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#to any high schoolers watching that scene: HES LYING!!!!!!

introvert--weeb · 3 years

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The reader is giving me Senju Kawaragi and Imaushi Wakasa vibes 👍 I'm not totally sure if what I've written is what you had in mind but it's what I had interpreted the request as

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!!

Mikey, Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya with a silent m!reader

TW: mentions of violence, fighting

Mikey

Mikey was used to how silent you could be. You had never been any different. People even knew you under the nickname of 'Ghost Boy'.

Mikey hardly knew anything about you that you hadn't told him directly. No-one even knew your last name unless they had asked you about what it was.

Even though he was your boyfriend, Mikey still could not tell when you were approaching. It was almost as if you floated rather than walked like everyone else. He had noted that you didn't seem to talk a lot, even when you were both alone.

You also seemed to react to things a lot faster to how most middle school boys you age did. In fact, you were hard to hit in a fight which had made Mikey a little suspicious that you weren't just a simple middle schooler. In fact, if he hadn't known any better, he would have said you were a member of a gang. After all, you rivalled him in reaction time.

At school, people knew you as the leader of a gang of friends who were just like you. Even though students at your school thought you were all a gang, none of you clarified whether you were or not. It remained a mystery to everyone.

Mikey knew about your little group. At one point he even thought you were leading your own gang. Especially when he had caught you and your group fighting against a gang that had cornered you all. Some questions had been answered while more arose in their place. Like how could move that fast? And how did you kicks knock out someone twice your size? It seemed like the whole group were on your level. None of you seemed to be human in your movements.

All of what he saw had made his curiosity about you grow all the more. After all, you were both in a relationship and he hardly knew you if this was anything to go off.

Definitely the boyfriend who would compliment you after the fight, telling you how cool you looked and how you should join Toman. Although you would refuse to join his gang, it didn't stop you two from sparring every now and then. The current standing was 50 wins for you to his 54.

Draken

Draken was no different from anyone else when it came to how silent your approach was. In fact, he had almost experienced a heart attack every week when you had snuck up on him. Not that you tried to sneak up on him.

How you two had gotten together was a mystery that no-one could solve. You were just so different from each other. Draken was loud, bold and everyone felt his presence when he entered the room. You however were reserved, quiet and no-one noticed you until it was too late. No-one could sneak up on you though as your reactions to any movement were too quick. There was one time where you had accidentally punched someone who approached you from behind with their hand outstretched.

Your boyfriend had always stated that you should join Toman since you were able to sneak up on others and that is a great quality for fights. Even if you weren't physically strong. You simply refused, not wanting to be placed where others could potentially treat you different because you were dating their Vice Captain. Although there were rumours that you were in a gang with your friends but no one knew since you never agreed or denied.

It was as if fate had told him to head to the supermarket that one night. He was just rounding the corner when he could hear what sounded like a fight. Curiosity got the best of him as he went to watch the commotion that was happening.

To his surprise, he watched as his boyfriend had flipped his opponent onto his back with a swift kick to the side of the head following after. Blood had stained your boot as you moved to take down the others. Your friends were just as swift with their fighting partner and in no time at all the gang was lying unconscious.

"Didn't realise you were in a gang Y/N," Draken called out as he approached you. Maybe that is why you never agreed to join Toman. You however just ignored the statement since it was neither truth or lie, and instead asked what your tall boyfriend was doing out and about.

Maybe it was the way you dodged the topic but Ken found himself wanting to learn more about this side of you. Were you always out fighting or was it only when people would approach you? Did you take advantage of your silent nature when fighting or was that not something you thought about? So many questions swirled around Draken's mind about what he wanted to find out about you.

Takemichi

What had attracted Takemichi to you was how strong you seemed. Just like you, your aura was silent and unnoticeable. You were known as a phantom since you would just appear where others were.

As you both got into a relationship, he realised that he knew nothing about you really. He knew your first name but not your last; he knew your friends and yet he had never noticed them; and he knew about the rumours of you being a delinquent in a gang that involved your friends but didn't know if it was true. Every time he brought up the topic, you would either ignore him or just brush over a response.

There had been times where Takemichi hadn't noticed you were there, something he hated to admit to himself. You were just so quiet that you blended into the background of any scene. You would be hyper-vigilant of your surroundings and so your reaction time was incredible fast. It reminded him of Mikey.

