good, actually. Yeah. Let’s.”

“Later, alligator!” Rhyme said, chipper.

“Yeah! Later!” Shiki added.

“Let’s bounce!” Beat snuck in as Rhyme ended the call.

Neku was left alone to his thoughts.

Shibuya.

He and his friends romped through the city almost every weekend after they were all brought back—at least at first. Eventually exams took over for Shiki and Neku, both hell-bent on getting in Bunka Fashion College and Tokyo Arts respectively. Beat slowly got more and more skate sponsorships with Rhyme as his videographer, making her new dream to shoot the world’s best skater: her brother.

Neku closed his eyes, imagining the gleaming, ad-drenched skyscrapers, a far cry from the view from his apartment window.

Maybe.

Maybe it was time to finally go back; maybe Shiki wasn’t wrong. It was his old stomping grounds, his old home. And it was only a few hundred yens’ ride away.

Neku pinched his forearm once to ground himself, grabbed his wallet and a scarf (courtesy of Shiki’s weaving class, in a sturdy textured purple crepe) and headed out the door.

Xxx

Neku’s palm touched plaster and concrete. Slowly, he slid his hand along the wall, breathing out an exhale. Even in his high school years, when his friends would regularly bum around Shibuya after school and on weekends, he avoided the mural. It wasn’t that he stopped liking it; just… He felt he didn’t need it anymore. He had plenty of CAT’s art to keep him company, from the pins in his pocket to the billboards throughout the city.

Maybe he was young and naïve back then, but looking at the faded piece, partially obscured by other, less impressive tags… well, it didn’t seem very impressive anymore.

“‘Course it isn’t, you brain-dead binomial,” a familiar voice sneered from behind him. Neku whipped around to see Sho Minamimoto, cat whiskers and all, grinning with fanged teeth.

Sho put up his hands as a peace offering, sensing Neku’s hackles rising. “I’m not attacking the living; don’t get your panties in a bunch. I’d really rather not get divided by zero. Again.”

Neku relaxed his shoulders a little but said nothing.

“You’re a leaky faucet, you single-digit integer,” Sho explained, as he pointed to a vending machine, sending a pair of CC Lemon bottles flying out of it and at the two of them. He leaned against the mural, back to it, sliding down to sit and sighing with his drink. “I miss CAT, too, you know. Been the square-root of 25 years since anyone’s seen a new piece of his. Some of the reapers actually thought it might’ve been you.”

Neku laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Me?” he asked, plopping down next to his former enemy, accepting the citrus-flavored peace offering. “I was fifteen. And CAT had been active way before I was born.”

“Thought it was a title, you dumb fractal. Like Pope or Emperor.”

“Expert street artists are called Kings and Queens, you know.”

“And dead ones are Angels,” Sho added with a sage nod. “Trying to one-up a Reaper on art is like trying to find the cube root of i.”

Neku stared down at his soft drink, thinking of Hanekoma. The title suited him in more ways than one, thanks to a little packet he’d found in Mr. H’s shop back when he and Beat snuck in to see if there was anything they could save. Since Hanekoma was CAT, there had been a pretty strong likelihood some of his art was still in the ruined café, but sadly there wasn’t any evidence in there at all. Neku saw faded marks where canvases and an easel had once been stacked in a curious empty back room; someone had beaten them to clearing it out.

Sho pulled Neku out of his thoughts eventually, after one intrepid skater ate pavement attempting to grind the Cyco Records railing.

“What’s eating you, pain-in-my-vector? Well, former.”

“You don’t hold a grudge?” Neku asked curiously.

“It’s a long afterlife. Grudges are useless.”

The two sat in silence for a while, watching the skaters try their new decks outside the Wild Boar at the midpoint of the T section.

“You gonna ask me why I’m here?”

“I know why you’re here,” Sho replied testily, tapping his temple. “Was waiting to see if you’d give me the proof out of your mouth.”

“Right. Mind reading.”

“I can’t see every piece of the equation; that’s not how it works and you know it. But I can solve for x and fill in the blanks.”

Neku sighed. “What can you see?”

“That you’re stuck on a hard problem and you’ve been staring at your homework too long.”

“And by problem you mean—”

“I can’t tell—just some big project is eating you up. At least it’s not Higashizawa. That hectopascal can eat a man whole. I’ve seen it.” Minamimoto slung back his drink. “So, what’s eating you?”

“I mean, other than you being alive again?” Neku asked, eyebrow raised.

“Still dead as I was last you saw me.”

“Last I saw you, you were crushed under a vending machine.”

“Eh, I’ve had worse days.” Minamimoto shrugged. “That infinite asshole of a Composer fixed me back up and sent me right back to work. Now stop stalling, you obtuse angle. Out with it.”

“Artist’s block,” Neku admitted sheepishly. “I’ve got a big project coming up and I just can’t think of the right thing to do.”

Sho laughed, his head flung back and whole body shaking with the action. “Artist’s block, you dithering digit. You don’t think we Reapers never deal with that shit? At least for you, it’s not fatal.”

“F-fatal?” Neku asked, almost dropping his bottle.

“We run on Imagination,” Sho said, chucking his emptied-out drink with force, sending it flying halfway down the alley into a recycling bin attached to a vending machine. “No Imagination, no power. No power long enough and poof, divide by zero. Crunch. Drop a vending machine on me? I’ll walk it off. Go too long without making something…”

Sho went uncharacteristically quiet, running his fingers through a hole in his jeans.

“So, what do you do when you’re stuck?” Neku finally asked.

“I raid the trash. Something always finds its way to me.” Sho pulled a loose thread and threw it to the wind. “I don’t just mean the garbage; I mean the rest of us. Talkin’ it out’s helped. I used to think I didn’t need anybody else. But then I got subtracted out so many times by you ‘n Prisspants, well. Don’t want to admit it but dividing up the work’s helped solve the harder equations.”

Neku smiled, offering a hand. “I can leave you my number if you ever want to talk shop.”

Sho blinked twice, confused. “You’d… help me? I was an irrational digit.”

“So? I was an asshole teenager. I pass through often enough. It’s not much trouble, especially if you’re feeding me,” Neku admitted, shaking his now empty bottle. “You try keeping on weight on a college art student’s budget.”

“Yeah, all right,” Sho said, standing up, swiping Neku’s empty bottle to shove in one of his myriad pockets. “A balanced equation—I dig it. I’m using this in my next piece,” he added, tapping the bottle with a hollow thud. “Thanks… Neku.”

Before Neku had a chance to even realize it was the first time Sho called him by name, the Reaper had vanished back to the Underground, out of Neku’s reach.

Xxx

Neku stood at the mural a few minutes longer, rolling the plastic bottle cap in his fingers. If Sho was alive, well, less dead, then Joshua was still haunting Shibuya from somewhere—Hanekoma, too.

So why was the mural so worn out? Had Mr. H run out of new inspiration himself? Neku sighed, no more ready to tackle the assignment as he hoofed it back to the station, tossing the bottle-cap into the recycling as he passed.

The CC Lemon Sho had expertly pitched was mysteriously absent from the top of the pile.

“If Sho went dumpster diving to make recycled friendship bracelets, I think I’ll actually bust a rib laughing,” Neku muttered to himself.

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Neku whipped his head around to see a Reaper in a basic hoodie. A faceless grunt, one of at least tens, if not hundreds, patrolling the city. No visible wings, so at least Neku could remind himself he hadn’t gone sliding into the UG. Just another Reaper coming up to the RG for air. Or to pester him.

Or both.

“Do I know you?” Neku asked, eyeing the teenage-looking apparition in oversized clothing.

The boy huffed. “The Reaper Review remembers you.”

Neku laughed and relaxed a little. “At least you’re not the Reaper who made me show up in all Mus Rattus to break their barrier. Or the other one who made me get them a chili dog.”

“When you’re a minor officer, you’re allowed to send Players on wild goose chases,” the Reaper said with a shrug. “I’m just happy I was allowed to block mine with trivia. I hate fighting.”

“You and me both,” Neku grumbled.

The reaper tipped his hood back slightly, enough to show Neku his ethereal looking eyes. “I overheard you had artist’s block. Er, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. It’s the worst.”

“Great. Is my mind safe from any of you?” Neku groaned, though it wasn’t in anger. He couldn’t complain. Hearing the livings’ thoughts just happened when you were dead.

“Actually, I was guarding the mural and overheard your chat with the Lieutenant.”

“Oof. Minamimoto got a demotion?”

“He seems happier in the field, anyway,” the Reaper replied with a shrug. “More time for his sculptures and harassing players.”

Neku looked at the Reaper curiously. “Sho mentioned you all do art. Have to keep your Imagination up.”

“That’s… not entirely true. I mean yeah, gotta keep the creative juices going or we stop existing. But it doesn’t have to be through art. Cooking, dance, whatever goes. When I’m stuck, I usually learn from another Reaper. Gives me some perspective.”

Neku’s smile widened. “You’re right, you know. I need to broaden my horizons. What do you do?”

“Me? Uh… I design puzzles. The player traps and stuff.”

“Ugh,” Neku groaned.

“You paint, right? I remember seeing some of your tags under the Miyashita Park underpass a few years ago. You’re pretty good. Maybe… try heading over near Shibu-Q? The Reapers that dance usually practice that way—sidewalk is wide enough. Loosen up with some life drawing or something.”

Neku smiled. “I have to do an installation project, but you know what? That’s not a terrible idea. Thanks.” He looked to the corner where Shibu-Q stood and then back at his nameless friend, but the Reaper was already gone.

Xxx

Neku didn’t know what he was expecting to find outside Shibu-Q, but a pair of Harrier Reapers doing acrobatic dancing was not it. Neku smirked as he watched the reaper woman with electric purple lipstick—Uzuki, if he remembered correctly—pirouetting before using her friend as a vaulting block to spin up and over his back.

The two continued their routine, the man—Kariya, Neku remembered after a few embarrassed moments of mental fumbling—seeming lazy and unmoving but carefully and precisely supporting his partner’s flashy moves. The two continued for another ten minutes or so, then each held out a hat for change.

Neku patted himself down for his wallet before dumping three 500-yen coins in Uzuki’s hat as it passed around. She glared at him a moment, then pushed the coins back in his face.

“Not taking money from you,” she snipped. “I already owe you enough. Shoo.”

Kariya looked over his shoulder at Neku, momentarily confused. After all, the two of them hadn’t aged a day while Neku was now a lanky, slightly scruffy young adult. Realization crossed the Reaper’s features slowly, eventually tugging his mouth into a half grin. Kariya offered Neku a backwards half-salute and went back to waving his hat around for change.

Eventually the crowd dispersed. Kariya loped over to Neku and Uzuki, clapping Neku on the shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. You’re as tall as I am now. Good on you. How’s life treating you?”

Neku couldn’t help but laugh at the double meaning behind the words. “Busy. College.”

“You know, I wondered when I would stop seeing you run around the RG so much over here.”

“Never mind me,” Neku said, sloughing off Kariya’s friendly gesture and looking at the two of them. “How are you holding up?”

“How do you think?” Uzuki spat. “There weren’t many powerful Reapers left after that mess—at least for a while. So, some ass went and got themselves promoted to Conductor.”

Kariya looked down at his feet, blush going all the way across his face. “It’s not like I asked for it; I wasn’t given a choice. At least I negotiated that I could do things my way. Uzuki’s my GM.”

Neku frowned. “So… then you know the Composer.”

Kariya’s eyes went uncharacteristically fierce. “That’s on a need to know basis and—”

“Read my mind then,” Neku countered. “There’s something I do need to know.”

Neku closed his eyes and thought of Joshua. What he really wanted was to talk to Mr. Hanekoma, but the only way he was going to be able to do that would be going to Joshua first.

Kariya whistled low. “Okay. Fine. Kid, come here a sec.”

“Kariya, come on. Why are you even telling this kid anything? He’s alive. And—”

“He knows about Josh, Uzuki, I’m not giving him anything new. Just… maybe pointing him in the right direction.”

Uzuki pushed a loose strand of burgundy hair from her eyes. “Fiiiiine, whatever. You’re the boss.”

“You’ve seen him?” Neku asked quietly.

“’Course I have. He’s my boss,” Kariya said with a sigh. “Though he only comes to speak if he feels like it. I’ve caught him sulking over past the Miyashita Park underpass though. No clue why. Out there is just a bunch of sporting goods stores and Josh and physical activity mix like oil and vinegar. Hope that helps. What do you need him for, anyway? You’re alive.”

“It’s not him I’m even looking for,” Neku admitted. “I want him to tell me what happened to an old friend.”

Kariya relaxed a bit. “If said old friend has anything to do with the UG, might as well ask me.”

“I’m looking for CAT.”

Kariya frowned, scratching the back of his head in contemplation. “CAT was a Reaper? He— or she, I guess— stopped doing anything new after I became Conductor. Yeah. You’d have to speak to Josh. That’s before my time and below my pay grade.”

“Thanks anyway, Kariya,” Neku said, genuinely appreciative. “It’s better than nothing.”

“Anytime. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Neku closed his eyes a moment, sighing quietly. “Hope so too,” he muttered, opening them to an empty sidewalk.

Xxx

Neku headed eastbound towards Cat Street, passing Stride on the left. Gone were the Tin Pin banners, long since replaced with whatever new plastic toy battling fad that had taken hold of the local kids.

“You know, I heard a commotion from some of the older guard that a carrot was running around Udagawa.”

Neku had whiplash. Poised behind him with a cigarette loosely held in between his middle and ring finger was a face Neku couldn’t believe he was seeing.

“Seven?” Neku asked incredulously. He reached out his hand for the bleach-blonde, swaggering musician’s to find it cold as ice. Neku frowned. “Smoking kills, you know.”

777 played with the cigarette between his fingers. “How d’you think I died?” He gave a cocky grin. “Actually, I fell off a roof rigging an abandoned warehouse party. This is why you do safety checks. Tenho still gives me grief about it.”

Neku smiled weakly. “That bites.”

“The dust? Oof. Yeah. But hey, all three of us went down at once. The party scattered and when we showed up to play a new set a few weeks later nobody realized we weren’t exactly alive. They probably thought we broke a bone or two at worst and hid to lick our wounds—not cracked our skulls on the sidewalk.” Neku winced. “Er, sorry, Orange. Didn’t mean to dredge up anything bad on your end. Just odd, seeing you back.”

“Looking for someone,” Neku admitted. “The owner of the café that used to be on Cat Street.”

“Hanekoma? Stopped in there for coffee sometimes. Bit odd. His shop didn’t have the Player decal, yet he definitely served stiffs. Reapers as customers is one thing—we can go to the RG—but… hell. What do I know?”

Neku flocked his eyes up and down the street. Not that it mattered; Reapers could be in the UG right next to him and he wouldn’t know. “Yeah, he could see the dead.”

“ESPer or something?” Seven asked, blowing out a smoke ring that looked like a bat. Now he was just showing off.

“Something like that.”

“Well, fat lot that did him. Shop’s been MIA ever since I got recommissioned—maybe earlier. All I remember is, I had a double shot espresso there the night before that gig you helped me with, got blown up like two weeks later, and when I’m back to my good old dead self, the shop looks like it got exploded too. What the hell went on in this city that week?”

“War,” Neku said grimly.

“And you won, didn’t you?” Seven elbowed him in the shoulder. “You’d be one of my types now if you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, I did,” Neku said, throat dry. “Thanks for the chat.”

“You come to our next gig, you hear? You’ve gotta be old enough to drink now. VIP for you ‘n the cute chick you were with. Or, uh, anyone else. Don’t know if asking her would be awkward. She made it out, didn’t she? Please say yes.”

Neku smiled. “She did, and we’re still friends. I’ll ask. She won’t look like how you’re expecting though.”

“Neither do you, not-so-short stack. Now get outta here. I’m gonna finish my drag and get back to setup before Beej screams me out. Later.” Seven snapped his fingers and the cigarette exploded in a puff of blue fiery smoke. “Open invite, Orange, just tell the bouncer ‘golden bat’ at the door.”

Xxx

Neku inhaled. He knew past here was Cadoi, then Miyashita.

Then Cat Street.

Neku passed a small spot under the park underpass where Beat and Rhyme’s flowers had once been placed, leaving behind a tiny finger skateboard. Beat would probably punch him; Rhyme would find it hilarious. He did it to honor his once dead friend. Some kid would probably see it, and abscond with it, and play with it till it broke. Beat’s skateboard, in the hands of some kid passing by—it was fitting.

Neku let his memory walk him the rest of the way to WildKat. It stood as it had since the incident: a broken front window, a door barely hanging on its hinges. How it remained like this almost half a decade without developer intervention was shocking, honestly. Or maybe not, if divine intervention was involved.

Neku inhaled and took a step forward.

Again.

He carefully swung the door, afraid the whole thing would come off the frame in his hands. It squeaked something awful but hung by a thread.

The inside was worse. Neku should have brought one of his paint masks with him. The place was a fire trap of chipped plaster, dust, and mold. An old safe in the back corner was open on its hinges. The only things that looked clean were the sink, two sealed jars of whole coffee beans, and a single drip carafe, the rest of the row shattered beyond recognition.

Neku’s sketchbook and a mechanical pencil set still sat atop the dust-crusted counter. He’d left them there when he and Beat had returned— the only time Neku stepped foot in the shop when he was alive—to check on the shop.

To check on its owner.

Leaving the sketchbook behind seemed fitting. It was half full of random crap, and half empty, nothing but open promises in the end.

Maybe Neku didn’t need Hanekoma, or CAT, or the old shop. Carefully, he made his way around a splintered bar stool, sidestepped a broken glass pitcher, and hauled himself up on the only stool left in sittable condition.

Reverently, he opened the book. He almost laughed at his fifteen-year-old self’s sketches. The first three pages were ideas for tags around the city. He actually cringed at one.

Then a page of Shiki—a quick sketch, half likely from stolen glances and half from memory, because it was her as herself on the left, and as Eri on the right.

Ideas for Beat’s skateboards.

Architecture sketches

An entire six pages of circles and cubes, shaded with hatching or a blending stump.

Neku turned to the next page.

In handwriting that wasn’t his, scrawled in large block print…

TURN AROUND, DEAR.

Xxx

Neku screamed. It wasn’t one of fear, but frustration. “You slimy, little—” he shrieked, as he spun around in the stool expecting to see a smarmy, fifteen-year-old-looking blonde, if the agelessness of the other UG residents was anything to go by.

Instead, a softly frowning man in his mid-thirties stood behind him.

With blonde fly-away hair.

And strange purple eyes.

And a blue-purple button down with white accents and charcoal slacks.

Neku bit his lower lip, holding back a fury he hadn’t had in years.

“You.”

“I come in peace,” Joshua offered, hands up defensively, glowing slightly. “I wrote that years ago. Now I kind of regret it.” Neku relaxed a little. Joshua would be dramatic enough to do that and scare him when he entered the shop, wouldn’t he?

“Only kind of, though,” Joshua added, pulling a broken chair from the rubble, fixing it with a shake and sitting down beside Neku. “It’s still Imprinted. I’m not in the RG. The note left a bit of me in it. You see it, you see me, too.”

“You been tailing me all day, too?”

“I felt you in the city, but no. Only when I got a text about it.”

Kariya. Of course.

“Your conductor rat me out?”

“He did say you were looking for me. So, might have imprinted on you a bit to push you here.”

“You could have come and—”

“—said hello? No, actually, I can’t. I’m on probation. Can’t enter the RG for a decade. Not the biggest deal for me, mind, but… humans don’t live near as long as things like I do. I needed you to come to me. Glad that thing still works.” He tapped the notebook, his hand clipping through a page or two like he wasn’t all there.

Neku exhaled. “I trust you, you know. Still don’t forgive you, but I do trust you.”

“I know. I appreciate you said it aloud, but I know.”

“You look better when your clothes actually fit.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve gotten better at keeping up with me,” Joshua said with a bit of a grin.