It had been while he was on a bike ride with Mikey and Draken that he noticed you and your friends in an empty parking lot, 15 high schoolers circling your group of 4. Takemichi had asked Mikey and Draken to pull over so he could help you out. However, although he never took his eyes off you, before he knew it the high schoolers were on the ground groaning in pain.

Had he blinked that long? There was no way 4 middle school boys could have defeated all those boys in less time it takes to complete a blink! Mikey and Draken were also shocked at what they saw. It would have taken them at least a minute or so to defeat that gang but you had got it done in seconds. It couldn't be possible but they had witnessed it with their own eyes.

The curiosity that your boyfriend already harboured about you had increased tenfold. Maybe those rumours of you being in a gang were true, not that you would enlighten him on the thought. You would remain as closed off as you always had.

Not noticing that your boyfriend was there, you had walked off with your friends following. Mikey and Draken pestered Takemichi for information about you. Were you a gang leader? Were you a strong fighter? Would you join Toman if the blond asked? All questions Takemichi had no answer to. He wanted to learn more about you and maybe this was the time he could.

Mitsuya

You had both met each other when collecting your younger sibling. It was just a coincidence that they happened to be friends with Luna. They had both left the classroom together and made their way over to where Takashi was stood. Unbeknownst to him, you were stood to his right around a foot distance between the two of you.

Mitsuya wasn't going to lie. He was confused when your sibling hadn't diverted off to where someone would be waiting for them. After all, he was only here for Luna and she hadn't mentioned anything about a play date. However, it was only when your sibling walked up to you that he even realised someone was next to him. A conversation had started there, you hardly speaking while Mitsuya simply enjoyed your presence.

Once you were together, he still couldn't get you to open up fully to him. The only reason he knew your last name was because Luna had told him your sibling's full name. He had also heard the rumours that you were leading a gang but you would just shrug and explain that the rumour had always been around. So he got no straight answer of whether you did lead a gang or not.

Mitsuya had noticed how your reactions were suspiciously fast when it came to anyone approaching you from behind. There had been a time where you had flipped someone over your shoulder due to them simply going to get your attention through a shoulder tap.

One day Mitsuya had gone to ride his bike to meet up with the other Toman leaders to hang out. As your boyfriend passed the park, he noticed you were hanging out with your friends when a boy twice your size had come to harass you. Mitsuya felt panic bubbling in his chest as he pulled over, the thought of going over to defend you crossing his mind. That was until you had simply kicked at your opponent, knocking him down in an instant. For your size, you shouldn't have been able to knock him out unless you were Mikey and Mikey was a monster. But the larger boy didn't get back up while you simply continued your conversation with your friends.

Mitsuya was both impressed and intrigued. Had you always been able to fight? Was this how the rumours about you being in a gang had started? His curiosity about you had grown significantly and he made it his mission to find out everything about you.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader #draken #ken ryuguji #ken ryuguji x reader #mikey sano #mikey x reader #manjiro sano #male reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #takemichi hanagaki #takemichi x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya takashi #requested #anime drabble

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lisbonsteresa · 3 years

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Baby (This Rain Changes Everything)

(happy very belated nace week) (for day 2: first date gone wrong but ends incredibly right)

“Almost there”

“Don’t worry; this isn’t the first time I’ve been blindfolded in the backseat of a car on its way to a mystery location.”

His gaze flicked up to the rearview mirror to see Nancy smirking in his direction, seeming perfectly calm and in control despite the bandana covering her eyes. “One day we’re going to have a talk about how casually you say things like that.”

“Maybe.” She replied with a snort of laughter. “Seems more like a fourth date conversation though, don’t you think?”

He laughed and agreed, suddenly very thankful that Nancy couldn’t see how tightly he was gripping Florence’s steering wheel. The idea that she might already be thinking about their fourth date was something that both thrilled and terrified Ace, especially considering how their first was going.

First there’d been the mix-up at the movies, where whatever high schooler running the projector had decided to sub The Big Lebowski for Nightmare on Elm Street. Then Lu Chow’s had suddenly closed for a family emergency before they’d even put their order in. Nancy had seemed to take it all in stride, but Ace would be lying if he said the missteps were helping his confidence.

And now Bess had texted him that her weather app was reporting rain on the way, which was the last thing he needed. He was already nervous enough about this last idea - he didn’t need anything else going wrong tonight.

But, he reminded himself as he parked the car and rushed to the back door to help Nancy out of her seat, it was too late to second-guess himself any further. One hand in each of hers, he walked backwards, guiding her step by step until they were standing between Florence’s now-dark headlights. “Ready?” She nodded with a smile as he reached up and untied the bandana.

There in front of them was a thick flannel blanket, spread out across the rocky ground at the edge of the bluffs and weighed down by two of his dad’s camping lanterns he’d borrowed from their garage. A small cooler he knew contained a pint of blueberry ice cream from Nancy’s favorite shop sat to one side, its lid slightly cracked but still sturdy.

Bess had - very enthusiastically - agreed to get everything set up for their arrival, and looking at it now, with the moon just starting to rise and the gentle crash of the waves below, Ace had to admit it did look very romantic. He just really hoped he wasn’t the only one who saw it that way.

He chanced a glance over at her, worried he’d find her expression hurt, or worse, angry. But instead she was staring straight ahead with a far-away look in her eyes, like she was seeing something he couldn’t; watching a scene he didn’t know play out in front of her. “Nancy?” She didn’t respond.

Shit. So much for a fourth date. He’d probably just ruined their first.

“This was stupid, sorry, I don’t know what I was -” Nancy hadn’t moved; hadn’t spoken.

His face was burning; this was terrible idea; he was an idiot.

“I’m so sorry Nance. I just thought… there’s been so many bad memories on these bluffs, that maybe there should be some good ones too; that it could help…” his voice died in his throat as he scrambled to find a way to explain

“Help that pain become love?” Her voice was quiet as she turned to him, with watery eyes and an expression he couldn’t quite make out in the dim light, but her words struck something inside him and he wondered (not for the first time) how she always seemed to understand exactly what he was thinking.

“…Yeah. Yeah, actually, exactly that. But if you don’t like it or you think it’s weird we can go, we can go right now. I don’t ever want to do anything that would hurt you, or -”

And then she was kissing him.

And the rain started.

There was no warning - no change in the wind or distant rumble of thunder. It was like the sky just opened up and the rain came pouring down.

He could feel the droplets hitting his lucky blue pullover and flattening his hair; knew the blanket must be soaked beyond saving; could imagine the cooler filling with rainwater through the crack in the lid until the ice cream was set afloat.

But when Nancy pulled away she was laughing; really, genuinely laughing for what felt like the first time in ages, and in that moment he decided her laugh was his favorite sound in the world.

(Then her lips were on his again and suddenly he couldn’t think of anything else.)

#now i know what you're thinking #yes this is day 2...and listen...#days 1 3 and 4 are kind of coming together to be their own thing and i just wanted to get something out so here's a quick little thing #thank you if you like it and if you don't...haha i'm sorry i'm just in a silly goofy mood #nd #ndff

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knightofameris · 4 years

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naturally — sugawara koushi

✎ gender. uhm neutral? ✎ contains. mutual pining, childhood friends, reader is a manager, also reader has a lot of anxiety when it comes to relationships, not beta read ✎ wc. 1.6k

✎ summary. the time you were thankfully wrong in your assumptions.

✎ ameris’ notes. i came back just to post this because this is my favorite piece I’ve written so far on this blog i think. also noticed many writers deactivating ;—; and just a lack of content (esp for suga). i was originally going to post this when i came back fully along with everything else but this is fine. (i will reply to all messages later <3 thank you everyone for your kind words)

also tried a different writing style for this,,,

i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. ♡

previous title: i thought we already were [i still suck at titles this might still change]

You couldn’t help but slam your head against your desk. Ennoshita sighed at your predicament when it came to the crush you had on your upperclassman, Sugawara Koushi. Except, to you he was so much more. Not in just the fact that he was your crush but he’s been someone you’ve known for almost your entire life.

“What if he doesn’t like me, Ennoshita,” you cried into your arms, not able to take the heartbreak that could come with Sugawara rejecting your feelings and your 10+ year friendship turning to dogshit.

Ennoshita tapped his fingers against the desk, “I don’t think he’d break off your friendship just like that even if he didn’t. And if he doesn’t like you I personally give you permission to murder myself and-or Tanaka, your choice.”

In a different class at the time, Tanaka sneezed in the middle of eating his sandwich.

At this point, Ennoshita, and every other club member, was tired. Even Sugawara would shrug when Daichi asked him in the clubroom what was going on between him and you. Asahi, the one who was possibly the most oblivious when it came to people pining for another, was even frustrated at how the two of you would dance around each other.