“You’ve slowed down in your age, you old fart.”

“Old? Fart?” Joshua pouted, and where there had been a well-put-together adult sat a petulant teenager in the same attire, now oversized to the point of baggy. He looked as the Reapers did—unaged.

“At least now you fit in with the rest of your underlings,” Neku huffed.

Joshua frowned. “I wish I did, honestly.” Quietly, he stared off, past Neku to the empty kitchen.

“Miss him too?”

“More than you,” Joshua shot back.

“Didn’t have many friends?”

“Comes with the job.”

Neku rolled a pencil between his fingers. He’d caught the proverbial tail and didn’t know what to do with it. Joshua was here and clearly knew just as much as Neku did about his former idol’s whereabouts. They sat in silence as Joshua’s likely million-yen watch ticked away.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Neku replied flatly.

“You’re no fun, Neku,” Joshua needled. “Fine. Look, Sanae liked you, more than just the fact that you were my Proxy. Hell, I’m surprised he helped you at all, knowing what you represented in my Game. You were the bad guy.”

Joshua slunk in the only-until-recently broken bar seat, kicking at a shattered tile with an awfully expensive sneaker. When he couldn’t quite reach, his form shifted back to that of an adult, flinging the chipped tile aside like a petulant child. “Neku, I need you.”

“Like you needed me to destroy Shibuya.”

Joshua exhaled, wisps of golden hair fluttering as he stared at anything but Neku. “I’ve been trying to find Hanekoma for years. Every moment I’m not here keeping the city together, I’m traveling to find him. You wouldn’t understand, but I need you to get a lock on him.”

“You’re dimension hopping.”

Joshua sat straight up, his too-long legs hitting the café bar as he did so. “Fuck,” he hissed, rubbing at his knee. “Too tall for my own good. But how? How could you even know that?”

Neku pointed to the safe at the back corner of the café, still just as ajar as he left it when he found the key pin with Beat back in the game. “Mr. H. left me a book of notes: on the game, on angels, all of it.” Neku scrolled through his phone. “I used to keep it on me, thinking it would help me somehow, someday. Eventually, I just scanned it all.”

“Gimme,” Joshua demanded, and the phone was in his hands. Neku watched in awe at the Composer’s speed reading. “I know he kept notes for the Angels, but this wasn’t for them—it was for you. Where’s the real deal?”

“My apartment.”

“Address. Specific location. I’m talking ‘fourth floor, third bedroom, under the red futon next to my stack of- ‘”

Neku cut him off quickly, rattling off his exact address and where he hid the book. Joshua held out a free hand, and in a moment, it materialized with the softest of thunks, pages fluttering in Joshua’s fingertips. “Be glad I’m on good terms with the Composer of Taito Ward,” Joshua admonished, pointing with the small hand-bound journal. “Otherwise I would have sent you home to go get it yourself.”

“What, are you going to track down Hanekoma with this?”

“No, of course not,” Joshua snorted, standing upright, shaking himself once to completely dissipate any plaster shavings or broken chips from his clothing.

“You are.”

Xxx

Neku watched in awe as Joshua’s back bloomed with light, a pair of massive swan-like silver-white wings settling on his back, iridescent with hints of lavender as he shook them loose. Before Neku could think, Hanekoma’s journal was thrust into his hands, and Joshua had him in a position he’d later call The Little Spoon of Death. With a jerk backwards, the two fell through and landed precisely where they’d been before, except the shop was in clean, working order, jazz playing on the radio, and a familiar voice humming tunelessly along with the guitar.

“Heya, Josh. Back so soon?”

Neku blinked and almost cried when he saw the man behind the counter. “H-Hanekoma?!? Mr. H?”

“One of,” Hanekoma said with a shrug. “Not the one you’re looking for though.”

Neku tried to surge forward to give the man (angel?) a hug but was held firmly in place by Joshua’s murderous grip around his waist. “Let go,” Neku whined through gritted teeth.

“Not a good idea, Boss,” Hanekoma chided. “You don’t want to get stuck in the wrong place.”

Neku let himself slacken. “I can get stuck?”

“Sure as the rain ruining my day,” Hanekoma agreed. “When you’re in the right place, you’ll know.”

“Can you help?”

“Can I? Sure. Will I? No. He’s a hellion. You’re never going to find him anyway.”

“Isn’t he another you?”

“You wouldn’t say the same thing if you met you from this world,” Joshua said, exasperated. “I wonder why the book sent us here.”

“This is where you hid after Minamimoto tried to erase you, isn’t it?” Neku asked. He flipped through the journal. “He hid somewhere high to wait for you. Because he thought this Hanekoma would turn him into the Angel Police or something.”

“I did,” Hanekoma said proudly. “Can’t have me ruining my good name.”

“Fuck off,” Neku spat at the barista. “You’re not Hanekoma.”

“I’m the part of Hanekoma that actually follows our rules.”

Joshua squeezed Neku tighter. “Hold on and keep thinking of that.”

“What—whyyyyyyyyyy?!” Neku screamed as sound escaped him. The whole universe lurched underneath as Joshua resumed pinging around between alternate realities, barely stopping to breathe.

“Focus!” Joshua ordered him through the din of dizzying WildKat cafes, Shibuya skylines, and for a brief moment, possibly the cold depths of space.

“THERE IS NOTHING TO FOCUS ON YOU DAFT ZOMBIE!” Neku shouted back, feeling his insides out and outsides in before the two bounced off a massive plate of glass and went rolling out to nowhere. Joshua pulled his wings around them, breaking the fall as they bounced a few times to the sounds of shattering glass.

They stilled. Neku could hear his own breathing and feel his heart jumping in his chest. Disquietingly, Joshua had neither breath nor a heartbeat, his torso flat against Neku’s back without any noticeable sign of life. Neku quietly filed that part under “disgusting, do not remind” and wiggled a little to loosen Joshua’s grip on his midsection.

“Hang on,” Joshua hissed out. “Easy does it.”

“That was easy?”

“You should see hard,” Joshua said, smirking as he raised an eyebrow. “And it might surprise you but… I think we’re here.”

Joshua rocked on the shoulders of his wings, pushing them both upright and parting a crack for them to see from.

The world consisted of a single, stained-glass building in a shattered-glass sky. The ground crunched with hardened paint beneath them.

“Somewhere high, following the rules… and nothing to focus on. Neku, sometimes, only sometimes, am I reminded of your genius.”

“I am in elbow-to-face range,” Neku reminded him.

“Yes, dear, and you’d best stay that way unless you want to swallow glass,” Joshua pointed out. “I’m too concerned about flying through that with a passenger, let alone someone alive, so we’re going to walk in tandem to the entrance and pray there’s no tricks along the way.”

Neku wanted to argue he wasn’t much for prayer but being cocooned in angel wings wasn’t doing him any favors in that department.

“Well at least I’m getting the inspiration I was looking for,” Neku muttered as he marveled through the tiniest of openings in between Joshua’s feathers. They both shuddered as pellets of colored glass dogged them like rain, Neku grimacing with each step.

“I think that is this world’s rain,” Joshua said aloud. “What? You’re thinking too loud. Either shut up or I’ll nitpick your thoughts. Last you want to do is swallow glass talking out loud, anyway.”

They walked in silence for what felt like eternity, roughly matching steps so their wing-cocoon tank didn’t topple. Peppered by the shards of rain, Neku was slowly getting a better view of the world outside his feathered umbrella.

The tower reminded him of Pork City, though it stretched upwards through molten clouds that burned red hot like liquid glass being worked at a forge. The whole thing was stained glass of infinite color—giant, angular panes crossed and reinforced by black, wrought iron-like supports, with sharp points sticking out at odd angles from the structure.

“I think so too,” Joshua agreed with Neku’s wandering thoughts. “That’s Pork City, all right—made from Reaper wings. It looks like a gorgeous prison. A prison all the same, though,” he added, sighing.

Soon enough, the entrance loomed overhead, its maw of black webbing haphazardly stuffed with angular pastel glass. The tinkle of the rain bounced off the overhang as Joshua ever-so-slowly folded his wings behind him.

“I think you’re safe, for now,” he said, with the authoritativeness betraying his true age. “I promise, I’m not going to let you die here—you’re still holding Sanae’s book.”

“Because that’s all you care about,” Neku grumbled, to Joshua’s pout. “Oh, come off. I’m going to make up for all the teasing you did to me. Now let’s hope there’s an elevator in there or you’ll be flying us up the stairs.”

Xxx

“Lights are on; nobody’s home,” Joshua said, looking around as the two shuffled inside. “Okay, I’m letting go.”

“You’re what!” Neku shrieked, breathing heavy as Joshua smirked, unhooking his hands from around Neku’s waist. “Didn’t that other Hanekoma say it was a bad idea?”

“Oh, it’s a cataclysmically terrible idea. You’ll be trapped here forever now.”

“Joshua–I—you’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”

“I mean, of course. I’m an ass, but nobody’s that heartless.”

“You murdered me. Twice.”

“I also brought you back to life, so no complaints,” Joshua snipped back. “Now, what have we here?”

Neku sighed, reminded of exactly how aggravating the little god could be. He looked around the entry foyer. The walls inside the building were a blinding white, almost piercing in their contrast to the stained glass on the outer walls of the monstrous tower. “I think this thing is alive,” Neku muttered.

“It’s not,” Joshua said, almost too quickly. “Or, rather, it’s as alive as Sanae or I am.”

“So it’s, what, an angel?”

Joshua kneeled down to touch the floor, a soft white abalone with a pearlescent sheen. “Yes. And we just entered the mouth.” Neku shuddered. “Oh, it’s not really that big a deal, Neku,” Joshua said, standing up and tsk-ing him with a finger. “This building is no more going to digest you than a wooden one; though I’m sure you’ve seen trees grow around and consume cars and houses.”

“Not helping,” Neku grumbled. “Hey, I’m not sure if it’s the retina damage, but are the walls bleeding paint?”

Joshua tucked his massive wings up high on his back, where they still trailed behind him like a couture dress, and shimmy-hopped over to the interior wall. “Oh, it’s probably retina damage,” he said cheerily, “you’re looking at pure light after all. But you’re not wrong.” Joshua swiped his hand along the wall, coming off it with a smear of mustard yellow acrylic paint. He blew on it, drying it immediately, and peeled it off like a face mask. “Must be the elevator hidden in the wall and… here we go.”

With a squelching sound like wrenching a tooth out of its socket—Neku wondering with a shudder that if that actually was a tooth—Joshua dislodged the panel, revealing a plush, red-velvet-lined elevator speckled with flecks of paint.

“If that’s a tongue, I’m out of here,” Neku complained.

“It’s not a tongue,” Josh said with a suspicious grin, stuffing himself inside with his wings still exposed. Neku shuffled and squeezed in, a massive feather poking him in the backside. The doors closed. “It’s the esophagus, Neku.”

Xxx

“Can’t you put those away?” Neku asked, after what felt like an eternity of being smothered by a giant chicken.

Joshua sighed, looking more serious than Neku was ever used to. “Yes, but I won’t.”

Neku expected him to elaborate, but Joshua merely went silent, hands out and open and feathers fluffed up.

Quickly, Neku understood why. It started quietly, a ping and a plop and a hiss, and became louder and more intense with each passing second. A few moments later, Neku was positive he wasn’t hearing things; it sounded like rain pouring from a gutter except… the rain was a stream of fire-engine red and the gutter was the walls of the elevator. The liquid pooled in the velvet flooring like blood matting the fur on a wounded, furry animal.

“Neku, move in before I make you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice as Joshua threw his wings up around them again, reaching a hand out of the fluffy shield to pull the emergency stop on the elevator panel. Neku didn’t even realize how fast they’d been ascending until they screeched to a halt.

“The walls are bleeding.”

“Paint,” Joshua replied. “It’s just paint.”

“You also said the building was an angel,” Neku reminded him testily. “What’s to say that this isn’t—”

“Angel blood melts like acid,” Joshua replied flatly. Neku didn’t know if he were telling the truth or not, but the soles of his shoes, now caked in it, weren’t dissolving.

Joshua pulled him close, wrapping his left arm around his shoulders and left wing over that like a shield. Neku couldn’t see anything but white, but he felt a jolt of exertion and heard Joshua swear low.

“Neku, dear, stay close and don’t scream.”

In the time it took him to blink, the Joshua that Neku was familiar with vanished. Every pore of the elevator was leaking paint in gushes now; thankfully blues and greens and hot pinks, to put Neku slightly more at ease, balanced evenly with the remainder of the free space taken up by living, swirling paint.

Noise.

One giant one.

It was silent and snake-like, and it dug its claws into the elevator door, wrenching it open without a sound save the rushing air.

The elevator had stopped between two floors, and the Noise slipped out the bottom to slide down to the floor below.

Move, it demanded of him. Drowning in paint doesn’t belong in your obituary.

Neku more or less knew the beast had been Joshua, but the voice in his head finally cemented it.

“I’ll break my legs.”

“I’ll catch you.”

Neku didn’t even register the response said aloud, slipping down the paint-soaked velvet and landing in a nest of color-streaked feathers.

“See?”

“I’m drenched,” Neku grumped, and then realized he wasn’t. His and Joshua’s clothes were pristine again, though the wild streaks of paint still covered Neku’s arms and Joshua’s feathers.

“Not getting rid of it all. I don’t know if the building is trying to attack us and I’d rather we still smell like it.”

“You think?” Neku asked sarcastically. He looked around the room. Paint had pooled in oil-slick puddles on the floor and was leaking out cracks in the walls. Neku heard dripping from overhead, looking up to see globs of color slowly plopping from the ceiling. The acrylic paint’s own drying-to-plastic properties were likely the only thing preventing a flood of multicolored rain on them.

Carefully, Neku hot-footed around the deepest puddles and made his way to the stained glass on the perimeter.

“We are really high up,” he breathed out, looking at the world below.

Joshua fluttered, and landed gracefully next to him. “We are. Care not to break the glass.”

“I’m not that—”

“—without me,” Joshua continued, barreling for the window, grabbing Neku as he shattered an entire pane.

For a moment, time stood still, not that it mattered much in this place to begin with. The triangular pastel shards exploded out with them on the side of the building and Neku swore he heard it scream. The shards from the broken window floated around them, glittering against the glass rain pelting them from above. Joshua pulled Neku in tighter, wings curled.

“Duck.” That was Neku’s only warning as Joshua opened his wings to propel them up against the pellets of crystalline rain before hurling himself sideways, crashing into another exterior wall.

“Human bodies are too frail,” Joshua tsk’ed at him once they finished rolling in a 20 centimeters deep pool of paint. With a hand wave, Neku found himself as clean as he could be, and free of scratches.

Paint sluiced down from their entry hole, likely streaking the outside of the building as the room began to drain. Neku shook the stars from his eyes as Joshua flicked his fingers across his button-down shirt, sending the liquid colors away as he did so.

His wings were still streaked with neon.

The room had no stairs, no elevator shaft, from what Neku could see. It was just glass around the outside and a concrete floor and ceiling. Scattered about the room were pillars and flat concrete pieces, some wall-to-ceiling, but most about half height—like an art gallery.

The entire room, save the glass, was completely covered in art.

Graffiti.

Classical.

Renaissance.

Ukiyo-e

Cubist.

It was one step short of being an eyesore. And as the paint drained out, pouring down the exterior side of the building, Neku could see the floor, too, covered with incredible works of art. He felt almost embarrassed when he moved his foot, leaving behind a hot-pink footprint on impressionist lilies.

“They’re just copies,” Joshua said sternly, looking around. “Technically precise, but nothing original except in how it’s all mashed together.”

Neku nodded. “I just stepped in Monet.”

“Well, a good copy. Poor Sanae. Stay on your guard, Neku; he’s up here somewhere. And he’s probably not going to look like what you’re used to.”

“Like how you were a dragon?” Neku asked.

“His street art handle isn’t CAT for nothing.”

“I’m assuming it’s not a housecat, then,” Neku hissed back, suddenly concerned. Both of them winced on hearing a howl.

Quiet, Joshua ordered inside his head. And stay behind me.

Neku nodded and the two wove their way through the gallery, following the sound of growls and irritated hisses. Joshua slowly peeled around a corner, motioning for Neku to follow.

A great graffiti-winged panther that Neku could only assume was Mr. Hanekoma glared back through acid-paint eyes.

Xxx

Joshua shoved Neku roughly aside, striding confidently to the massive graffiti beast.

“Hello, old friend,” Joshua said, tired and aged himself.

The creature screamed. The concrete half-wall Neku had been cowering behind exploded into fragments of color and shrapnel.

The beast froze, sniffed. It took one step, then another, leaning its gargantuan head over the broken divider to look down at Neku.

Neku had never been terrified before. Even in the Game, he’d had periods when he was scared, adrenaline coursing through him like the drug it was. But this abject fear to witness a man he trusted—who he might even consider a friend—be reduced to a mindless abomination drooling tempera paint overhead was sobering.

The beast opened its maw wide. Joshua jumped to his side in a flash, throwing up a wing to protect him.

Hanekoma tilted his head a little, reminiscent of a puppy. “Ne….ku?”

Xxx

Neku and Joshua watched over the next…however long it took. Hanekoma paced, occasionally knocking over a bucket of paint or, in one case, slamming into one of the concrete half-wall dividers with his flank as his graffiti form jittered and convulsed.

He’s coming back around, Joshua hissed in Neku’s head. At this point, we just need to wait.

Neku nodded. Joshua still held a wing up and an iron grip on the other’s arm and waist, but it was with good reason. Hanekoma screamed again, rupturing the concrete and Neku’s eardrums. For a few moments, Neku saw nothing but static, before the searing pain faded.

“—Sanae, Sanae, come back to us,” Joshua pleaded in croaking whispers as Neku’s hearing returned. “Please. Your attacks are only hurting him, see? I just had to completely repair his eardrums.”

The cat-beast howled again, knocking Neku utterly unconscious this time.

Xxx

Neku came to on the floor of the gallery, slowly taking stock of the room around him through hazy peripheral vision. Most of the dividers were at least punched through, if not entirely destroyed. A cold hand covered most of his forward vision, however.

“Neku, can you hear me?” Hanekoma’s gruff voice was twanged with concern.

“He should; I fixed his eardrums twice in one eternity,” Joshua grumped.

“Mister….H?” Neku croaked.

“J, make him some water.”

Slowly, a sturdy arm pulled Neku to sitting, leaning his body back into something warm, but lacking breath and a pulse. It was too broad to be Joshua, confirmed when the other hand slipped away to take an offered bowl of water.

Hanekoma was in human form again. Human-ish, at least.

“Drink, kiddo.”

“I’m twenty,” Neku protested before coughing up a little blood, realizing that was the first full sentence out of his mouth to the former barista.

“Hey, all humans are kids to me,” Hanekoma laughed. “J, he needs his throat patched up too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joshua whined, leaning forward to place three fingers against Neku’s neck. Immediately, Neku felt a wave of calm wash over, and his throat felt clear. “Now drink, before I whip you up an IV. I can patch you up, but I’m not magically refilling you with lost fluids. I don’t have the brainspace right now for that.”

Neku slowly downed the water, leaning heavily into Hanekoma. “I don’t have the brainspace to brain for at least a week.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” Hanekoma added. “I’m not even sure how I’m back to any kind of sanity as it is.”

Joshua rolled his eyes and refilled the water bowl with a gesture. “Enough of you was sane enough to be worried.”

“You brought a living human as bait, J! Of course I was worried.”

“It worked.”

“That doesn’t make it—” Hanekoma hissed, squeezing Neku’s shoulders a little too hard.

“I missed you,” Neku cut in. “It looked like all of Shibuya did, even though they never knew who you were.”

“Of course they knew,” Hanekoma said gently. “I was the local barista, ready with a good cup ‘o joe. I was the artist that painted the town red.”

“All the Reapers I spoke to had nothing but praise for you,” Neku continued. “I ran all over the city today finding that out.”