“Why don’t you just ask them out?” Asahi asked Sugawara. In the middle of changing, Sugawara stopped in thought, his shirt barely on.

��Hmm, I don’t want to ask them before they’re ready,” Sugawara answered simply, sliding his shirt on over his head.

It was a rough life being friends with both you and Sugawara.

It was sort of sweet though, no? The fact that Sugawara wanted to wait till you were ready. He knew about your anxieties when it came to relationships. It wasn’t that your past relationships were bad, per se, but rather any time you’d enter one the anxieties just came through. Sometimes it’d be insecurities or suddenly the red flags would pop up. It was as if entering the relationship made you realize how much of a terrible person the other was.

You didn’t want that for Koushi. So he’d wait, wait till you’re comfortable to talk things out. But he will admit that it is maybe a little frustrating some days.

Especially, especially, the days when you’re closer than usually. Physically. Emotionally.

Some days you’d find yourself lying in Koushi’s bed after finishing a bit of homework. He’d be sitting on the floor at the table, still working the last few problems. You’d both have a small conversation, something to fill the room while he finished up. Then he’d crawl into bed, next to you.

“Just like when we were kids, right?” He’d grin at you, and you couldn’t help the way you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Yeah, just like when we were kids,” you’d reply and reach out for his hands, shifting to lay on your side. Koushi doing the same and inching even closer to you. He’d bring your hands up to chest level, playing with your fingers just like he’d do when the two of you were younger.

And then the two of you would fall asleep. His arm draped over your waist, pulling you close into his chest with your legs tangled with his.

You always fell asleep last, always so anxious about the whole ordeal. It’s different sleeping and cuddling together when you’re older compared to when you were both younger.

When you were younger it was just platonic feelings. And now that you’re both older and know about romantic feelings, well, something bloomed between the two of you.

Before you’d fall asleep you’d stare up at his soft face, your fingers slightly hovering over his face and especially over the beauty mark that you loved so much. He was no longer embarrassed about it like he used to be (because of you and your adoration for it). Then your hand would return back to resting on his chest and you’d nuzzle your head into him as well.

Koushi’s breathing always soothed you; it was deep and heavy. Always peaceful as you watched his chest rise and fall. You nuzzled your face into him even deeper if it was possible, your fingers lightly tapping against his sturdy chest.

He smelled a bit like lavender. It was subtle, sweet and calming. There were a few other scents too but they weren’t overbearing and never quite lingered in your nose like the lavender scent. And whenever you think about him, you just think of Koushi’s lavender scent as well as how he smelled like home.

Home.

Yeah, being with him felt like home. Even when—no—especially when your own home didn’t feel like home. You felt comfortable with him, like it was you and him versus the world. This felt natural, normal.

The lingering glances, the subtle touches.

I think it was safe to say that you’re in love. You felt stupid for saying so, even thinking so. You are in high school, barely seventeen as a second year. People would always cringe when high schoolers said they were in love.

But no one can invalidate your feelings. Only you knew what you felt and no one could say otherwise.

You’re in love with Sugawara Koushi and it didn’t scare you.

You’re in love with Sugawara Koushi and it comforted you.

You knew him better than you knew yourself and you were sure he felt the same about you, knowing you well, I mean. You still weren’t sure if he returned your feelings.

That’s how you found yourself outside his house, standing in front of him. Sugawara stared at you, head tilted with confusion since usually the two of you would just head in to get started on homework.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his hand reaching for yours. He called out for you again, your name gracing his lips. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of your hand and you looked down off to the side, scared and unsure.

“I-uhm,” your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your throat. Speaking was hard, and god you don’t think you could stare up at him while you confessed your feelings.

Rip it off like a bandaid. Just rip it off like a bandaid. Just. Rip it off! LIKE A—

With closed eyes and your hand clasping around his, you stuttered out, “I-I-uh-I really like you Koushi! It’s-It’s fine if you don’t, y’know, feel the same. I just-I just had to tell you.”

You pursed your lips and the small caresses on the back of your hand stopped. Good thing you planned to do this before entering into his house. Now you could just book it home. But then he laughed and his hand holding yours tightened back before you could run off; as if he knew you were going to do so.

You just confessed to Sugawara Koushi and he’s laughing. You felt like crying, honestly.

But Koushi was laughing because he was relieved. Relieved that he didn’t have to hold back anymore, that he no longer had to wait. Koushi had wanted you to make the first move because he already knew you liked him. He just wanted you to feel comfortable enough with your feelings before anything else happened.

All of the soft touches, the cuddling, the approaching you from behind and hugging you as you do manager work, Koushi let happen naturally. Because they were natural. It’s not like you didn’t do it back.

Whenever he’d be on break, drinking water he’d find your arms wrapped around his torso no matter how sweaty he was. Or on bus rides to practice matches or to the Sendai gym for games the two of you would sit next to each other and one of you would always fall asleep with your head resting against the other’s shoulder.

And you know, maybe Koushi was partially laughing at the fact that you couldn’t tell he likes you back. He thought it was obvious at least.

“Wh-what are you laughing about Koushi!” You pouted, tears slightly gathering at the corner of your eyes out of anxiety and fear of rejection.

“No, no, nothing bad, you’re so cute,” he sighed out, a smile apparent on his face as he took a step closer to you. “It’s just that-” he gestures with his free hand back and forth between you and himself “-I thought you knew I liked you. Because I knew you liked me. And with how we’ve been cuddling and—”

“Ah!” You shouted, lightly hitting his chest with your free hand. He let out an ‘oof’ before you placed your head against his chest out of embarrassment. You felt his chest reverberate as he laughed, his other hand coming up to rest on the top of your head, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your scalp.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest. Koushi sighed, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

“I thought we already were, y’know, together? I just wasn’t too sure,” Koushi replied. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable either. Wanted to wait till you were comfortable.”

“What if I never was?”

“I’d wait forever then.”

You huffed against his chest, wrapping your other arm around him, the hand holding his tightening. Koushi set his arm around your back, pulling you in closer as he turned to place his cheek against your head.

“You’re cheesy, Kou.” y

“Only for you.” He turned his head to kiss the crown of yours before laying his cheek against you once more. “Now let’s go inside, get some homework done and cuddle some more.”

“I hate you.”

Koushi hummed, being the first to pull away, holding your hand tightly to walk towards his house, “Whatever you say. I know you don’t.”

✎ ameris’ notes. a scene straight from my and my friends’ self-ship AU that I thought could work well as a reader-insert LOL. shifted it around so that their characters (themself?) don’t appear. actually well, it’s not really straight from it. i haven’t written this part in the AU but i wanted to write it anyway hahdfkjhakjfh LOL i tried my best not to make reader too much like myself, i only used part of the reason for relationship anxiety of mine looool.

#sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #sugawara koushi x male!reader #sugawara koshi x male!reader #sugawara koushi x neutral!reader #sugawara koshi x neutral!reader #sugawara koushi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male!reader #haikyuu x neutral!reader #a.writes #💜.suga

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thedaughterofkings · 4 years

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Team Jacob

Written for @sterekweek-2020, Day 1: Scene stealer, and I have no excuse apart from a very sleep deprived mind and that one pic from Season 1 where Derek looks extra pale, you know the one! All sentences you recognise are obviously from Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight.

About three things Stiles was absolutely positive.

First, Derek Hale was a vampire.

Second, there was a part of him - and Stiles didn’t know how potent that part might be - that wanted to eat him. Though probably not in the fun way.

And third, Stiles was not going to be the Bella Swann of this scenario.

Which is why he’s standing in the woods with said hungry vampire and quoting Bella Swann.

“I know what you are.”

As if to prove Stiles’ theory, Derek’s brow wrinkles artfully.

“You are impossibly fast and strong. Your skin is really pale, though I have no idea whether it’s cold or warm because there’s never been any good opportunity to ask to feel you up. I’ve never seen you eat or drink anything, though that evidence is inconclusive because I’ve pretty much only seen you in the woods or creeping around school, and you are definitely not seventeen, but then not everyone has to be bitten at seventeen, right? But anyways, I know what you are,” he ends triumphantly.

Derek looks - mostly constipated actually, but perhaps that’s just par for the course for vampires.

“What are you talking about?” he asks and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“I know what you are,” he repeats, and Derek finally returns to the script, at least mostly.

“Well, say it then.”

“You’re a vampire,” Stiles states proudly and is more than a little offended when Derek snorts loudly.

“What?!”