Neku felt the single loud thump of a heartbeat from the ethereal body keeping him upright. “Really now?”

“None of them knew you had a connection to the game either,” Neku continued, getting a second wind. “They just praised CAT’s art and WildKat’s coffee.”

“Hmph.”

“Won’t you come back, Sanae?” Joshua asked, a pleading smile on his lips. “It’s been too long.”

“I wish I could, J.”

“What do you mean you wish? You’re an Angel, for Someone’s sake!”

“Er, about that,” Hanekoma said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m… well. I’m not not an angel, I guess. But this is my punishment.”

“You’re definitely under supervision,” Joshua said testily. “Your warden was more annoying than anything else.”

“I take offense to that,” Hanekoma’s voice reverberated through all three of them.

Joshua nearly growled. “You know, you could have skipped the theatrics. If you wanted us gone, you could have Erased us, or just booted us out.”

Neku blinked the last of the daze away. “Hold on. I’m missing something here.”

“Remember how we passed a million billion WildKats and Sanaes and Shibuyas trying to find this place?” Joshua grumbled. “And how Sanae knew what we were doing? Angels have a singular hive mind. Mostly. I’m not actually an Angel, mind you—sort of just a hatchling, an infant. But he’s a real-deal Higher Plane beastie.”

Neku frowned, putting up a finger, lost in thought. Hanekoma went to speak, only for Joshua to shush him.

“Neku’s smart enough to put the pieces together. Give him a moment.”

“I gave him at least a concussion, if not brain damage, J.”

“Which I fixed.”

“The building.” Neku’s face sharpened into a frown.

Joshua and Hanekoma turned their heads to Neku, now sitting upright unassisted as he bopped his finger to his own internal music, slotting what he knew in place. “You said the building was an angel. This building, this whole thing, is this dimension’s Mr. H. All of the other yous are mad at you, aren’t they?”

Hanekoma nodded, exhaling a sigh. “I’m… sort of still an angel. But they cut me off from the Hive and took my inspiration. I can’t leave until I have them back.”

“I’m going to have a word with Management.” Joshua hoisted himself off the shrapnel-pocked floor, stomping a foot. “Elevator, if you please.”

“J, you’re crazy.”

“Aware. So?”

The three heard a ding as a concrete cube rose from the floor, the elevator with it. It opened with a smooth motion, the door already fixed but the interior still caked in paint.

“Am I the hostage negotiator, or can all of us go?” Joshua asked the elevator, irritated, arms crossed and wing-feathers fluffed in annoyance. In response, the elevator ballooned sideways, expanding the interior to accommodate three adults and one massive pair of wings.

“All right,” Joshua sighed out. “Everybody in.”

Xxx

The elevator hummed pleasantly and dinged, opening back up to the pearly-white entryway. The large front doors—triangular shards of crisscrossing stained glass—were blocked off by an aggressive black chain and padlock. A gleaming solid front desk sat at the entryway with a bored Hanekoma flipping lazily through a completely blank magazine. He shot them a grin; Neku noticed he was missing a tooth.

“Ah, hello. Thanks for giving me one heck of a sore throat, J.”

“Can it. I’m busting him out,” Joshua snapped, straight to the point.

Hanekoma put down the magazine, all high-gloss and solid-white pages. “Oh? How?”

Joshua pointed at the door, the chain and lock melting like acid under his gaze. “The front door, how else? Unless you want a few more teeth popped out.”

“That isn’t what I meant, J,” Hanekoma-behind-the-counter said simply. “Your me isn’t an angel right now. You take him out of here and he’s a mortal. I give him a few decades, tops. Stay and he’ll pay his price eventually; won’t you, you sorry excuse for a me?”

Joshua’s Sanae wrung his hands. “I’ll head back up. I did say you didn’t need to come for me, J.”

“If you leave before your sentence is up… you’re mortal?” Joshua asked, his voice cracking a little.

“Yeah, sorry Boss. I’ll take the long way ‘round.”

Neku frowned, scratching at some dried paint on his cheek. “Hang on. What is his sentence exactly? Josh, you said yours was being banned from the RG, but nothing stopped you from letting me see the UG.”

Joshua broke out into a nasty grin. “Ohhhhhhhh Neku, dear. I need to have you get brain damage more often.”

“No,” Neku interjected flatly.

“Aw, it was only a temporary inconvenience. Anyway, Sanae—either of you—what is his exact punishment from the Higher Plane? I want the full contract.”

The glass world’s Sanae slid him the blank magazine. “They were pretty thorough.”

Xxx

When Neku turned his back on the front desk, a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table, all in different shades of blinding alabaster, existed under the overhang just to the side of the entryway. The tinkle of stained-glass-shard rain peppered the overhang roof and a rainbow of garish light streaked in between the storm clouds outside. Joshua lifted his wings, draped them over the back of the sofa, and got to reading.

The only sounds were the tinkling of the rain, Joshua’s ever-ticking watch, and the occasional turn of a page.

Neku tapped his fingers on his jeans. “Can I do anything?”

“No,” muttered Joshua, half in thought flipping through the plain pages.

“Haven’t you done enough?” asked the bored warden, slouching at his desk.

“I could… clean the elevator,” Neku offered, trying to figure out something to do. He was definitely caught in some sort of celestial war, played out in miniature. Everything was over his head right now as he looked sideways to the glass-world Hanekoma. He looked the same as all the others—rolled-up button down, slacks, waistcoat, watch, sandals, sunglasses, messy hair—though he did seem a bit more… shiny, like light was reflecting off of him. Neku didn’t want to consider what it meant for him to both be standing at the front counter as well as being the entire building.

“You’d do that?” the glass angel questioned, confused.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m just standing here. And it’s partially my fault that happened. More so if it’s hurting you.”

“Angels aren’t people, Neku,” he replied, handing him a bucket of soapy water from nowhere. “We don’t feel pain.”

“You’re clearly in pain,” Neku shot back in a whisper after Joshua rustled the magazine loudly, clearing his throat in a way reminding Neku to not disturb him. “Let me help.”

“Help, huh?” The glass Hanekoma smiled, the missing tooth returning to its space after a moment of static. “That’s a new thought.”

“Nobody’s ever helped you before?” Neku asked, concerned, as the elevator dinged and opened. He walked to it, both Sanaes following. One handed the other another bucket, then made one for himself. The three went inside and Neku took to the floor, carefully washing down the carpeting. The door slid closed and the three worked in silence.

“Not me, no,” the glass one admitted. “Not most of us. Angels don’t interact with your kind, or they really aren’t supposed to. I think some of us are jealous of the us from your world.” Another beat of silence. “I know I am.”

“Then why don’t you leave?” Neku asked.

“The other mes would make me a traitor, same as that one.” He jabbed his thumb at his duplicate. “In all honesty, I think it’s better than wasting away with only our own thoughts for company. All of us know it too—only that one said the quiet part out loud. There’s a small and finite number of angels, but an infinite number of each of us. One broken hive is a massive blow to the higher plane—kind of contradictory when you realize we run on Imagination. Think about it for five seconds and—”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Neku cut in, satisfied with the state of the floor, moving on to an aggressive teal spot on the wall. “If you run on Imagination but you’re made up as a ton of fragments that all have to think alike, any dissent and your own self turns on you. Seems a bit counterintuitive to have it that way.”

“The only possible outcome is to break apart from within,” Hanekoma agreed, but Neku wasn’t sure which one of them said it. Inside the elevator, the glass one didn’t have the odd shine he’d had in the foyer. At this point, he wasn’t sure it mattered.

Xxx

Neku and both Hanekoma exited the elevator, Joshua still pouring over the magazine. “They really did try and close every possible loophole,” he muttered. “I can’t see a way out… shy of killing you,” he added, looking up at the two angels. “And now I can’t even tell you apart.”

One of them smiled. “Neku just opened one up for you.”

“Oh?”

“Clause 16b.2.”

“Yes, ‘should the warden be unfit for service, Hanekoma is to serve the remainder of the sentence under a new warden.’ I was going to kill you and claim myself warden.”

“There’s no way the Higher Power would allow that. He’d just be transferred,” the other one said. Joshua raised an eyebrow to the first one—his Hanekoma. He slid his eyes between the two of them and the glass one scratched the back of his neck.

“Sit. I’ll get us something to drink.”

Neku shrugged and practically threw himself into one of the chairs, sighing as he sank into it. It was soft and warm and the light pinging of the rain overhead was lulling him to sleep.

“Stay awake,” Hanekoma ordered, pinching his elbow. “You started going see-through when you passed out last time—it’s what jolted me to consciousness. You aren’t coming all this way just for me to see you fade to nothing, Neku.”

Neku jolted upright, just as a steaming cup of coffee was placed in his hands. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” the glass Hanekoma said, determined. A third settee appeared between the other two; their captor-slash-host sat in it, placing a tray of coffee, tea, and snacks on the table between them. “And anyway, I’m unfit to be Hanekoma’s warden now. The Higher Plane may come for me soon. Though, soon here could be eons off. I know my time doesn’t run at the same pace as most of the other dimensions; that’s why I was picked to watch him. Joshua, they would never accept you under probation, but… Neku—you seem to be a favorite of upper management. Transferring to you shouldn’t be a problem. Hand him the contract, J.”

Neku blinked a bit of the daze from his eyes, downing the beverage. It felt like more than mere coffee, a solid glass of liquid courage, emboldening him.

Joshua hesitated, but passed the blank, glossy magazine sideways to Neku. He then stared down at the tray of offered snacks and carefully picked out a chessboard cookie, frowning at it, before biting the head off the knight’s horse.

Words swirled on the paper in Neku’s peripheral vision before he could see them straight off. “Can I get a translation?” he asked meekly, looking at the mess of block print before him.

“Did I not write it in Japanese?” Glass-Hanekoma asked.

“That’s not what I meant,” Neku sulked. “I can’t read lawyer.”

Joshua craned his neck sideways. “It’s a transferal of ownership contract. Standard language, except… hm. Neku, would you want to be an angel?”

Neku scrunched up his face. “Seeing what you deal with? No. I have enough trouble with artist’s block as it is. I’d rather it not be fatal.”

“Take out paragraphs eight and twenty, then.”

“Wait, this would have…”

“Made you one of us, yeah,” Joshua cut Neku off. “It does mean that if Hanekoma didn’t finish his sentence before you died, he would be mortal; so some sort of transferal clause needs to be added.”

Hanekoma snatched up the magazine, flicking it. “Consider it done. Sign and get out of here before I’m taken away too.” He grinned slyly. “Maybe I can keep the domino chain going. Wouldn’t the upper management just love that?”

Neku flicked his eyes to Joshua. “I still trust you, Josh. How’s it look?”

“We can take him with us. You’re his warden ‘til you die or his sentence is done, then you can renegotiate angelhood if you want.”

“But… what is his sentence?” Neku asked, looking between the now indistinguishable Hanekoma.

“I have to re-earn my Imagination: the human way.”

“No magic?”

“Some magic. About as much as Josh has. Which is a lot compared to you. Very little compared to before. And none at all when I’m not near my warden… though I’m not sure how near near is.”

“Don’t worry about that,” the second Hanekoma said, squeezing the first’s shoulder. “I’ve given you a little extra juice on your way. I’m sure they’ll take mine from me anyway. It’s enough to manifest your wings again, at least. Now get out of here, before there’s bigger problems. All of us is already tattling.”

“Bunch of assholes,” Hanekoma hissed under his breath.

“We both were, too. Well, me at least. Think you were always the black sheep. Now, sign and get.”

Joshua plucked a pen from nowhere, handing it to Neku who turned to the angelic twins. “You trust me?”

“With your life,” both Hanekoma said with a nod.

Neku signed with a flick of his wrist, the pull of slumber taking him again. He could barely hear Hanekoma and Joshua shout something as they hauled him upright at the torso.

With a jerk that felt like someone had tied a rope around his waist and then yanked on it from behind, Neku blinked his eyes open to Hanekoma’s shop, as destroyed as it was when they’d left it. He gasped for breath, completely winded and woozy, the world spinning around him until he succumbed, sliding out of Hanekoma and Joshua’s shared grip to bounce on the cracked tile floor.

Xxx

Hanekoma frowned, flapping feathered wings he forgot he’d missed. “J, you know you can’t throw yourself around the mortals—not like that. Not even to someone like him.” Carefully, Hanekoma pulled Neku out of the rubble, flinging his body over a shoulder. “Be glad he’s just passed out. If he stayed a moment longer in that dimension, he would have been gone. You could have killed him or worse.”

“But I didn’t,” Joshua insisted. “I needed him.”

“Did he know the risks?” Hanekoma asked roughly, finally free to yell at his former boss-and-ward without Neku overhearing. “He didn’t. You never told him.”

“You said in your notes that I’d be a strain on him. He had to know what that meant.”

“There’s a difference in knowing what your toned-down presence would do over a week versus what the full force of your power would do to him in a few hours,” Hanekoma chided. “He may have known the former, but you certainly didn’t tell him the latter.”

“What’s your point?” Joshua asked, watching Hanekoma shift Neku’s unconscious form into a more comfortable carry.

“My point is, stop breaking things, J. Stop treating everything like a broken bone that’s healing the wrong way. Not everything has to be shattered even more to fix it.”

“You were imprisoned by the Angels! All for trying to protect this city!” Joshua protested.

“I would have finished my sentence eventually,” Sanae countered in a calm and even tone. “I may have been in that place for eons, but it was—what? Three years here, maybe?”

“Five,” Joshua whimpered with a pout.

Hanekoma’s eyes flicked up and down Joshua, seemingly searching for something. “I’m putting Neku down in a room and warding it. He needs to recoup.”

Hanekoma turned on his heel to the shop backrooms, leaving Joshua standing confused in the mound of rubble.

Xxx

Whatever Hanekoma was doing, he was taking his sweet time. But Joshua heeded the barista’s words and waited, rolling his shoulders and slowly ratcheting his own wings back into the ether. Bored, he made himself a broom from Imagination and began idly sweeping up the chipped plaster and shattered tile. Eventually, Hanekoma returned to the shop portion of the building, eyeing Joshua.

“Physical labor? That’s a first.”

“I… I feel,” Joshua said, stopping to roll the broom handle in his fingertips. “I feel responsible.”

Hanekoma lowered his shades, peering over them. “Responsible. Who are you and what have you done with J?”

“I grew up, Sanae. Someone had to. You weren’t here. I have a new Conductor and Producer now.”

“What, so I’m outta a job?”

“I’m not kicking you out,” Joshua said, almost pleading. “You just don’t have any obligations. Other than your sentence, I guess.”

“With Neku as my warden,” Hanekoma sighed out. “You didn’t need to plan a jailbreak, J. You’ve waited longer than five years for things before. It’s hardly an eye-blink to people like us.”

Joshua slunk to the floor, defeated and boneless as he slid down the broom handle. A small cloud of debris puffed up around him as he went.

“Drama queen,” Hanekoma tsk’ed as he joined his former colleague on the floor, nesting his wings around himself. “I can’t say this isn’t nice though. Missed ya, J. Being honest, I don’t remember much at all from that place, anyway. Could’ve been a long time there before I became myself again without your little stunt.”

Joshua didn’t answer.

They sat in silence a few moments, then Hanekoma choked back a cry as his coworker—his friend—grabbed him from behind, wrapping his arms around him just under his wings. Hanekoma flapped them in surprise as Joshua buried his head in the down.

Angel and Reaper wings were their Soul; one didn’t just touch them—not without explicit permission. To touch someone’s wings meant someone else could feel what they did. Feel their joy, their disgust, their pain, or all at once.

Hanekoma didn’t pull away. He could hear—just barely, but it was there—Joshua sobbing silently into his back. Joshua was, for the first time in his so-called-life, showing Hanekoma a vulnerability he didn’t know the other even possessed. Slowly, the barista relaxed both sets of shoulders, taking on more and more of Joshua’s weight until his Composer was literally leaning on him as much as metaphorically.

Seconds ticked away from Joshua’s Pegasso crystal-quartz watch, which turned to minutes, then a solid half hour. Slowly, Hanekoma felt the weight lift.

“You let me,” Joshua said, a bit hoarse, patting the down where wing phased through clothes.

“You needed it, J. Pain shared is pain halved. I was happy to listen.”

“You didn’t want to be saved,” Joshua said sharply. “Forgive me for feeling like you were ungrateful. But… you weren’t. You were protecting me from the angels and a sentence like yours. You were a fall guy.”

“Yes,” Hanekoma said slowly. “I didn’t want you to suffer, too. Not being visible to the RG is hardly a penalty compared to what I have.”

“Pain shared is pain halved,” Joshua threw back at him, wiping snot off his face. If he’d been in his teenage form, he would have looked like just another kid. But Joshua was an ugly crier, and as an adult, he just looked silly—more so with a few errant feathers from Hanekoma’s back stuck to his dripping snot and hair.

“Wash up—the backroom sink works,” Hanekoma insisted, flapping his wings a few times to get rid of any other loose feathers. “I need to do some tidying, anyway.”

Joshua reverently ran his fingers through the shoulder of Hanekoma’s left wing. “Clean the shop all you want; you know all about me and dirt. But leave this part to me.”

Xxx

“I kinda expected more, Sanae.” Joshua leaned in the doorframe, pristine as her always presented himself to the public.

“I’m not exactly going to waste my magic, Boss.” Hanekoma went back to wiping down the countertops with a wet rag. The only change Joshua could see was all the broken furniture piled in a corner, with the floor debris in an equally uncoordinated pile.

“The human way?” Joshua asked with a smirk.

“If I’m not your Producer, I need a little art project to keep me busy.”

“Wouldn’t really call fixing a coffee shop art,” Joshua scoffed.

“It’s not not art, though,” Hanekoma countered, flinging the wet rag on a shoulder and smiling at the dented, but still functional, kettle on the burner, whistling away. “Tea?”

“Mm,” Joshua hummed with a nod. “Also, Neku’s phone was ringing nonstop.” He pulled his own from a pocket. “Oh. It’s past ten PM. Someone’s probably been wondering what happened to him. Least it’s still the same day we left.” Joshua cracked a small smile. “Gone for a week and the mortals think you’re dead or something.”

Hanekoma threw the rag square in Joshua’s face, storming past him to go retrieve the offending cell phone.

Xxx

Hanekoma sat on one of the two useable stools, Joshua behind him on the other, sipping tea from one hand while using the other to pull out stuck feathers. The barista unlocked Neku’s phone, scrolling through twenty missed calls. “Shiki. That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while.”

“You planning to call?”

“I should. Neku’s probably going to need a day or more to recuperate. And then you’re going to call his mother and let her know he’s sick with a fever.”

“Can’t. RG people can’t perceive me for another few years, remember? Phone calls included.” He grinned toothily. “You’ll just have to clean up the mess for me.”

Hanekoma sighed, stretching out his wings a little so Joshua could pull out all the powder down stuck from his eons of not taking care of himself, and pressed a familiar name in the missed calls history. “Hello? Shiki?”

“Oh my god, is this the police? Where’s Neku?”

“Shiki,” Hanekoma smiled a little, glad for a familiar voice. “It’s… Hanekoma Sanae—the café shop owner on Cat Street.”

Hanekoma waited patiently as Shiki processed what that meant. “If Neku is dead, I’m wringing a long line of necks. Joshua’s first; something tells me this is his fault.”

Joshua laughed hard enough to slam forward into the angel’s back; Sanae shot him a glare. “Neku is alive, but he’s taken a massive hit of Imagination. He’s probably going to sleep a day or two.”

“But he’s alive.”

“Alive and in no pain, with no injury. Mortals just can’t handle being around a city Composer too long.” Hanekoma glared over his shoulder at a snickering young-looking man in a lilac button down.

“I’m coming over there,” Shiki insisted. “And Joshua better be ready to take a knee to the balls.”

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to see or hear him, but hang on,” Hanekoma said, pushing back on the deadweight behind him with his wings. “I’m putting you on speaker. Feel free to yell at him—I already have.”

Hanekoma clicked to speakerphone, maximizing the volume and holding the phone out behind him.

“Go ahead, Shiki. He can hear you.”

Shiki took in a deep breath, expelling a gasp of colorfully laced expletives so pointed Joshua’s hair began to catch fire. The moment she was out of breath, she slammed the end-call button with enough force that Joshua’s wings twitched, even within their aether.

“Josh, you’d better be out of my shop before she gets here or you’re going to be in deep shit.”

“I didn’t realize someone who played the Game before could deal that much splash damage,” Joshua complained, patting out the embers on the edges of his loose curls.

“You were human once yourself, J. Now bolt before she sets all of you on fire.”

“Good night to you too,” Joshua grumped, crossing his arms as he slid off the seat, leaving Hanekoma’s wings in a worse looking state than when he’d started. He saluted awkwardly to the sighing barista, disappearing out into the night.

Xxx

“How are you holding up, kiddo?”

Neku rubbed the crust out of his eyes. “What year is it?”

“Same one you were in before this mess.” Hanekoma smiled. “You slept away three days, though. I impersonated you on the phone to your mom and college—hope that’s alright.”

“So it’s…”

“Monday night. Six PM. Josh’s going to stay away from you for a while.”

“That why I feel like shit?”

“Mhmm. You want me to bring you in some food?”

“Bathroom,” Neku complained.

“Think mine still works.”

“You think?”

“Neku, I’m not human. I’ve never needed it.”

Xxx

“So now what?” Neku bit into his burger; nothing Hanekoma made, but then again, his kitchen was mostly still in shambles.

“I guess I rebuild. Maybe I take some art classes at community college.”

“Then I’m helping.”

“No, you’re-”

Neku glared up from his dinner. “That’s not up for debate. I’m your prison warden, remember? I help and in return, you let me paint in here.”

Hanekoma laughed. “You don’t even need to ask permission for that.”

“Oh, so I can tag every wall, floor, and ceiling in this bombed out husk of a deserted island?”

The barista frowned, leaning forward on the counter. “That didn’t get me any closer to having any inspiration, you know.”

“And I think that’s a lie,” Neku replied, crossing his arms. “Josh didn’t see it either. Maybe the individual components were copies, but that space you made in that other place was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe it. Nothing we do is truly unique anyway; we’re always working off the backs of those who came before us. It’s what voice we add to that conversation that makes our art what it is and… I should really be following my own advice. Hang on. I’m making a few calls, and you’re not stopping me.”

Neku pulled out his phone and rolled through his contacts list. “Hey, Sho. I’ve got a destroyed café here ripe for a giant-ass chandelier. You in?”

“Neku,” the other end of the line sounded annoyed. “I don’t do electrical.”

“So? You do the sculpture; I’ll get someone else to wire.”

“It’s going to be made of trash.”

“Why do you think I called your ass? Take notes; here’s the address.”

Xxx

“I haven’t done heavy lifting in… forever,” Hanekoma said, wiping actual sweat off his brow. It was a weird feeling, being sort-of human, but he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. The past six weeks had been a whirlwind with Neku in charge, directing a steady stream of ethereal beings— self included— into a massive renovation of his shop. The place was an explosion of color and life, an irony in real time to contrast the lack of both on the owner.

“Quit complaining,” Uzuki demanded, hauling the other end of the new bar counter. “If I can get Kariya to lift your tables in, you can help with your own damn high-top.”

“The one you danced on,” Hanekoma said with a grin, looking down at the hot purple and neon orange footprints crisscrossing the acrylic-sealed bar counter. The two had tangoed across a plank, then encased it for eternity in enough two-stage resin that it would never fade—Neku was particularly proud of that collaboration. Uzuki pushed the shop door with her shoulder, so both of them could bring the counter inside.

“—and you don’t need to hold that ladder, Neku.”

“I don’t want you falling,” Neku snapped back, looking up at the Reaper wiring in the shop’s new light fixture. It looked like a vending machine had exploded on the ceiling, and Hanekoma loved it.

“Neku, I can fly,” Triple Seven replied, waving a pair of wire strippers. He was flapping his wings to show those off as well, not that Neku could see them from the RG.

“My masterpiece can’t,” Sho grumbled from the corner, looking on in a mix of horror and awe as Seven worked his stage rigging magic to get the recycled-bottle chandelier hooked into the building’s wiring.

“Look, it’s way easier for me to do this if I’m not trying to balance,” Seven sighed out. “Sho, get up here and hold it in place, so I can finish. Neku, go help do something that doesn’t involve a ceiling or frying yourself on open electricals.”

Sho sighed, stood up, and vanished back into the UG, flapping up to hold the sculpture as Seven jumped off the ladder. Neku winced, unable to see either of them.

“If you can hear me, I’m going to check on Shiki and her friends making chair cushions.” Sho rattled the ladder with his foot, and Neku smiled. “Hey, Mr. H, your shop’s haunted.”

“I’d be more worried if it wasn’t.”

Xxx

“So?” Hanekoma slid a ceramic cup down the acrylic to Neku. “Get your grade back yet?”

“Semester ends in January, Mr. H; it’s gonna be a while yet. How about your magic?”

“While this helped, no. It’ll be a while yet for me too. Can’t complain about the décor, though.”

Hanekoma and Neku grinned, taking in the space. Except for one section of wall painted with chalkboard paint for patrons to go wild doodling on, every square inch of the shop was covered in art altogether dizzying and explosively contrast in design.

“Opens tomorrow, right? My teacher is coming around again to see it.”

“Soft open today though.”

“Sign said closed,” Neku pointed out with his teaspoon.

“Maybe for the living.”

“Ah, a few reapers pass by?” Neku asked with a smile. “Hey, make a bet with you.”

“What?”

“How many days the shop’s open before a paying customer draws a dick on your wall.”

“Zero.”

Neku looked sideways as a handful of change bounced across the counter, Sho coming into view. He downed his already half-drunk coffee and loped to the chalkboard to vandalize it. Neku flicked his eyes at the empty tables and chairs, a massive grin breaking out on his face as every single one was filled in with a Reaper, raising glasses in toast.

“We all needed someplace to stay,” Hanekoma said on the room’s behalf. “Thanks for giving us a home. It’s still pretty broken and lopsided, but I promise we’ll keep the lights on.”

“Mr. H, this was already your home.”

He shook his head. “No, Neku. It was only a shop.”

“If its home, does that mean the drinks are free?” A few reapers turned to the furthest corner of the room—Joshua grinned, sitting backwards in his chair.

“J, what did I say about coming ‘round when Neku’s here?” Hanekoma scolded.

“…Don’t?”

“Short bursts only, lest you want to clean up the exploding brains on the wall.”

Neku shrugged. “It’ll probably add to the ambiance.”

#TWEWY #The World Ends With You #TWEWY Bang 2020 #Subarashiki Kono Sekai #divisionten #submission

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pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Fenris/f!Hawke smut: Pillow

Chapter 25 of my and @schoute‘s pirate AU Where The Winds Of Fortune Take Me is up on AO3! Read on AO3 instead; ~6200 words.

In which... okay, fine, I just wanted to write some smut from Rynne’s POV. SHE NEEDS A TURN. It was smut week for Pikapeppa, guys, don’t judge me ok.

*****************

- RYNNE -

Rynne stepped out of the crew’s quarters and onto the sunshine-drenched deck. She took a deep and happy breath before setting off toward the officers’ quarters.

She wasn’t due to meet Fenris for their usual sparring session for another half-hour, but she’d finished her morning lessons with Anders a little earlier than usual, and… well, quite frankly, she couldn’t wait for another half hour to see Fenris again.

Not that she’d been away from him for long. The few hours she’d just spent in the infirmary was the only time they’d been apart since she’d gone to his cabin yesterday evening. She’d even spent the night in his quarters – not on purpose, necessarily, since she couldn’t quite recall when their blissful night of post-coital conversation and kissing had blended into sleep. But when Rynne woke up this morning, it was to find Fenris sitting up at the head of the bed and watching her with that soft and serious look on his face.

And then he smiled at her. A smile on his gorgeous face – a face that was so often creased with seriousness, or perhaps lifted slightly with a smirk if he was in a sarcastic mood, but which she’d hardly ever seen in such a restful, relaxed state of peace. And with that smile, Rynne’s sleep-hazed mind was filled with a happy sort of disbelief: this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t one of her fondly detailed fantasies. She was in Fenris’s bed, and the look on his face couldn’t be more clear: he was happy she was there.

She smiled stupidly to herself as she made her way across the deck. The handful of crew who were milling around smiled at her as she passed them, and she threw kisses to them as she hurried along.

“Woah! Careful there, Hawke!”

Rynne squeaked in surprise. Varric was standing in front of her with a pile of parchment in his hands, and she’d just barely managed to avoid running straight into him.

She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Varric, I’m so sorry!” she gasped. “How terribly rude of me, almost slamming face-first into my favourite author…” She batted her eyelashes playfully.

Varric chuckled and patted her elbow. “All right, all right, no over-the-top flattery needed. You’re forgiven for almost knocking me out.”

She widened her eyes and pressed one hand to her chest. “Me? Over-the top? I would never! You know you’re truly my favourite author.” She peered nosily at the pile of pages in his hands. “That wouldn’t happen to be a new manuscript, would it?”

He smirked. “It might be. How much would you pay to get a preview?”

She sighed dramatically. “Sadly, I haven’t any coin. But if you’ll accept a poor girl’s pleading…”

Varric’s smirk melted into surprise. “Really? I thought Carver had left you a whole pouch of coin in that, er, care package he sent.”

“He did,” Rynne said. “But I spent it all.”

Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? Seriously? On what?”

“An unwise gamble,” she said casually. It wasn’t her place to share what had happened with Fenris and Varania. And besides, it wasn’t a lie, not really.

Varric frowned. “That was a lot of coin, Hawke. You sure you didn’t get ripped off?”

She beamed at him. “Oh Varric, are you worried about little old me?”

“A bit, yeah,” he said. “Even with that wicked scar on your head, you’ve still got this whole doe-eyed thing going on.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. It was a fair gamble, really. And Fenris was with me, so no one was going to try any funny business.”

Varric studied her worriedly for a moment longer, then shrugged. “If you say so. Listen though, if you did want a preview, I’d be willing to give you a sneak peek. There’s a romance scene in the chapter I just drafted.”

Rynne gasped. “Wait. Are you asking me to proofread?” she said excitedly.

He shrugged again. “I might be. A second set of eyes never hurts. Daisy usually helps me out, but she just left for Afsaana.”

Rynne nibbled her lip. The offer to proofread a romance scene was very tempting, and it usually would have drawn her undivided interest. But the lure of Fenris’s cabin was far too strong.

She squeezed Varric’s shoulder. “You’re too sweet to me. But maybe later?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Since when do you turn down a chance to read smut?”

Since I can finally get some real smut of my own, she thought happily. And with that thought, a fresh rush of anticipation made her heart flip. She might be going to meet with Fenris for their routine combat training, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t practice a certain something else afterwards. If he was willing, of course.

She couldn’t say that to Varric, though, much as she might want to. Rynne would happily announce her and Fenris’s fledgling relationship from the crow’s nest if she could, but Fenris was considerably more private than she.

“Since I have a training session with a certain handsome broody elf,” she said instead. “I’ll see you later!” She dropped a quick kiss on Varric’s head, then skipped off toward the officer’s quarters. A moment later, she was eagerly knocking on Fenris’s door.

He opened the door. “Hawke,” he said. “You’re early.”

Maker save her, he was smiling. A small smile, perhaps, but it was genuine and warm, and she couldn’t stop herself from grinning back at him like an idiot.

He stepped back to let her in, and she tilted her head curiously as she entered his cabin. “You don’t want to go out onto the deck?” she asked. They’d only ever trained in his cabin that one time – the time he’d kissed her and then turned her down, but she wouldn’t think about that – and even then, they’d only trained in here because it was raining.

“Not today,” he said. He lifted his left arm slightly. “I thought perhaps, with this wound…” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You asked me to treat it with care. If we remain here, you could monitor my movements more easily.”

She widened her eyes. “Wait. You’re going to follow my medical recommendations? None of your usual ‘Don’t fuss, Hawke. I have fought with worse’ manly-man talk?”

He huffed and looked away. “You speak as though I would never credit your advice.”

She laughed and took a step closer to him. “No, I don’t mean that. I’m just surprised,” she said. “You usually just keep on going even when you’re wounded. What changed your mind?”

He shrugged. “This wound is larger than the average scratch. It’s… restricting my movement.”

Rynne’s gaze darted to his face, and her belly bloomed with excitement. His words sounded matter-of-fact, but there was a certain quirk to his eyebrows that she really liked.

She fought to hide her smile and batted her eyelashes instead. “What kind of movement do you mean?” she said coyly.

He huffed again and gave her a chiding smirk. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually,” she said innocently. “Maybe you should show me.” She slid a heated gaze along the length of his body.

He shook his head wryly, then took a sudden step toward her.

Rynne inhaled sharply, then gasped again as Fenris took another step closer. Two heartbeats later, she was crowded between his body and the wall, and the rush of excitement filling her chest was so acute that she could barely breathe.

Fenris leaned in close to her, but not quite close enough to touch, and Rynne fought to drag some air into her lungs, but it only served to heighten her distraction: she could smell him, that special heated scent of his skin, and the sudden buzz of anticipation between her legs was so preoccupying that she couldn’t think.

He leaned even closer and brushed his lips to her ear. “Maybe you should collect your wits, Hawke,” he murmured. “You came here to train, didn’t you?”

She swallowed hard and tried to breathe normally, but… for fuck’s sake, she was panting already, and he hadn’t touched her yet. “There are lots of things I need training in,” she said faintly. She arched her spine to try and brush her chest to his.

He took a small step back. “None more so than survival,” he told her, and he pulled a practice dagger from his belt and handed it to her.

She dumbly took the dagger, then watched with a rush of disappointment as he stepped away. “You’re not serious,” she complained.

“I am,” he said. “I take your weapons training very seriously. This is a good opportunity for me as well.”

“How?” she said plaintively.

“I’ll defend myself using only my right arm,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re purposely handicapping yourself?”

“Yes,” he said. “As a training exercise.” He took a few steps back from her and settled into a ready stance with his left arm tucked against his side.

She stared at him wordlessly for a moment. Her breathing was uneven and rough, and she could feel the desire pooling between her legs. Yet Fenris was just standing there as casual as you please, looking for all the world like Rynne wasn’t melting from the inside out.

But the longer she looked at him, the more she realized that he wasn’t as calm as he seemed. His expression was more intense than usual, and his fingers were moving slightly as he waited for her to move – a slight movement, almost like a nervous habit, even though he was usually stock-still until she attacked. And the heavy rise and fall of his chest…

He wanted to test her discipline, did he? Well, two could play at that game.

She smiled slowly at him and twirled the dagger. “Showing off, hmm? Are you trying to seduce me?”

He smirked. “Come, Hawke. Attack me.”

She slowly licked her lower lip. When his gaze fell to her mouth, she lunged at him and stabbed toward the right side of his chest.

He dodged aside and snatched her dagger-holding hand. He dragged her forward and tripped her over his foot, and a moment later, she was lying flat on her back while Fenris crouched over her with the practice dagger in hand.

“You attacked my strong side,” he said.

She drew a shaky breath. “Yes? And?”

He gave her a chiding look and sat back on his heels. “You know why that is wrong. You ought to attack my vulnerable points. If I was an enemy–”

“You’re not an enemy,” she said. “You’re the ridiculously handsome man whose hands I want on my body.” She stretched slowly on the threadbare carpet.

Exactly as she’d hoped, his gaze dropped to her chest as she lifted it toward him. Then he scowled. “You… you need to concentrate. If I were your enemy, you would be dead.”

She pushed herself up into a sitting position. “Good thing you’re my lover, then.”

His eyes widened for a moment. Then he rubbed his mouth, and Rynne grinned; his ears were turning pink, and his hand wasn’t quick enough to hide his smile.

“Fasta vass,” he muttered. “You are irrepressible.”

“Thank you!” she chirped. “What a sweet thing to say.”

He snorted, then stood up and pulled her to her feet. “We go again,” he said, and he handed her the practice dagger. “Attack my left side this time.”

She tutted. “Come now, Fenris. I can’t just do as you say. Where’s the element of surprise?”

He gave her an impatient look. “Hawke, the longer you delay–”

She lunged at his left side.

His eyebrows shot up as he twisted away, but Rynne had already changed direction to slash at his right side instead. Fenris was forced to step hastily away from her feint, but a moment later he was in control again: when Rynne rushed him, he managed somehow to band his right arm around both her body and her arms before dragging her back against his chest.

She breathed hard, then stopped breathing altogether: his lips were grazing her ear. “You should be trying to strike me with the back of your skull,” he murmured.

She swallowed hard. “Are you quite insane?” she retorted breathlessly. “I’m not actually going to bash you in the face with my head. I’m rather fond of your face, you know.”

“You should try,” he told her. “You will only improve if you make an attempt.”

“What if I try a different tactic instead?” she suggested. Abruptly she pressed her bottom back toward his crotch.

Fenris grunted against her ear, and Rynne couldn’t decide whether the sound of his surprise or the hardness of his cock against her ass was more satisfying. Then he gently nipped her ear with his teeth.

She gasped with surprise and pleasure and almost missed his words. “This is not a tactic you need practice in,” he rasped.

She strained back toward him, then whimpered in frustration as he moved his pelvis away from her. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said distractedly.

“You are a beautiful woman, Hawke,” he said quietly. “I have seen you use your allure to your advantage in a fight. It’s a… resourceful tactic.”

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “So you do think I’m beautiful, then?” she said cheekily.

“You know I do,” he replied.

She paused in her restless twisting. She’d asked him this frivolous question multiple times and always in jest, but he’d never answered her directly before. He’d always prevaricated in some way, throwing the question back at her or making some sardonic comment instead. He’d never openly admitted before to thinking she was beautiful.

She stared at him over her shoulder. His face was serious and free of guile, and somehow even after everything that had transpired last night, part of her mind was still expecting him to scoff or deny the wonderful heartfelt things he’d said. To hear him telling her so openly that he found her alluring…

A pang of affection and relief plucked at something tender in her chest. Suddenly Rynne was done with this veneer of training, and it wasn’t just her impatient libido talking; it was far more than that. She was hopelessly in love with Fenris, and she desperately wanted to drop this combat-induced distance and just be with him.

She leaned back into his chest and tilted her head back. “Kiss me, then. If I’m so appealing.”

He didn’t reply, but his breath was warm as it ghosted across her lips. She shivered happily and arched her spine to press back against him again. “Please,” she panted. “Fenris, pl–”

He kissed her suddenly, sealing her lips and stealing her words and her breath. He released her from his captive hold and slid his hand up over her torso instead, and when he curved his palm around the front her throat in a tender caress, she whimpered helplessly into his mouth. His tongue was stroking hers, and the fingers of his other hand were sliding down over the tremulous tension of her belly and unbuttoning her trousers…

Yes, she thought eagerly as his fingers slipped into her smalls. Yes yes yes. When his fingers slid down past her curls to dip into her cleft, it felt so fucking good that her thoughts fled her mind for a moment.

He exhaled hard against her ear, sending a ripple of delicious goosebumps down her spine. “Fasta vass, Hawke…”

“I know,” she whimpered. She knew exactly what was driving him to distraction: she was completely wet with want, so much so that she could feel it seeping through her smalls. Her only surprise was that he was surprised at how aroused she was.

She turned her head to smile up at him. “You can’t really be shocked by this,” she panted. “You know how much I– f-fuck!” She broke off with a gasp. His fingers were circling the tiny bud between her legs, and the rush of pleasure was so sharp and dizzying that she lost her breath.

His breathing, on the other hand, was ragged and hot against her cheek, and Rynne couldn’t help herself: she impatiently bucked her hips toward his hand. He’d said to be patient last night, to slow down and move in time with him, but… Maker’s balls, sparring-turned-sex was one of the starring scenarios in her nightly fantasies, and to have it coming true now…

This was better than a fantasy coming to life, though, because her fantasies were soft and scattered images. This current situation was no soft and blurry moment captured by her half-dreaming mind. Everything about this moment was crystal clear: the plain wooden wall that her unseeing eyes had landed on, and the harshness of his breath against her ear, and the heat of his touch – fuck, the heat of it all: his warm fingers at her throat and between her legs and his semi-bare chest bleeding its heat through her shirt… All of it was clear and sharp and real, and that reality was far more appealing than even the most lovingly crafted daydream.

She twisted her hips fitfully and gripped his hand that was curved around her throat. He immediately released her neck and slid his palm down over her chest, and Rynne mewled with even greater impatience: she wanted his hand on her breast so badly, but she was wearing a damned bustier beneath her shirt.

He grunted in annoyance, apparently equally displeased by the barrier of her bustier. He pulled his hand free from her trousers, and Rynne mewled with distress as she turned around to face him. “Fenris, please,” she begged. “Please, please, I can’t… I need you–”

“Be patient,” he snapped, and she nearly laughed: he looked like the epitome of impatience. His chest was heaving with ragged breaths and his manhood was a visible rod in his breeches, and when he swiftly walked her back toward the bed and pushed her down, she actually did laugh.

“Patience, you say?” she teased. “I don’t know, Fenris, it doesn’t seem like you’re being very–”

He tipped her chin up. “Hawke, tell me this. Would you rather taunt me, or would you rather I remove your clothes?”

“Remove my clothes, of course,” she blurted. “And yours too, while you’re at it.” She reached for his tucked-in tunic.

He reached for her linen shirt at the same moment. Their hands bumped together, and she laughed brightly. “Shit,” she said. “Looks like we need to–”

He cut her off with a hard kiss. His hand slid along her neck and into her hair while his other hand roughly shoved up the edge of her shirt, and Rynne gasped eagerly against his lips as his fingers burrowed beneath her shirt to pluck at the laces of her bustier.

He broke from their kiss. “Take this off,” he whispered, and he hooked his finger into the cup of her bustier.

She whimpered as his finger grazed the edge of her nipple, then dragged off her shirt and started fumbling at the laces of her bustier with clumsy fingers. By the time her shirt and bustier were off, Fenris’s breathing was even but deep, almost as though he was forcing himself to stay controlled, and when Rynne met his gaze, her own breath stalled once again: his expression was intense and hungry, and it lifted yet another dizzying rush of desire deep in her core.

He bent over her half-naked body and took her nipple in his mouth. She gasped and arched her spine in ecstasy, and he took advantage of her lifted hips by pulling her trousers and smallclothes off. Once she was naked, he thumbed one nipple while suckling the other, and then his lips were travelling lower over her ribs, down to her navel and… and lower still…?

He placed a kiss between her legs, right in the place where the slickness of her arousal was smeared across her inner thighs, and Rynne gasped with pleasure and shock alike. She’d fantasized shamelessly about this particular act, especially after reading about it in Piper’s copies of The Randy Dowager, but the actual feeling of Fenris’s gorgeous sculpted mouth between her legs was… Maker’s balls, it was far more exquisite than any of her imaginings.

At the sound of her gasp, Fenris looked up. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she blurted. “Yes, I…” She broke off. Her mouth was dry with anticipation, and she swallowed hard so she could try and reassure him, but his expression was growing warier by the second.

“Do you want this?” he asked. “If not, tell me and I will stop–”

“No!” she blurted. “No, don’t – don’t stop. Of course I want this. I daydreamed about it–” She clapped her hand over her mouth. Fuck, she hadn’t meant to admit that.

His eyebrows rose. “You dreamed about this?”

Damn it, she could feel her cheeks turning pink. But now that it was out there, well… in for a copper, in for a royal. “Not dreamed. Daydreamed,” she clarified. “As in I thought about this on purpose. Well, not just this. About, um, you and me being together and naked and, you know...”

She trailed off. Fenris was staring at her wordlessly, and his unflinching stare somehow made her feel more exposed than her completely bare skin.

She cleared her throat awkwardly and tried to shift away from him, but he tightened his grip on her thighs to stop her. “Where are you going?” he said.

She laughed lightly. “Well, I was considering throwing myself off the side of the Lady Luck, but–”

“Why?” he said.

“Well, because I, you know!” She waved haphazardly at him. “Unplanned confessions, you know how it is. Makes a girl feel a bit embarrassed, you know, admitting I was fantasizing about you doing, um, what you were just about to do–”

He interrupted her rambling. “And what was that, exactly?”

She stopped and studied him carefully for a moment, then smiled. His tone was deadpan, but there was a distinctly heated smirk quirking at the corners of his lips.

She laughed. “You terrible man. Are you teasing me?”

His smile widened. Then he dipped his head low and ran his tongue along the length of her cleft.

A breathtaking shiver of pleasure bolted from the juncture of her thighs up to her throat, and she fell back on the bed with a gasp. An exquisite minute later, Fenris spoke again. “Do you think I didn’t imagine this, as well?”

She fought to catch her breath and lifted herself onto her elbows to look at him. “Did you really?”

He gave her a fond but chiding look. “Hawke, I told you last night. The things you said to me… you were not alone in this yearning. You were just the only one brave enough to say how you felt.”

She reached down and brushed a tuft of hair away from his eyes. “You’re brave, too. Don’t act like you aren’t.”

He shrugged. “I am now, perhaps,” he said softly. He lowered his mouth between her legs again, and she fell back and twisted her fingers rapturously in his sheets as he swirled his tongue between her legs.

The tense shiver of pressure was building between her legs, and his tongue and lips were tender but firm, and – fuck, it just felt so fucking good to have his mouth between her legs, and Rynne almost wanted him to pause for a moment so this could be drawn out for longer. Alas, it was too late; the boiling rush of pleasure was too strong, and a few delirious seconds later, she was shuddering beneath him and filling his small but cozy cabin with the sound of her cries.

Then he slid one finger inside of her, and a fresh rush of rapture forced another pleasured cry from her throat. “Fenris, please!” she sobbed.

He curled his finger slowly, making her jerk at the still-unfamiliar but exquisite sensation, and just when she was about to beg, he pulled his finger free.

Disappointed by the departure of his hands, she forced her eyes open and was immediately glad that she had: he was standing at the foot of the bed and roughly pulling at his tunic.

Good, she thought eagerly; naked was how she wanted him. But with only one fully mobile arm, he couldn’t get naked fast enough.

Rynne shoved herself upright and crawled toward the edge of the bed, then yanked at his shirt to pull it over his head. When his messy-haired head appeared once more, she lifted herself onto her knees and pushed his hair away from his face, then kissed him voraciously.

His lips tasted like her: warmth and salt-laced flesh and something primal, and the taste of her arousal on his mouth only served to make her even more desperate than before. Without breaking their kiss, she gripped his shoulders and tugged him onto the bed, and then she was straddling his hips and running her hands carefully over the unbandaged parts of his chest, then his teeth were pressing against her shoulder as he pulled her close – yes, they were pressed close, and she was so close to having him, so fucking close –

But there was a problem. In her haste to get him on the bed, she’d failed to take off his breeches.

She whimpered and pulled at his belt, then reached down to pet the bulge of his cock. “Fenris…”

He exhaled hard against her neck. “Festis bei umo canavarum,” he growled. He shifted her off of his lap and slid to the edge of the bed, then brusquely started undoing his belt.

While Fenris was wrestling with his belt, Rynne sidled up behind him and ran her hands down his scarred back, then kissed his shoulder and the back of his neck. She drew her fingers along the sides of his spine, and he shuddered. “Hawke…”

She stilled her hands. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” he breathed. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

He was smirking, and Rynne smiled back at him before smoothing her palms back up to his shoulders. She lifted herself onto her knees and nipped the tip of his ear. “No, I can’t,” she whispered. “Do you want me to?”

“No,” he said. “It is just… strange. But in a good way.”

She smiled, but didn’t reply. She knew what he meant. It was no small thing for Fenris to allow her to see his naked skin, certainly, but for Rynne as well, seeing him without his clothes was such a precious novelty. His skin bore his history, an unwilling record of the brutality he’d survived and the strength of spirit he was constantly trying to deny, and she couldn’t help but marvel at the privilege of seeing his skin laid bare before her besotted eyes. She couldn’t help but relish in the privilege of touching his skin, this skin which had borne so much pain in such a short life, and she’d be damned if she’d relinquish the chance to touch him now even while he tried to shed his remaining clothes.

She nibbled the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he let out a breathy grunt. A moment later, he was standing up and pushing down his breeches, and when he turned around to face her, she scanned him hungrily from head to toe.

He hunched his shoulders slightly and ran a hand through his hair. “You have seen me naked before.”

“Yes, but only once,” she said. “And I was a little preoccupied at the time, what with your cock inside of me and all.” She shot him a cheeky smile.

He smirked and tugged his ear. Then Rynne reached out and pulled him close.

He met her eye as she pulled him onto the bed again, and this time when she settled onto his lap, she was careful and deliberate instead of hurried and brash. Without breaking from his gaze, she positioned herself over his cock and cradled his neck in her palms.

“Can I fuck you now?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. He slid his palms along her back and down to her hips. “Go slow, Hawke. Don’t… I don’t want you pushing yourself.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. Slowly, just as he’d asked, she began to slide down onto his length.

Immediately she understood why he’d cautioned her. His cock felt thicker from this angle and the pressure was more intense as he pressed inside of her, and she closed her eyes to feel him as she lowered herself onto his lap.

“Breathe,” he murmured.

She exhaled tremulously. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. Then Fenris’s gentle fingers lifted her chin.

She opened her eyes to find him gazing seriously at her. “Are you in pain?” he whispered.

She shook her head. “No, not pain,” she panted. “It’s… it feels… you feel big,” she said bluntly.

He huffed in amusement, and she let out a breathless little laugh. Then he tilted her pelvis slightly and shifted beneath her. “Is this better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped. By moving her hips slightly, the angle suddenly felt easier, and Rynne experimentally rolled her hips over his.

A bolt of pleasure coursed from her abdomen through her limbs. She gasped again, and Fenris grunted and dug his fingers into her hips. “Hawke…”

She panted for breath for a moment, then smiled at him. “Fenris, did you just teach me something?”

He smiled as well, then groaned as she rolled her hips more firmly onto his. “Do that again,” he breathed.

Encouraged by his pleasure as much as her own, she continued to eagerly roll her hips. Then Fenris was lifting her hips with his strong tattooed hands, and now Rynne truly understood what he meant by moving with him: she and Fenris were falling together in tandem now, her hips coming close to meet his every hard stroke, and as she pressed her parted lips to his and breathed in his ecstatic gasping breaths, even the rise and fall of their ribs was a perfect match.

He braced one hand on the bed and the other at the back of her neck as he thrust into her, and Rynne gripped his back and his shoulders with increasing fervour as she dropped her hips low to meet him. Every hard stroke of his cock was like a lure, drawing her pleasure from the depths of her body and the whimpering moans from her throat, and when Fenris shivered and let out a guttural cry of pleasure, Rynne <em>felt</em> his climax in the pulsing hardness that he buried inside of her.

He rested his forehead against her neck, and his hot and heavy breaths drifted across her breast. She combed her fingers through his damp hair and down over the raised scars on his back, and for a wonderful peaceful moment, they simply sat twined together in each other’s arms.

Eventually Fenris leaned back to look at her, and she admired the contentment in his lazy half-lidded eyes before playfully pinching his chin. “Admit it,” she teased. “The training was a ruse, wasn’t it? This is why you really wanted me to come into your cabin.”

He huffed and dropped his gaze, and she grinned. “It is, isn’t it? You handsome fool!” She laughed and pinched his chin again. “Why didn’t you just proposition me? I was ready to crawl on top of you the second you opened the door.”

He shrugged and ran an idle finger along her thigh. “You came for your weapons training. I didn’t want to assume.”

She gave him a frank look. “I came for you,” she said. Then she perked up. “In more ways than one! How lovely is that?”

He snorted and pinched her waist. “You are an idiot, Hawke.”

She squeaked at his pinch. “Only for you, Fenris,” she giggled. “Only for you.”

He chuckled softly, and Rynne smiled and ran her hands through his hair, but she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes.

She stroked his cheekbones. “What’s on your mind?” she murmured.

“Nothing,” he said quietly. “I just… am pleased you’re here. That’s all.”

She smiled. “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

He finally looked at her, and Rynne’s heart swelled with tenderness: he looked so serious and so vulnerable, but he didn’t reply, and Rynne patiently stroked his neck until he took a deep breath.

“Hawke, I wanted to tell you, I… I got something for you.”

She raised her eyebrows. “For me? Like a present?”

“Not quite,” he said slowly. “It is on loan until, um… if you want one of your own here, that is.”

She smirked at his vague description. “Well, that’s exciting and cryptic. What is it?”

“It’s…” He trailed off and glanced at the head of the bed, and Rynne followed his gaze. Half-tucked beneath his now-dishevelled cotton topsheet was not one pillow, but two: the plain cotton-covered pillow that belonged to Fenris, and a second pillow that she hadn’t noticed before – a nice cushy one covered in scarlet silk which was absolutely not Fenris’s style.

She whistled. “That’s fancy! Are you looking to redecorate?”

He scoffed. “Absolutely not. I borrowed it from Piper.”

She gave him a funny look. “Why?”

“For you, of course,” he said. He idly tugged his ear. “If you… You slept here last night. I thought, if it was to become a routine…”

He trailed off awkwardly, and Rynne stared speechlessly at him as the significance of this gesture hit her: Fenris was making accommodations for her in his cabin. He was trying to include her in his private space. Not only that, but in borrowing a cushion from Piper, he must have told Piper that he and Rynne were together, even though it had only been one day.

Her heart felt like it was going to burst. She had to swallow hard to clear the lump of emotion in her throat. “Are you asking me to stay in your cabin with you?” she breathed.

He shrugged and trailed his fingers along her thigh. “Would you want to stay?”

His tone was even and neutral. It made his uncertainty all the more obvious, and Rynne was consumed by the sudden urge to bury his uncertainty so thoroughly that it would never rise again to haunt him.

She shifted closer to him and cradled his face in her hands. “Fenris, I fucking love you,” she said bluntly. “Of course I want to stay. Do you want me to stay?”

He took a deep breath, then met her gaze once more. “Yes,” he said. “I want you to stay.”

He’d never looked more serious, and Rynne was suddenly so happy she was afraid she might burst into tears.

She grinned at him instead. “Then I’m staying,” she said. “Of course I’m staying. In fact, maybe I’ll stay right here on your lap and never move.” She twined her arms tightly around his neck. “I’ll just stay wrapped around you like an octopus, or – what was that huge monstrous squid that Piper fought once?”

He snorted in amusement. “A kraken. But that is just one of her tall tales.”

“Not anymore,” Rynne said brightly. She shifted closer still until her bare chest was pressed to his, then wrapped her legs around his waist. “I’m a kraken now, and I’m going to hug you with all of my limbs and never let you go.”

He tucked his face against her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Good,” he mumbled.

She smiled and pressed her lips to his hair. As they sat snared in each other’s arms in the peaceful cocoon of Fenris’s bed, Rynne’s contented eyes landed on the two pillows on his bed – the practical white contrasted with the frivolous red – and she marvelled at how such an innocuous item could mean so much.

By inviting her to stay in his cabin, Fenris was ceding his private space: this place that he so often used to go to be alone. Bit by bit, he was giving Rynne his affectionate words and his affectionate embrace and his space, and every bit he chose to give her was a shining piece of trust.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the warm sleepy scent of his snowy hair. Fenris might not always be able to say the words that were in his heart, but in moments like this, Rynne didn’t need words. She had Fenris’s tight embrace, and she had his warm and easy breath against her neck.

And snugly tucked beneath his rumpled sheets, she had a pillow.

#fenris #fenris fic #where the winds of fortune take me #pirate au #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes #pikascout #fenris smut

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idk-my-aesthetic · 5 years

Text

“Heroes” of our story- family day rewrite

aka the mostly edited d1 fic that's been sitting in my drafts for way too long where mal yells at the “heroes” of auradon

****TW for implied/referenced child abuse and really really brief mention/reference to s*xual ass*ult

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

“Because of your mother my daughter was raised by fairies. Her first words, first steps, I missed it all.” Queen Leah gasped out, barely holding herself together. The Isle part of Mal laughed, she wouldn't have lasted an hour back home. But, Auradon had softened her, so she moved in closer, going to comfort the old woman.

“I’m so sor-”

Suddenly, Chad was there, blocking her from the woman and pushing her back. “Stay away from her!” He said, angry, like Mal was going to hurt some defenseless old woman.

She scowled at him, opening her mouth to defend herself, but before she could say anything Ben jumped forward, putting himself between her and the other boy.

“Don’t do this Chad.” Ben pleaded, acting as a wall between the larger boy and the VKs. Mal felt adrenaline spike in her veins, clenching her fists as she took in the situation around her. People from all across the lawn had stopped to gather and watch, and the other three, her crew, moved in behind her, ready to fight. We were supposed to be safe here. Why can’t we just be safe?

Chad scoffed at Ben, like what he asked was so ridiculous. “They were raised by their parents, Ben. What do you think villains teach their kids? Huh? Kindness? Fair play? No way, okay?”

Mal’s ears began to ring. Her instincts screamed out to her.

Take him down before he takes you down.

Run or fight run or fight do something before someone gets hurt.

Do whatever you need to, (maim, stab, kill, hurt) to survive.

But louder than the rest they called out to protect them.

Chad was a threat. They were surrounded by threats, backed into a corner by sheer numbers. She needed to do something, gain some sort of power, some sort of leverage, some sort of escape.

So, she laughed. Loud and calculated and cold and evil. And all the hero’s gazes turn to her, fear in their eyes.

(Though they don’t see the fear in her eyes. Or hear the fear in her laugh, see the fear in the way she held herself, fear in the knives she carried, fear that oozed out of her in a noxious cloud that they were only blind to by choice. Fear that rolled of Jay and Evie and Carlos and every other child on that godforsaken island, visible no matter how hard they tried to keep it in.)

The crowd stared at her, silenced by her outburst. Some glared with full hostility, some shrank away in fear. Ben turned to her, worried confusion broadcasted on his face.

She stepped forward, smiling, pushing him to the side. Not quite behind her, but out of the line of fire. Safe. Like the other three were, as long as she kept attention on herself. Like they would be if she could give them an opportunity to escape.

A gasp rang out at her movement, as if she’d hit him, not given a light push. She ignored it, everything put into her instinct to defend, zeroing in on the boy in front of her.

“You’re right, villains don’t teach love and kindness. They teach cruelty and hatred and revenge.“ She leaned in close, her smile manic. This wasn’t the Mal that came out in Aradon, the closest to the real her. It was the one that would face off against someone on the Isle, the almost feral version ready to do anything to survive and protect those she loved.

She tilted her head, eyes locked with Chad’s as the boy glared back. “And let me tell you, they are very hands on teachers.”

“What are you talking about?” Chad practically snarled at her, moving into her space. She smiled, a giggle passing her lips, mocking him.

“Everyone says you’re not the clearest glass slipper in the shoebox, but I always thought you were at least a bit smarter than that. Smart enough to try and manipulate Evie into doing your homework, but ya know, you’re a good guy, so cheating and manipulation is fine.” She laughed again as he jerked forward, held back by Audrey’s hand grabbing his arm. The girl gave Mal a wide eyed look over Chad’s shoulder, confusion broadcasted on her face. Mal couldn't meet her eyes.

“Well, since I guess I have to spell it out for you.” She taunted, voice too light, smile too wide, eyes too green. “Please tell me what you think happens when you put hundreds of angry bitter people who hurt others for fun on an island together, and then trap them there with no clean water, no fresh food, and only the literal trash from the people who stuck them there to sustain themselves. Do you think they’d be a little bit angry?”

“You can’t act like they didn’t deserve it-” A voice called out. Mal met their eyes, her gaze boring into thier’s, silencing them. She noticed idly that she was staring down was the Sultana of Agrabah, a special hatred in her heart for the woman. Jasmine opened her mouth to talk again, but Mal cut her off. She kept the queen’s gaze as she continued, still smiling.

“How do you think these people will get out their anger, hmm? Do you think they’ll suddenly take up coloring, or do you think they'll keep hurting people because it's all they’ve ever done? And who do you think they're going to hurt, exactly? The heroes are all gone, yes? And, well, they can try to attack the other villains, but that won’t work out all that well, since the other villains are grown adults just as violent and powerful as they are.” Jasmine’s face began to go slack, transitioning from anger to horrified understanding. Mal couldn't help the malicious spike of pleasure at her discomfort.

“So who are they going to hurt? There's no one weak enough, besides maybe some minions and others who didn’t really deserve to be on the isle, but there's not enough to go around, so the villains mostly stew in their anger and let it build up.” She shrugged, the forced grin growing on her face.

“Then, all of a sudden, there’s children running around!” Mal swept her gaze around, seeing more and more people are starting to understand, eyes going wide and faces falling. “Since, you know, the only medical shipments are held under a monopoly by Judge Claude Frollo's gang, and contraceptives are rarely sent anyway as they are seen as a ‘luxury’.” Even Chad had backed down at this point, staring at her in slack jawed horror. But she wasn't saying this to just him anymore, she was now speaking to everyone, every privileged prince and princess who left children to die.

“So, there’s kids running around, practically defenseless little creatures, as pure and innocent as the ones here despite our evil blood. And hey, free fucking target practice.” She finally let her false smile fall, settling into a defiant sneer. A quiet gasp ran through the crowd, horror at conformation of what she’d obviously been implying.

“If it’s your kid or just some rando on the street who was too stupid to walk around without a knife, then bam! Free punching bag. Or, ya know, perfect way to get rid of your other urges if your disgusting enough, which plenty of the adults on the Isle are.” She scowled, looking around at the crowd of ‘heros’ with cold eyes. They seemed shocked, horrified, some crying. A few look back at her with anger, likely in disbelief or offense at her ‘rudeness’. She made sure to hold those people's gaze a moment longer than others, forcing them to back down first.

At last, Mal zeros in on Audry’s grandmother's face, seeing the old woman pale and open mouthed with horror.

“So, I’m sorry if my mother's actions caused you pain. But I have no sympathy for any of you. Because missing your child’s first steps, or not seeing your mother for 16 years, god I wish my childhood was that easy. And I can tell you about a pretty good amount of other kids who agree with me.” She spun on her heel, using the unrest of the crowd, the power she now had over them, to escape. The others followed close behind her, harsh looks given as they left.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

a/n: not my best writing but ive wanted to post this for a little while lol.... i usually post on my ao3 but i may or may not use this as a scene in my d1 rewrite that's gonna be part of my keep them close series so i didn’t wanna post it there....

ty for reading please comment and rb!! please im desperate for validation and comments make me post more.... also check out my other descendants stuff maybe? please? i currently have a jay centric fic about his magic in the works, and a few things that i think are pretty ok posted lol......

#descendants #mal descendants #mal daughter of maleficent #jay descendants #jay son of jafar #evie daughter of the evil queen #evie descendants #carlos de vil #carlos descendants #ben descendants #ben son of belle and beast #mal x carlos x jay x evie #mal x carlos x jay x evie x ben #core four #core 4 #core five #core 5

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yayninjabob · 4 years

Text

Author Commentary

Ramblings from Yay Ninja Bob about her monstrous creation~

Besides working on my fic, I personally try to journal every day, and I realized that a lot of my journaling has become me pretty much rambling about the process of writing this damn fic lol. So I thought I'd share some of that for those who may want to know more behind my chapters from my author's perspective.

It's certainly not everything I can say, but it is a lot haha..

Chapter 1 - Thirteen

Behind the title:

Well, when I first began writing VillainR, I hadn't planned on having chapter titles at all. Mainly because coming up with chapter titles (or titles for stories in general) has always been something I struggle with personally. Anywho after I decided I wanted to challenge myself with chapter titles, I went back and named chapter 1 "Thirteen." Why? Well, it is the PpG's thirteenth birthday, of course there is that. VillainR as a whole is many things, but one major thing is it is a coming of age story for Buttercup/Joey/Jojo, as well as a story of self-discovery. There's a few important ages I wanted to cover and 13 is around the age where many kids start to "develop" and being a super-powered kid, Buttercup finally begins to develop her own "special power" at this age. I wanted this "growing pain" to be the catalyst for the events of Part One. So, I gave the chapter the title of "Thirteen" to try to highlight the significance of that age for Buttercup. The self-discovery made at this age is that special power (although they are unaware of it at this point). It's considered an unlucky number, and as it turns out, it is an unlucky year for our main character.

During the writing process:

First draft was written on Halloween night 2019 and pretty much all of it was completely scrapped haha.

I started writing it in first person, like the original Villain, in Buttercup's POV. I kept the events but approached it again in third person and liked it so much better that way. One major thing I wanted to improve on with the rewrite was character development which is pretty hard to achieve when writing in a limited POV of a character who eventually loses sight of much around them. I debated briefly on maybe doing alternating POVs between Blossom, Bubbles and Buttercup, but then I felt like it would still exclude a lot for other major characters like Mojo and Princess. I could add them too but I thought alternating too many POVs would be overwhelmingly difficult (for me as the author for sure but I imagine for the reader too) Third person seemed to be the best way to handle everything and really my only challenge with that was tweaking the whole "unreliable narrator" trope which I will be honest is my favorite trope ever. It is a challenge to try to recreate the same effect in third person, but I decided that a close third person was the best way to 1) tell a broader story and 2) still set limits on the reader's perspective, and control when and how I drop information and attempt to recreate a similar experience in an entirely new way I've never tried before heh. (I guess I will spend more time on this on my notes for Chapter 6)

Second draft I scribbled out in another few days with this new approach. It began at the start of the carnival and ended where it ends. Simultaneously I was reworking my overall outline for the fic and began to narrow down all the characters I wanted to be my key players for this epic. Once my outline was expanded to include everyone, I added the scene with Mojo and Him. For me, that's when I was like "Ayyy it's all coming together 👍👍" haha.

Another thing I wanted to improve on was setting and world-building. So final draft I decided to include some "history" behind Townsville and that's when I worked out the final draft.

This chapter definitely had the most trial and error during the writing process than any other chapter other than 5 so far.

Inspirations:

Townsville world-building/history - much of it is inspired by the city I grew up in (for the most part) which is Los Angeles. I mean it has all the sort of settings we've seen in the show which are all pretty diverse right? Townville had to have a diverse cityscape ranging from a busy downtown setting to quite suburbs to upperclass mansions, beaches, an island, forests, etc. Well I knew LA had all that and so I tried to re-imagine Townsville as basically an alternate universe LA lol. Monster Isle, I based on research I did on Catalina Island. I imagined the Utonium household was in a middle class neighborhood like Pasadena- close to the heart of LA but still a relatively "calmer" part of the city. Morbucks Manor would be in the Hills like Beverly Hills. Downtown was the heart of the city like Downtown LA. I debated briefly whether or not to have the Gangreen Gang be from an area modeled after South Central or East LA, but eventually I went with East LA because TBH I am just more familiar with it since that's where my mom's side is from and where I grew up early on in life. PLUS East LA actually has a pretty big punk scene so that fit the story too with Ace being in a punk band and all that.

1998 PpG Show References:

"Oh my gosh they have giant Bunny-Bunny's at the prize tent!"

(Super Zeroes)

Pop Culture References:

(OK most of my pop culture refs are just punk references lets be honest lol. Why Punk?? - because it is rebellion and rebellion is the heart of this fic)

The Clash - OK in original Villain I established that this was Buttercup's favorite band so I HAD to have that back for the redux. Here's all the refs I crammed into chapter 1 lol:

"Oh, Man! It's so hard to choose, like, I love literally everything by them. But I gotta say it's a tie probably between their first album and London Calling."

"Hell yeah. Jimmy Jazz is my jam."

youtube

"You know, my band does a cover of White Riot," Ace continued to talk music with the teenager as he lit his cigarette and took a deep drag. He held the smoke in his lungs as he continued, "Only we call our version Green Riot."

youtube

Blondie:

The one artist Buttercup had introduced Robin to that she instantly obsessed over was Blondie.

(Some) Symbolism:

- Blossom is 5'9" and Buttercup is 5'8" - Buttercup is always falling one step behind Blossom.

- Bumper Car scene - has some foreshadowing and well...

Blossom sat behind the wheel of a red bumper car at the opposite end of the metal floored rink. Buttercup crossed her arms in protest, "No way. I'm driving." she demanded.

Blossom also crossed her arms from where she sat behind the metal wheel. "So you can just rampage and crash into everybody here? No way." She fastened her seat belt with a quick snap and placed her hands firmly on the steering wheel again.

"Ugh. That's the whole point of bumper cars! It's to bump the other cars! You're supposed to try and bump everyone before the times up!"

"You always take it too far, Buttercup. I'm driving, so get in." The redhead grasped the steering wheel in her hands firmly, and refused to move.

And...

"You drive like an old lady," Buttercup shook her head in disbelief as her sister managed to avoid yet another collision.

"Well, that's your opinion," she shrugged off the insult, "Personally, I think it takes just as much skill to avoid every single car in here, as it does to hit every single car," she smiled at her sister.

And finally a brief allusion to the OG Villain lol...

"Blossom!" Buttercup shouted louder so she could get her sister's attention. She pointed at the fast approaching purple car that zoomed towards them from their right side. Behind the wheel of that car was Bubbles who wore a rather determined look on her face as Robin cheered for her.

Blossom saw, but by then it was too late. Bubbles and Robin's car slammed into Buttercup and Blossom's car at full force, spinning Buttercup and Blossom's car into the wall of the arena. The loud buzz which signified the end of the ride then sounded.

- the roller coaster is Buttercup's ideal carnival attraction; it's got the thrills, twists, turns, ups and downs. And makes Bubbles sick.

- the Ferris Wheel is Blossom's ideal carnival attraction; it's a staple of any fair, grand and big, overlooks everything, and traditionally romantic

YNB's favorite scene:

Personally, I loved writing the whole exchange between Buttercup and Blossom in the car. Establishing their rivalry, Buttercup's jealousy over Blossom's special power and heroism, Blossom's projection of her own insecurities, their differences, and their commonality.

Final thoughts on the chapter:

I was pretty satisfied with how it turned out but I did wait to post it until I had a decent headstart on chapter 2. I was pretty nervous about whether or not I could stay personally committed to writing this fic so I just wanted to make sure I was really feeling it first, lol. It had been so long since I'd written fanfic so I just needed to be sure.

When I outlined everything I estimated the chapter length to be around 6-7k words... And I was surprised that it was double that at about 12k. Which was wild because on my outline each opening chapter for Part 1, 2 and 3 were supposed to be shorter and more like preludes to everything else. Well, I guess they ARE shorter chapters but STILL definitely longer than any chapter I used to write for my multichaptered stories. At the time I thought "Ok obviously my writing has changed but surely I wont go much longer than 12k for future chapters...." Hurr hurr.

Personally, I was pretty proud of myself for spending so much time on it and rewriting it over and over and all that. In the past, TBH whatever was my first draft was pretty much also my last draft haha. I cranked out a chapter in one sitting usually and edited it mayyyybeee lol. I just wanted to get it posted so I could move on and get to that next point in the story. But I suppose now that I'm older and a bit more self aware, I realize a lot of my own anxieties manifest a lot in my writing though and I can recognize it in my old works like the OG Villain where I JUST WANNA GET TO WHAT I WANT TO WRITE RIGHT NOW OK?? I forced myself to slow the hell down this time, take it one scene at a time, and when things felt off I took breaks, slept on it for a few days and came back with new approaches or ideas. And so far that's how I continue to work on it.

Also, CHVRCHES. I listened to a ton of that band while working on this chapter especially.

#villainr #ppg fanfic #yayninjabob #behindthescenes #writing process #chapter 1 #let me know if you guys like this kinda stuff and I'll continue for the other chapters #commentary #author stuff

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totallytubulargirl · 5 years

Text

Aversion (Donatello X Reader)

Rating: R for rusty crusty and dusty (lmao also for the sex)

Universe: 2016

Who: Donatello x Reader (oneshot)

Age of the TMNT: 19

Authors note: Hi! I have lots of stuff done but have been feeling really insecure about my writing so I haven’t posted any of it, sorry ! This was steamy to write also thanks to everyone in the discord chat for taking a look at the rough draft :P You can DM me for an invite link! Also I’m messing with the text to see if it adds to the reading experience, let me know (:

Summary: You seek refuge from the heat above ground but find the same heat between you and Donatello underground. He’s afraid to hurt you but wants to make love to you so badly, how will you relieve the tension?

It was a hot summer day, the ground was sticky and the earth seemed to be radiating heat from the skies and beneath the dirt. The city was the meat in between, compressed into a heat sandwich. [Y/N] hated to be out and about in the concrete jungle that was New York City with this kind of weather but she was seeking refuge, where she knew it might be cooler. She walked into an almost empty alley, skirt still against her thighs as sweat beaded down her neck onto her chest. She panted heavily as she removed the heavy metal plate that lay on top of the manholes. An old man stood at the back door of his small apartment watching the girl climb into the sewers, but it was too hot for him to care and too bizarre a sight for him to even know if it was real, or just an illusion that came and went with the heat. She climbed down the damp steel ladder, and almost immediately felt better. There was a light next to her, but the rest of the sewer was cold and dark. A good sign; usually lights meant sewer maintenance people with questions. She ignored the awful smell and stood a moment to catch her breath. Her lungs filled with the cool air and she felt better. She stood on a platform, looking around, just above the running stream of gross things. God I hate the dark, she thought.

“Boo!” Yelled Michelangelo, pouncing on her from the shadows. She screamed, punching his chest in self-defense, before she knew what she was doing.

“Ow!” She yelped. His plastron felt like rock and her small knuckles were no match.

“Are you ok!?” He covered his mouth with both hands, a little out of shock but mostly so he wouldn’t laugh out loud at her misery. She rubbed her knuckles and whimpered, although her ego was more bruised then her hand.

“Mikey!” She scolded, “what are you doing here?” He giggled a little before composing himself.

“I was riding my skateboard down here when I saw someone coming down,” he explained. “Sorry.” She smacked his arm lightly and he lost his composure, breaking into laughter once again,

“Oh whatever, you are not sorry,” another whimper escaped her thin lips. Michelangelo was still stifling laughter.

“Let me walk you to our place to make up for it,” he grinned. She intertwined her arm with his,

“Well it would only be fair,” she looked at him content in making him suffer by taking the long walk back. He slid his skateboard onto his shell, clicking on a light attached to his side, so they could see where they were going.

“So is it getting hot up there?” He casually asked.

“Unbearable,” she gasped, grateful to be underground where the air didn’t seem as thick.

“I’ve heard things are getting pretty hot down here too,” Mikey teased and she rolled her eyes. She knew he was referring to her and Donatello. She was glad for the darkness lest Mikey see her cheeks giving away her embarrassment.

“I mean hot enough,” she bit her lip nervously. It wasn’t that there wasn’t anything going on. “I know we’ve been dating forever,” she sighed, unable to explain it to Mikey. “But it’s really not like that.”

“Why not?” Mikey asked, kicking rocks at his feet as they walked, not really paying attention. She took a deep breath in preparation of the emotionally exhausting mess she was about to dump on Michelangelo.

“It’s not like we haven’t done stuff,” she looked down at her flip flops scraping against the damp cement in the dim light of the sewer. “We do lots of stuff,” she sighed hesitantly. “Just not it.”

“Oh, I know,” Mikey giggled, focusing on his rocks. “Donatello talks about it all the time,” he glanced at her for a second before losing focus again. “Trust me, he really wants to do it,” he said bluntly. Michelangelo was never one to keep secrets. She blushed but needed to know more. [Y/N] could hear her own heart pulsating loudly in her ears, she wondered if Mikey could hear it.

“I’m the one who keeps-“ she cut herself off before looking around, hoping no one else even had the chance of hearing her. “I’m basically begging him to sleep with me at this point,” she whispered. Mikey burst out laughing. “You’re rude!” She let go of his arm and smacked it.

“No,” he stopped, bending over to laugh. “I just-“ he wiped a tear from his eye. “You beg Donnie for sex?” He questioned her. She felt so embarrassed, hating to repeat it,

“Yeah so?”

“The thought of you begging anyone is ridiculous,” he couldn’t help it. “But especially Donnie?” He wiped a tear from his eye. “He’s such a dork!” He exclaimed, “I would betray my brother and have sex with you right now,” he chuckled, “and I still think it would be worth it.” She laughed, knowing that he was just trying to cheer her up.

“He’s just afraid of hurting me,” she said as politely as she could. Donatello was afraid that he would be too eager too soon, that she would never be able to handle a being of his size, and he would never be able to control himself. Mikey laughed some more,

“You should see Raphael!” She laughed, knowing that Mikey was just trying to get her to smile, or was he? She shook the thought from her head as they finally approached the entrance of the lair. “Listen,” he said, with steady eyes. “I know Donnie can be weird but you should remember,” Mikey crouched down and finally picked up the rocks he had been kicking down the sewer the whole way home. He suddenly took on Master Splinter's accent, “In matters of style, swim with the current,” he let a couple of stones go with the stream that ran at her feet. “But in matters of principle, stand like a rock.” He placed the heaviest rock in the water and she watched the stream run over it, but it sat, unwavering.

“Damn, Michelangelo!” She exclaimed, impressed with the wisdom he was able to convey. He laughed, suddenly himself again.

”Wait, what just happened?” He pointed to the inside of their home before she could say anything else, “pizza?”

“Actually,” she walked in, seeing Raphael and Leonardo sitting at the table right away. “Hi guys, I’m just going to go see Donatello.” She waved to the three boys and walked towards his lab, where she assumed he would be. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up and her toes instinctively curl in her shoes and she stopped in her tracks. What would she even say to him? She wanted him, she wanted him so bad she could practically jump out of the clothes she was standing in. She took a deep breath in order to slow her heartbeat down. She didn’t know what she would do or say when she saw him, all she was sure of was what she wanted from him. She forced open the rusted door that seperated Donatello from the world, the one that always kept him in his lab for so long. [Y/N] could hear soft muffles coming from somewhere in the darkened room. She stepped in as Donatello fumbled off of his chair, things crashing onto the floor around him, “Donnie!” She reached for him but he stood up, his shell turned to her. The door shut behind her and a table lamp lit the room poorly.

“Uh- I didn’t-” she could see him buttoning up his pants up and looked to his screen only to see a picture she had sent him of her in the bath earlier in the week.

“Donatello!” She exclaimed when she realized what he was doing. “This is crazy!” She approached him. He turned towards her, unable to make eye contact. “I’m here for you,” she blushed. “I can be what you want me to be.” She could feel tears burning behind her eyes but she refused to cry in front of him, especially because of this. She crossed her arms. Michelangelo was right, she shouldn’t have to beg anyone for anything.

“You’re everything i’ve ever wanted,” he said softly, still staring at the ground. “That’s the problem.” She took a step towards him.

“But Donnie,” she cooed. He knew what that voice mean as it had led to so many things before. He stepped back and fell onto his chair. She reluctantly sat on top of him, reaching into his already unbuttoned pants, gripping him at the base of his cock, and running her palms along his shaft. Her hands were damp but it came in handy. “I want you so bad.” He could feel the heat in her breath against his mouth. Donnie was afraid but he wanted her too,

“I want you too but-“ Donatello could almost fall for the hypnotizing way her hair swirled up and around his shoulder. He shook his head but even that wouldn’t clear away his thoughts, “I can’t,” he gasped as the tip of his cock poked through her hands again and again. “We can’t,” he balled his fists and his toes curled. “It’s a physical-” his head spun. “It’s a physical-“ She went for his neck dragging her tongue up his jawline as her hands went faster and faster,

“Please Donnie.” She whimpered and his heart swelled with need. She just wanted to try; he leaned back allowing her to spread her legs wide over his lap. Her pink skirt gave way against her thighs but her panties were stuck around her knees.

“Here let me just-” Donnie fidgeted with her panties before deciding it was ruining the mood and just ripped them off, “there.”

“Fuck.” She tried to hold back but she couldn’t help it.

“Sorry,” he feigned but could see the thrill in her eyes as she giggled slightly. Donatello softly took a hold of her chin, looking her in the eyes. “You’re sexy.” He smirked, driving her crazy all over again. She kissed him, slowly dropping herself onto his cock. She could feel his width at her opening and she could already tell he was way bigger than anyone she’d ever had before. With a slight buck of his hips, he broke her threshold.

“Oh fuck!” She couldn’t help it. She dug her nails into his firm biceps, grateful for the scaly armor that kept him from bleeding. His girth pulsed inside of her, pushing her to her limits, but it felt oh so good. She could feel his liquid against her walls, paving the way, melting like warm butter between them. She got halfway down his dick before she lifted herself up and down a few times for relief. She could feel Donnie tighten his grip around her,

“Am I hurting you?” He groaned, genuinely concerned but unable to put many coherent thoughts together. She bit her lip,

“No it feels-,” she let out a moan. “It feels really good.” She said, her face flush with desire. Donatello’s heart swelled with courage and he dared to push a little deeper into her, she slowed her hips down again and rolled into him, taking in all of him. She could feel a slight twang of pain but every other nerve in her body sang of ecstasy, “Don I think I’m gonna-” she raised her hips up and down again making him curse softly. “I’m going to orgasm Donnie.” She whined, trying to keep the rhythm of her hips slow but failing. He wrapped his large hands around her plump ass, grabbing a handful and helping her lift up and down faster and faster, “oh fuck.” She moaned, getting louder. Donatello could feel a warmth balling at the center of his body, “Shit!” She yelled as sweat melded the two into one, bodies entwined with each other and arms wrapped around one another. The heat she had been so desperate to escape manifested itself in her body. Donnie felt an explosion coming from within, as [Y/N] screamed her orgasm into the night. “OAH FUCK DONNNIIIIEE!”

He groaned as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, cum springing from him like a fountain into her warm pussy. He slipped out of her and she slumped against him, panting. She sat with, wrapped in his arms until their breathing matched in rhythm. [Y/N] closed her eyes, laying her head against his plastron as he played with her hair. She felt warm and safe in his arms,

“I love you Donnie.” She said quietly.

“I love you too, darling.”

#tmnt #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #tmnt 2016 #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donnie #tmnt mikey #tmnt fanfic #tmnt x reader

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conretewings · 5 years

Text

No Place For Kids

****Ok, so I thought I posted this forever ago (like, over a year) but I just found it sitting in my drafts and when I went to check my archive...it wasn’t there? I don’t know if I overlooked it or what happened, but here? Enjoy this short Guzma-centric fic)****

A deathly quiet had fallen over the room, the only sounds now coming from the constant, distant drum of rain on the roof and the noise of grunts in other parts of the mansion. Guzma leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared hard at the nervous-looking young boy in front of him.

“What did you just say, kid?”

The boy swallowed and dared to meet his piercing gray eyes for just a moment before looking back down, “I-I want to j-join Team Skull.”

Guzma abruptly stood from his chair and in two strides was standing over him, the boy gasping and stumbling back a step.

With a mirthless laugh he barked, “Tch! You’re scared to even be near me! You should be, but if yer gonna run with us ya gotta be at least tough enough to look me in the face…” he glared down at the boy, who’s eyes were glued to the floor and frowned, “Look at me.”

Slowly, trembling the whole time, he raised his head and held Guzma’s gaze, who regarded him critically before reaching out a hand. Instantly the boy yelped and threw up his arms to shield his face and neck.

Startled, Guzma yanked his arm back before snapping, “Yo! Calm the fuck down! I ain’t gonna hit a kid! What the hell-”

He froze as the realization started to creep in; the young man’s stance, half-curled up and trying to protect himself as much as possible, shaking and waiting for the blow’s to come…he knew this scene far too well. He took a couple steps away and lowered his voice a bit.

“Hey kid. What’s your name? And for fuck’s sake how old are you? Y’aint even up to my chest.”

Slowly, the boy stood up again and met his eyes with a bit more confidence, “I’m Arin, and I’m twelve.”

Guzma felt his eye twitch as the rage began to bubble up. Stalking past Arin, he threw open his door and bellowed, “PLUMERIA!!”

A few moments later he heard her voice from downstairs, “What?”

“GET YOUR ASS UP HERE NOW!”

It only took a minute for her to reach his room, which she entered casually as he slammed the door behind her before looming over her and jabbing a finger in Arin’s direction.

“What the fuck is a twelve year-old doing here?! Who let him in and how did he get past you?!” he spat furiously.

Plumeria crossed her arms, unfazed by his attempts at intimidating her and pointedly ignoring it, “He didn’t. I told him to go talk to you.”

“What the fuck Plumes?! He’s twelve! Freakin’ TWELVE! This is a gang not a daycare! We ain’t got no room for brats barely outta diapers what the hell were you thinkin’?!”

“Look G,” she sighed, holding up her hands “He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wouldn’t listen to me, or Tony, or Kaleb, or Annette, or anyone. I finally figured he might listen to you. Or, at least you could scare him off.”

Guzma whipped his head toward Arin, “That true, kid?”

He nodded, “Everyone kept telling me no, b-but I really wanted to, so…Plumeria, right? She told me that if I wanted in that bad I had to talk to you.”

Guzma slapped a hand over his face and grumbled a string of muffled obscenities while stalking back to his chair and grabbing a half-empty bottle from it’s base. Flopping back down, he drained part of it in one long swallow before glaring at Arin again.

“No. That’s my final say. Now git. If ya can’t remember where the door is, Plumes’ll be happy to kick you out it.”

Arin drew a deep, shaky breath before standing up straight and doing his best glare back at Guzma with a surprising amount of ferocity, “I’m not leaving.”

“Yes you are ya little shit-stain now get outta my face. Go home. This ain’t no place for kids.”

Arin dropped his gaze again, “…I can’t go home.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“It means I can’t go home.”

Guzma slammed his fist on his chair, “Listen, smartass! I will personally throw ya out the nearest window if ya keep it up. Now whattaya mean?”

“It means I can’t go home! I won’t!” the boy was yelling now and holding his head, “I’m not going back to hearing how much of a failure and a retard I am, to being either ignored or screamed at, to-to getting beat whenever I breathe the wrong way!”

That tense quiet settled over the room again, and Plumeria caught Guzma’s gaze, giving him a knowing look as she noticed his pained, livid expression.

Drawing a deep breath, Arin glanced at them both before explaining, “My dad’s always been…hard on me. But when I failed my Island Challenge, things got really awful. I can’t leave my room most of the time and when I do it gets…bad. I…” he swiped a hand across his eyes before squaring his shoulders and raising a fist, “I want to re-take it! I’m stronger now, and I know I could do it. But my folks keep telling me not to bother, that I’ll just screw up again! But I won’t! And-and that’s why I need to join you! To get even more strong so I can win and show everyone who doubted me that I’m not worthless!”

For just a moment, Arin vanished, and Guzma saw himself in the boy’s place; young, angry, disheartened, beaten down but still determined to come out ahead. His eyes flicked to Plumeria, who’s own were with clouded with uncertainty and pity.

She stepped over to Guzma, bending so she could talk quietly into his ear, “G, I know what you’re thinking. This kid is goin’ through some serious shit, but there ain’t no way he’s got any place here. I don’t know what to do. We can’t just send him back to that...”

“We ain’t gonna. I have an idea.” he murmured, giving her hand a quick squeeze.

He stood again, approached Arin and knelt down so they were eye-to-eye. There was nothing he could do for his past self, but maybe he could help this boy in the present.

“Look. Yer not joinin’ us. I meant what I said, this ain’t no place for kids,” he noted how Arin glowered at his feet and clenched his fists, “Ya wanna know why else? ‘Cause you still have a chance. All of us? This is it. This is rock bottom and there ain’t no place to go from that. You? You still got a shot at makin’ somethin’ of yourself. I saw how passionate ya were just then, talkin’ about your dream of completin’ your Island Challenge. Don’t let that kind of spunk and determination flicker out.”

Slowly, Arin looked up at him, his face twisted with despair and anger but touched with surprise at Guzma’s words, “I don’t have anyplace to go, and I am not going home.”

“Yeah, yeah I know. I can’t do anything else to help ya, but I know someone who can.”

-Nanu craned his neck from his spot on his couch to look at his suddenly ringing phone. A couple Meowth looked up in vague interest before going back to grooming or napping. Finally, when he realized it was just going to keep ringing if he didn’t deal with it, he groaned and hauled himself to his feet, absently setting his coffee mug on a nearby desk and picking up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Hey. I uh…I got a favor I need to ask.”

Nanu sighed, “Nice to talk to you too, Guzma. If you’re in jail again I’m not helping.”

“Oh-eat my ass, old man!”

“No thanks, and if you’re looking for a favor, talking to me like that isn’t helping.”

“….The favor ain’t for me.”

-It was nearly a month later when Guzma half-walked, half-stumbled down the road, managing to hold bottles in each hand as he sang loudly and made his way to Nanu’s place.

Reaching the door he leaned against the frame and used his knee to ‘knock’. “Heeeey ya crazy old cat man! It’s ya boy! Lemme in I got beer!”

The door opened and Nanu looked him up and down with his usual tired, morose expression. Guzma’s hair was a complete disaster, covered in glitter and what appeared to be Silly String. A huge, lop-sided grin was plastered on his face as he slumped against the door.

“’Sup?” he slurred.

Nanu sighed, “I’m pretty sure I could hear you guys all the way from here. Well, come in.”

He stepped aside and allowed Guzma to stagger in and flop onto the couch, displacing several hissing Meowth in his wake. Still chuckling, he held up one of the bottles he had.

“Didn’t feel right leavin’ you outta the party so I thought I’d come down and share. C’mon! Have a beer with me! It’s the good stuff!”

Nanu considred the offered bottle for a moment before saying, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for a police officer to accept stolen goods.”

Guzma looked almost offended, “Yo! I just got paid, and bought these fair and square! I swear!” then his face lit up again, “Heh heh, that rhymed! Even drunk I still got it!”

Nanu’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly; he knew full well where that ‘pay’ had come from, and made a mental note to check up with his contacts within Aether later. For now, he had to admit a beer sounded refreshing, and the fact that it was coming from that woman’s dime made it sound even sweeter.

At last, he shrugged and took it, sitting down next to the gang leader. “Thanks.”

“Eeeyyyyy! There ya go!” crowed Guzma, “Heh, we haven’t had a beer together in ages! A toast! To uh…” he scratched his chin, absently picking some Silly String from his scruff, “To…shit. I had somethin’…”

“How about to your friend, Arin?” Nanu suggested.

“Who? Ain’t none of my crew named Arin.”

“I mean the boy you called in a 'favor’ about a while back.”

Guzma paused with his bottle halfway to his mouth, the realization creeping into his expression. Slowly lowering it, he stared at Nanu briefly before leaning back and turning his gaze to the nearest window, his smirk slowly fading. After a moment he asked, "How’d the little dude make out?"

“Technically I’m not really supposed to discuss these kinds of cases, but considering you’re quite drunk I trust you’re not going to go blabbing it anyway-if you remember anything,” he ignored Guzma’s muttered curses and began to explain, “Child Services was sent to the house and well...you were right. Arin was definitely being abused.”

“I fucking KNEW IT!” snarled Guzma, hurling his empty bottle so hard it cracked into several pieces upon impact with the wall, “The way he acted, the shit he said-fuck,” he whirled toward Nanu, his eyes ablaze, “Please tell me-”

Nanu calmly held up a hand, “It was dealt with. Arin is now living with relatives on another island, and his father is not allowed to see him. I checked in about a week ago, and he’s doing very well. He plans on re-taking his Island Challenge soon.”

Guzma let out a long, deep sigh. His shoulders relaxed and he stood, slowly pacing around the small building, hands shoved in his pockets. He couldn’t help but think; what if someone had noticed his situation? He glanced down at the heavy gold chain around his neck, and suddenly it felt a lot heavier. If things had turned out differently, would he still be wearing this? Standing here? He shook his head, stuffing the darkness back down as he always did. Nanu waited patiently until he turned back to him and spoke.

“Yo. Thanks, old man.”

Nanu shrugged casually, secretly enjoying hearing the sincere gratitude, “He’s a good kid. He’ll be alright...” he paused, unsure if he should open this can of worms but deciding it was probably okay in the man’s current state, “I just wish that someone had done the same for you.”

Instantly, the mood in the room changed. Guzma froze, whipping his head toward him, eyes wide, his face an unnerving cross between alarmed and furious, “What’s that mean huh? The fuck does that mean?”

Nanu squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, realizing he’d messed up but knowing there was no backing out, “It means I wish someone had spoken up on your behalf when you were younger and had to go through what Arin has...who knows? Maybe you would-”

“WHO THE FUCK TOLD YOU THAT?!” Guzma exploded so loudly all the the Meowth laying around yowled and scrambled over each other to run out the door, “THAT SHIT AIN’T NO ONE’S FUCKIN’ BUSINESS! I swear when I find the-”

“You did.”

Breathing heavily, fists clenched as if ready to fight an enemy who wasn’t there, or the phantoms of his nightmares, Guzma asked, “What?”

Nanu repeated himself, “You did. I don’t think you realize just how much you talk when you’re drunk. One night, kind of like this one, you came down here and told me all about your life growing up. You talked for what had to have been a couple hours before you passed out on the couch. When I got up you were still sleeping, so I left you some coffee before I took off.”

Guzma was now sitting again, hunched over and hands clenched in his hair, “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck...I don’t remember tellin’ ya any a’ that...”

“Of course not. You were so hammered I doubt you would.”

He looked up, glaring furiously at the older man, “Ya didn’t repeat none of it right? “Cause I don’t need no one pryin’ into my shit or feelin’ sorry for me.”

“I didn’t. Frankly, what good would it do? You’ve already made yourself the most hated person in Alola. A tragic backstory wouldn’t make people despise you any less.”

Guzma smirked at that, “Heh, guess I have. What about you, old man? Do you despise me too?”

“No,” answered Nanu without hesitation, “You’re a pain in my ass sometimes but I don’t hate you.”

Chin resting in his hands, Guzma regarded him curiously. Though he was still quite hammered, he could tell Nanu was sincere with his words, a notion that both comforted but also greatly confused him; why would anyone not hate him? He could also feel the buzz beginning to wear off and realized he should be getting back before he ended up passing out on the couch again, or worse, blabbing any more about his youth. On the other hand, Nanu didn’t seem to care all that much that he had. Maybe he had found someone he could...

He squeezed his eyes shut. No.

Standing, he put on the biggest, most confident grin he could and gestured to the other two bottles he had brought, “Well, I better get home. Can’t leave the kids too long, ya know? They’ll rip the place apart, worse than it already is. Thanks for havin’ a beer with me.You can keep those. They’re on the house,” his smile faltered for just a second, “And uh, thanks for letting me know Arin’s okay. I’ll keep it to myself if ya keep the shit I said quiet, cool?”

Nanu nodded, “Of course.”

Guzma absently scratched at his neck, “That’s that I guess. Later, old man.”

“Yeah. Later.”

As he passed through the door, he heard Nanu say behind him, “Take care.” Before he could say thanks, it was followed with, “And sober up for Arceus sake.”

“Oh, bite me!” Guzma huffed, nearly slamming the door.

Nanu grinned smugly, gently scratching the Meowth that had come back and jumped into his lap.

#guzma #team skull #fanfiction #pokemon #pokemon sun and moon #pokemon sumo #nanu #plumeria

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

Text

The Fine Art of Going Viral

Listen, hockey children are my greatest weakness. Cute hockey children who do not know how to actually skate are, somehow, even worse. Better? It doesn’t matter. Several different people sent me this video (heyo @optomisticgirl @shireness-says and @peglegsjones and...my husband) and @distant-rose listened to me plot this and I wrote 4.5 K of Matt Jones mic’ing up his younger brother at practice and turning him into a social media sensation. Emma and Killian are not pleased.

The Rangers keep losing in OT and it’s going to ruin our draft pick, so I’m going to keep writing hockey fic to make myself feel better.

“Let me get this straight, you mic’ed up your brother?”

Matt didn’t answer, which was, honestly, even more of an answer than actually responding to the question and Killian was only a little frustrated that he was kind of impressed by the whole thing.

“While he was at practice?”

More silence.

Killian lifted his eyebrows, a move that usually worked better than it had in the last five minutes of, mostly, one-sided conversation and the video was everywhere. It had thousand of hits and even more retweets and reblogs and Emma had already seen it picked up by several different news outlets and more than one Rangers blog.

David had sent him a link.

He hadn’t actually watched it yet.

“Matthew. I asked you a question, kid.”

“Yeah, I know,” Matt mumbled, the words barely that when he didn’t actually open his mouth very wide. “And I mean…we did it before practice. Technically.”

Gravity made sure Killian couldn’t shift his eyebrows anymore, but his mind latched onto we and it didn’t really surprise him that this was a group effort. The whole lot of them – next-gen Rangers as the tabs liked to proclaim them when they made it in the tabs and they’d all done a very good job of trying to keep them out of the tabs as much as possible – were impossibly close, even if they weren’t all that close in age.

Killian was dimly aware of a group text that was almost constantly dinging, updates and plans and he had been a little worried that Matt and Peggy’s phones were going to explode when Roland set up that game-winner in overtime earlier in the week.

He should have expected that Matt had cohorts.

He just needed to figure out who.

“How?”

“What do you mean how?”

“I mean, how, Matthew,” Killian said, hooking his foot around the nearest chair in the kitchen and crooking his finger. “Get off the counter.”

Matt sighed – although if that was from the demand to get off the counter or the use of his full name again, Killian wasn’t entirely sure. As it were though, he was mostly focused on figuring out where his oldest kid had gotten enough video equipment to tape his youngest kid at hockey practice and how his middle kid inevitably fit into all of it.

And possibly Roland Locksley.

Or Lizzie Vankald-Jones.

He was fairly sure Henry didn’t have anything to do with it.

That was why they let him take Chris to practice. And pick Matt up from school. He was responsible. An adult. Some kind of quasi-cousin, almost-uncle, thing. He was, at least, some type of authority figure.

He wouldn’t have gone along with this.

“Now,” Killian said, voice low and decidedly paternal when Matt didn’t move quickly enough. He huffed, sliding off the counter with more drama than a thirteen-year-old should have possessed and his eyes widened when he heard the footsteps coming around the corner. “You might want to sit down,” Killian suggested, nodding towards the chair on the other side of the table as Emma moved into the kitchen with a phone in her hand. “This could take awhile.”

Matt winced.

“Mom—“ He started, shifting his weight between his feet and waving his arms slightly and his eyes still hadn’t returned to their correct size yet.

Emma shook her head. Matt’s jaw snapped shut almost audibly. “Where’d you get the microphone?” she asked, stopping next to Killian and he didn’t think she tried to lean into his hand when it moved to the small of her back, but it happened anyway and that was kind of nice.

Matt flushed.

“Matthew,” Killian muttered, working another disgruntled groan out of his kid and a soft laugh out of his wife. HIs eyes flickered up towards hers, a smile tugging at the end of her mouth. “Answers, kid.”

“It’s really not bad. It was just...well, we thought it’d be kind of funny. Did you—did you watch the video?”

“How’d you get the microphone, Matthew David?”

He’d never actually sat down, so it was incredible when Matt’s whole body seemed to just fold into itself, slumped shoulders and hanging arms and Killian was fairly positive his hair actually got longer, just so it could fall across his forehead. “You’re going to get mad.”

“We’re already a little mad,” Killian said, and it could not have been good for Matt’s teeth if he kept clacking them like that. The video was already all over the internet. “Chris is four. He should not be on the internet.”

Something, something gone viral or some other phrase that was absolutely horrible and disgusting-sounding and the whole video had lasted for nearly five minutes. They must have edited it, somehow.

God, he was really getting frustrated with how impressive the whole operation was.

“But—“

Killian shook his head deftly, Emma hissing when his fingers gripped hers too tightly and he mumbled a quick apology into the bend of her elbow. “I just—I don’t understand what would even go through your mind to do this,” Emma said. “And, seriously, how.”

Matt’s neck appeared to have given up on trying to support his head. “You keep asking the same question.”

“That’s because you’re doing a very good job of avoiding answering it.”

“If I say media training are you going to ground me?”

“Oh, you’re going to get grounded no matter what you say,” Killian muttered, Matt’s face paling slightly. “But if you want to dig yourself into an even deeper hole by making poorly-timed jokes, be my guest.”

Matt yanked his lips behind his teeth, eyes falling to his feet and Killian was fairly certain he heard him mumbled captain voice under his breath. It was difficult to hear when his shoulders were so slumped, though.

“So,” Killian continued, “it’d probably be in your best interest at this point to tell us several things. Why you did what you did. Why you thought it was even remotely a good idea after Mom and I have spent half a lifetime trying to keep you guys off the internet—“

“—Ru already yelled at me for that.”

“God, when did she find time for that?” Emma mumbled, half to herself and the scope of this entire project was drifting dangerously close to epic. “How are we coming in second in the disciplining our kid race?”

Killian’s laugh lacked a distinct bit of humor – mostly because he couldn’t get the phrase viral video out of his head. “Nothing about this entire thing makes any sense, that’s why. Lucas didn’t tell me about it yet.”

“Probably because she was too busy chastising Matt.”

“Well, all her hard work about media training-related jokes has clearly been for naught.”

Matt hadn’t gotten much of the color back in his cheeks yet, but there were bits of pink on his skin and he had one eye squeezed shut when he lifted his head up. There wasn’t an actual word for whatever noise it made. It sounded uncomfortable, like it was scratching at the sides of his throat. “And she’s really mad at Rol,” he mumbled, Emma’s shoulders rolling back quickly like she’d been shocked.

Killian was very glad he was sitting down.

They should have made some kind of flow chart for all of this. And named it Kids are the Worst or something.

“Oh my God, what does Roland have to do with it?”

“He’s the one that posted it. More followers.”

Killian cursed, Emma rolling her whole head back so she could stare at the ceiling like that would help. “Of course, of course,” she grumbled, starting to pace a small semi-circle and glancing at Killian. “Should we be getting updates from Roland Lockley’s social media pages?”

He rolled his eyes. “If that’s what it comes to, then I think we’ve crossed a line we can’t retreat from, love. I’ll give you very good odds that he’s getting glared at by Gina now, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a very good point.”

Matt was silent again.

“Ok,” Killian sighed, dragging his hand across his face. Matt hadn’t blinked in hours. “You’ve still got questions to answer, kid. And how did you get Chris to agree to it? I’m very curious about that.”

“Incredibly,” Emma amended. She moved half an inch to her right, letting his fingers tug lightly on the back of her shirt and Matt made a noise that was distinctly un-human when she perched on Killian’s thigh.

He hooked his chin over her shoulder.

“That’s not even fair,” Matt grumbled. “You’re double-teaming me.”

Killian didn’t have to see Emma’s smile to know it was there. “Must be because you’re such a scoring threat. Dad’s going to keep using your full name if you don’t tell us the truth, kid. Who got the microphone? Roland’s on the road, so…Dylan? Lizzie…somehow? Leo? Was it Leo?”

“Mom, Leo is eleven. That’s like asking if it was Mar.”

“Was it your sister?” Killian asked.

“Henry,” Matt mumbled.

Emma nearly fell off Killian’s leg. He tightened his arm. “No!”

“Swan,” Killian muttered, a soft reprimand because they were being authorities and he wasn’t all that pleased he was wrong. He hadn’t actually watched the video yet.

Emma clicked her tongue, the ends of her hair brushing over his cheek when she rolled her head. “Ok, ok, I’m—just, honestly, Henry? Really?”

Matt nodded seriously, suddenly looking a bit more confident than he had now that he’d given up a 27-year-old for getting sound equipment to mic up Chris during hockey practice. Chris was four. Chris could not really skate.

It was probably a fairly hysterical video.

“Henry,” Matt promised. “He—I don’t know, he knows someone who works somewhere and it was—you’ve really got to watch the video. C is—he’s so bad at skating. And he talks all the time.”

“Matthew.”

“It’s true!”

Killian narrowed his eyes. “Did you take the video?”

“No.”

He couldn’t wave his hands when he was trying to keep Emma from falling onto the kitchen floor and Matt couldn’t seem to stop moving and the whole thing had dissolved into farce much quicker than Killian expected it to. They should have brought Peggy into the kitchen too.

Maybe Chris.

Chris really was not the best skater in the world.

“Matthew.”

“Ok, that part was actually Leo, but that’s only because he’s got really good hand-eye coordination and he could hold his arm steadier than me and—” He cut himself off when he noticed the look on Killian’s face. And, presumably, Emma’s face. She was better at the face thing than him. “He met us at the rink.”

Killian had no idea what to do with that.

“Leo Nolan, who, as previously discussed, is eleven years old met you at Chelsea Piers because you what? Asked him to help film your brother on the ice? Why?”

Matt blinked, eyes darting between Emma and Killian more than once. “I just…I just explained. His arm is better, but don’t tell him that, he never shuts up about it anyway.”

“That’s not an answer, Matthew David.”

Emma groaned, letting her head fall back until her hair was everywhere. Killian didn’t tell her to move. He was too busy trying to temper his frustration and control his breathing and—

“We spent a very long time trying to make sure you guys didn’t get headlines. Tried to keep you out of the spotlight and that’s obviously going to change some now with you playing, but Chris isn’t there yet. He’s a little kid, Matthew. He gets what you got. He gets to be…” Killian bit his tongue when he tried to say the word normal because it had never really been normal, road trips and tabloid-invented nicknames and Roland Locksley was setting up game-winning goals in OT now, so the headlines seemed inevitable, but none of them had ever gone viral before and he assumed Mary Margaret had not appreciated her eleven-year-old kid taking the 7-line crosstown to get to the Piers.

Some of the texts he’d been ignoring on his phone were probably from her.

And David.

“Your brother is four,” Killian repeated, voice dropping low and fingers curling around Emma’s hip. “What was the point, Matthew? To play him as a joke? He shouldn’t be the best skater in the world yet.”

Matt got paler. That was, honestly, also impressive. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows furrowed and he almost had the gall to look annoyed, which was actually more surprising than the Henry thing or the fact that this had been a group effort and his eyes were barely more than slits when he looked at Killian.

He looked exactly like Killian.

A few seconds before checking someone.

“I wouldn’t ever do that to C,” Matt whispered, but with an intensity that left little room for doubt even from a slightly angst-filled teenager who turned his younger brother into an online sensation. “Never.”

Killian tilted his head – and he couldn’t actually glance at Emma when she was still sitting on his leg, but he felt her tense and they both knew that voice. That wasn’t a lie.

“I wouldn’t,” Matt repeated. “Not to C. And it wasn’t—it wasn’t a joke, it was—you really should watch the video, Dad.”

Killian opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but his head snapped to the sound at the front door and the slightly nervous knock and it had only been a matter of time. Emma’s shoulders shook when she laughed.

“It’s open, Henry,” she called, not bothering to look away from Matt and it took a few seconds for the footsteps to make their way into the kitchen.

He’d taken his shoes off.

“Hey,” Henry said, dragging out the word until it felt like an official statement from front office. Matt was very preoccupied with the floor again. “So, uh…Gina called me.”

Emma laughed again.

“And how’d that work out for you, exactly?” Killian asked knowingly. Henry gritted his teeth.

“Not great, honestly. So, uh…I’m here to apologize. In person. Like a grown up.”

“A grown up, huh?”

“Something like that. Did you watch the video?”

“No,” Matt answered despondently, and Killian clicked his tongue at the sound.

“We didn’t,” he said. “It’s been a little hectic here, you see?”

Henry hummed, taking half a step closer to Matt like there was strength in numbers or extensive video plans. “I’m sorry you guys didn’t know before Rol posted it. That’s—well, apparently there’s been some discussion about that too, but, uh…you should really watch the video. It’s not heinous.”

“High praise.”

“It’s not, Killian. It’s—“ He took a deep breath, exhaling it with enough drama that Killian wondered if, maybe, they’d overreacted slightly. He needed to cal Robin. And answer David’s texts. And ground his kid. “It’s really actually pretty nice, but Matt and I didn’t think Rol would be some kind of social media celebrity, so really it’s his fault and—“

“—It’s because he’s so popular on Instagram,” Matt grumbled, eyes widening when he realized he’d rejoined the conversation.

Killian’s eyebrows were going to be stuck in the middle of his forehead.

“No practice,” he said, waving the hand not still wrapped around Emma’s middle when Matt opened his mouth to object. “I can’t do anything about yours because the United States will probably kill me if you don’t show up, but nothing with me. Nothing with the team. No going to Tarrytown, no film. If I see a tablet in your room in the next two weeks, I’m pulling sticks out of there, got it?”

Silence.

Except Henry breathing. He sounded very nervous. Gina must have yelled very loudly.

“Got it?”

Matt nodded.

“Good,” Killian said, turning his attention back to Henry. “I can’t do anything about you, you’re not actually our kid.”

“And I get the very strong impression you’ve already been reprimanded enough,” Emma added.

Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m going home after this. That’s—well, that wasn’t really up for debate. I think she and Robin want to talk to me and Rol together.”

“How’s it feel to be thirteen years old again?”

“As weird as you’d expect it to be.” Emma hummed, and Killian didn’t have to move to know her lips had quirked up slightly. Matt was still frozen to the kitchen floor. “And,” Henry continued, “you should really watch the video at some point. It’s…well, I doubt it’s going to go anywhere now, but it’s not as bad as you think it might be.”

Henry’s phone buzzed, as if it had been waiting for a lull in the conversation and he snapped his jaw when he saw the name on the screen. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered, clapping Matt on the shoulder. “Listen, I know we messed up, but it’s…seriously, Toph is pretty entertaining on the ice. You know he never really stops talking.”

“So we’ve heard,” Killian said.

“Right. Well, he got McDonald’s out of the deal after practice, so, trust me, his psyche hasn’t been messed up or anything.”

“Sure.”

Henry sighed – and Killian knew he resisted rolling his eyes again, but his phone was also ringing incessantly now and it was suspiciously quiet in the rest of the house. He was fairly certain Peggy was eavesdropping at the other end of the hall. “Am I allowed to see your kids again?” Henry quipped.

“Obviously,” Emma muttered. “Plus, you’re the only one who ever actually volunteers to babysit.”

“We do this again, though, and we’ll actually ground you,” Killian warned.

Henry grinned. That felt wrong. And…not.

What a weird day.

Peggy ran into the kitchen, colliding with Killian’s side and yanking on Emma’s hair, a mess of limbs and words and Henry’s smile got louder when she jumped towards him. He lifted her up. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Henry promised, pressing a quick kiss to Peggy’s hair. “I got to go, kid, but I’ll see you day after tomorrow, right?”

“What’s the day after tomorrow?”

“We’re going to take pictures on the High Line,” Peggy cried. Directly into Henry’s ear.

“If I don’t go deaf before then, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Killian echoed. “Alright. Go, before you lose practice privileges too.”

“I don’t think that’s really an option.”

“You want to test it?”

“I mean…”

Killian laughed. “Exactly.”

And he had every intention of watching the video, he did, but life was life and Chris had another hockey practice and Matt had made the U14 team and they couldn’t keep him from that practice even if Emma was very quick to point out that maybe suggesting the United States was going to kill was us wasn’t the best move and Peggy had some book report due that, apparently, required glitter.

And a trip to the High Line.

And, suddenly, it was a two days later and Chris was still an internet star and Killian hadn’t seen the video, jogging on a treadmill with Ariel a few feet away and several TVs on and he had to grip the sides of the stupid thing to make sure he didn’t fall off.

Because his kid was on the TV in front of him – speaking words that were incredibly familiar.

“How is this still being talked about?” Killian asked, Ariel laughing from her own treadmill and she didn’t slow down when she wiped the sweat away from her face.

“Cap, are you kidding me? It’s the cutest thing in the world.”

“What?”

Ariel stopped running. She nearly fell on the floor. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, did you not watch it yet? Killian, this has been not he internet for a millennia!”

“Ok, that’s not true at all.”

“Days! Actual days!”

He rolled his eyes, hitting a few buttons until the machine under him slowed and the video was still playing.

“One, two, one, two, one, two.”

The mantra echoed in Killian’s ears and his brain and, possibly, his heart because Chris was counting every time he skated and it wasn’t really skating. His blades came off the ice whenever he moved, more steps than gliding anywhere and he’d taught him that, and told him to count when you move so it’s easier the very first time he’d gotten on the ice and the realization that it had stuck made his breath catch audibly.

Ariel laughed. She was sitting on the treadmill now.

“Told you,” she muttered, eyes flitting back to the screen when Chris kept talking. He really never stopped.

“I’m going to have a nap.”

“No, Chris, you can’t just lay down on the ice.”

He laid down anyway, stick still clutched in his hand and head flat on the ice with his legs splayed out wide. Killian refused to be held accountable for whatever sound he made.

God, he hoped he wasn’t as close to crying as he felt.

“One, two, one, two, one, two.” He bobbled slightly, keeping his balance with the blade of his stick. But he didn’t fall down. “One, two, one, two, I did it! I did it!”

“Oh, I didn’t hear that part before,” Ariel mumbled, glancing at Killian with slightly glossy eyes. “Did you tell him that?”

Killian nodded numbly. He wasn’t sure if he was still breathing anymore, only a little frustrated when the video cut off, but that was the nature of TV and he jumped when he heard Emma’s sneakers behind him.

She was holding her phone.

“Reese’s finally wore me down and got me to watch the video,” she explained with a shrug. “You know he falls over at one point and just decides to…crawl on the ice?”

Killian’s laugh flew out of him, smile stretching across his face on instinct and—“Ah, shit we’re going to have to apologize to Matt, huh?”

“Eh, I mean…there was still the filming thing and Rol’s incredible social media presence.”

“It’s because of his Instagram and Scarlet’s dog,” Ariel reasoned. “Also, don’t tell Scarlet that.”

Emma saluted. “I think we’ve established a solid parental base for turning our kids into internet celebrities while also acknowledging that it’s pretty goddamn cute. Here,” she added, pushing her phone towards Killian, “look at this.”

“Watch out everyone!” He didn’t even try to stop. He crashed over, approximately, three kids, two sticks and collided directly with the boards. “I win!”

“Oh my God,” Killian muttered.

There were more footsteps. Of course there were. “That was my favorite part,” Ruby said, leaning against the open door of the gym and Ariel rolled her eyes at their disregard for the workout schedule. “Did I apologize yet for not instructing any of your kids on how to use the internet?”

“I don’t think that’s really your fault, Lucas.”

“Eh, Scarlet’s been a dick about it.”

“That’s doesn’t surprise me either,” Emma muttered. Chris was still running into the boards in the video.

“Seriously, do not tell him about the dog,” Ariel said again. Chris mumbled something else, a string of words Killian was fairly sure he understood, but desperately needed to hear again and maybe they should really apologize to Matt. “Oh, no, what was that part?” Ariel asked. “Was that what I thought it was?”

Emma rewound the video.

That was a very old sentence.

“I’m going to go so fast. Matt fast. Like Matt.”

“God damn,” Ruby said, a catch in her voice and Emma’s head fell onto Killian’s shoulder. “That’s the cutest thing i’ve ever heard. I mean he shouldn’t have put it on the internet, but—“

“—He’s thirteen,” Emma reasoned.

“Yeah, yeah, young and whatever. Cap, you’ve got to teach that kid how to go fast.”

Killian wrapped his arm around Emma’s waist. “It’s a work in progress, Lucas.”

And it was – two weeks later, after the grounding and the lack of film and there hadn’t been a single tablet sighting in Matt’s room the entire time because the video was cute, but it was also agains the rules, all four of them standing on the ice in Tarrytown with sticks in their hands and one, two on their lips.

Peggy refused to be kept off the ice.

“You’ve got to keep your feet on the ice, C,” Matt called from the other side of the rink, standing in front of the goal with his weight resting on the front of his skates. “You’re going to fall over otherwise.”

Chris, very promptly, did just that.

Killian rolled his eyes, ignoring the shouts from the peanut gallery of cell-phone sporting family members in the stands. He looked at Emma instead, a smile tugging at the ends of her mouth.

“One, two,” she yelled.

Killian skated forward, tugging Chris up by the jersey with his name and number on it because that was just how it worked and it took them a moment to get him back on his skates. “Alright,” he said, crouching down and brushing some of the ice off the fabric. “Matt’s right. You’ve got to keep your blades on the ice. Here,” he added, holding his hand out, “move your hands down your stick. Try and follow Pegs because she’s got the right rhythm, ok?”

Chris nodded – as if he understood the word rhythm in regard to skating – and Peggy beamed at the compliment. “I can do it, Dad.”

“I know you can. Just…if you fall, don’t lay on the ice, ok?”

“It’s cold.”

“I know that too, kid. That’s what I’m saying.”

Killian ducked his head, a quick kiss to his son’s cheek and squeeze of his shoulder and Chris didn’t seem to appreciate either of those things.

“C’mon,” Matt groaned, swinging his stick like he actually played goalie. None of them were wearing pads. “You’ve got to take the shot, C!”

“Just follow me, Toph,” Peggy said, the smile lingering on her face as she started drifting towards the blue line and Chris only stumbled a little.

They moved slowly, Killian still crouched at center ice, and it was far from the best goal he’d ever seen. It wasn’t even really a shot, Peggy mock-screening the net and getting in Matt’s way and he didn’t try to move. He stood stock-still with his legs wide open and a five-hole that was more like a twenty-hole at that point.

Chris pulled his stick back though, just enough power to get the puck to move and Killian had a very strong suspicion that he saw Peggy’s wrists move. She knocked in.

Directly through Matt’s legs.

And it didn’t matter.

The cry they both let out as soon as the puck crossed the goal line made it seem like they’d won a gold medal or a Cup or something better than both of those things combined, tossing sticks in the air and jumping up and Chris kept yelling I did it over and over again.

Matt moved quickly – far quicker than Chris ever would, honestly – bending his knees and catching his brother around the middle, all limbs and shouts and—“What a shot, C,” Matt grinned. “You did great!”

It took them awhile to get off the ice, all three kids complaining and whining and that probably shouldn’t have been a good thing, but the video had been deceptively cute and it wasn’t trending anymore, so that was probably for the best. And Killian knew Emma had recorded the whole moment as well, but that video never saw the light of internet day, something that was just theirs and them and a collective unit that was better than hits or social media presence and eventually, years later, when Chris had hung up his skates and Matt had gotten even faster on the ice, he flicked his wrists right in front of the net at the Garden, tipping the puck in five-hole against a goalie Killian never knew the name of.

And Chris had shouted, the phone in his pocket buzzing because they’d never gotten rid of the group text.

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #if you guys are ever like #i see this hockey thing #i wonder if i should send it to laura???#the answer is always yes #always #send it #i will probably write about it #blue line one shots

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