“You’re a vampire,” Stiles repeats himself again, glaring at Derek’s stupid, grinning face. He hadn’t even known the man could smile, never mind grin! He’d say it suits him, but it’s a grin at Stiles’ expense, so obviously it’s horrid. (It really, really isn’t.) Derek still doesn’t look convinced, so Stiles also repeats his list of hard, cold evidence (get it? Hard and cold - like a vampire!):

“You are super fast and strong, way too pale, live in a house - of sorts - in the woods, you are a terrible creeper around high schoolers, and I’ve definitely seen your eyes change colour, though I don’t know what colour blue represents - eats only fish? Are you a pescatarian vampire?”

“You think I’m a pescatarian vampire? When I don’t even sparkle?”

Stiles gasps and points excitedly:

“You’ve seen Twilight!!!”

And then Derek has the chuzpe to shake his head.

“No, I haven’t.” But then he smirks and adds: “I’ve read it.”

“That’s worse!” Stiles shakes his head. “Something’s obviously very wrong with you.”

“But at least I don’t sparkle,” Derek offers and Stiles sighs.

“I knew something didn’t fit. But what are you then, and don’t even think about lying, because as I said, something is clearly very wrong with you, and it’s not just that you’ve read Twilight!”

“I’m not a vampire,” Derek starts and Stiles rolls his eyes. They’d certainly established that.

“I’m a born werewolf.”

Stiles really should have seen that one coming.

“As if,” he scoffs and Derek frowns.

“No, for real, I’m a werewolf, look” he insists and Stiles yelps when Derek’s impressive eyebrows suddenly disappear, no, transform into sideburns? And then there’s the fangs, can’t forget those, and of course the blue eyes.

“So I guess blue eyes don’t mean pescatarian then, do they?” he asks and Derek shakes his head. For some reason such a human gesture looks extra weird with the decidedly superhuman face.

“You’re no Jacob, that’s for sure,” Stiles mutters and yelps again when Derek’s features transform back suddenly, revealing a frown.

“At least I’m not in love with you just because I will be in love with your child,” he snipes back and Stiles gapes at him.

“Shut up,” Derek grumbles and Stiles squawks.

“I didn’t even say anything!” he protests and then narrows his eyes as a thought occurs to him suddenly:

“You can’t hear my thoughts, can you? That was totally Edward’s thing, not Jacobs’!”

“No, but I can hear your heartbeat,” Derek replies and Stiles scrunches up his nose.

“That’s only mildly less creepy, thanks.”

He chews on his lower lip for a moment and then comes to a decision.

“Okay, you are going to buy me a lot of curly fries and a big milkshake and then you are going to explain all of this properly - especially what’s wrong with Scott, I really need help there.”

To his surprise, Derek doesn’t even object, just turns and starts leading them out of the woods again. Stiles watches him walk away for a few seconds and then shrugs and follows him.

“I did always like Jacob better,” he mutters and ahead of him Derek stumbles over thin air.

#sterekweek2020 #Sterekscene6 #Sterek #teen wolf #Sterekweek #my Sterek fic #my Sterekweek fic #(that's the tag where you'll find all of my Sterekweek fics from years past!)#my fic

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emmy-writes-sometimes · 4 years

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Crush

The reader is an actress and meets Sebastian at a wrap party. Fortunately, they both have something in common; they have a crush on each other.

You woke up to the sound of your roommate and co-star, Tom, walking into the apartment you were sharing. You’d spent most of the day moping because you’d finally wrapped all of your scenes for Far From Home, and you were missing it already. You didn’t have many scenes with him, but Jake was the definition of crazy and you could have used some of that. Tom was already your best friend, and your roommate, so you always saw enough of him. And tonight was maybe the last time you were going to see everyone together; it was the wrap party and you weren’t sure you could even fit into your dress because you were so bloated from eating ice cream all day.

“What’s wrong with you?” Tom asked, looking you up and down. You shrugged, looking over at the pint of ice cream and bowl of popcorn you’d left sitting on the coffee table.

“Just moping,” you responded.

“Well, stop. Get ready for the party and we can pregame.” You scoffed. You didn’t usually drink copious amounts of alcohol, but maybe tonight was the night. “Please? I don’t want to be the drunk one.”

“Whatever,” you responded as you sat up. You cleaned up your mess before taking a shower, doing your hair and makeup, and getting into your dress. It was a little slutty, but you had been feeling confident when you got it because you were training at that point. You looked damn good in it, too, and there was one person you had your eyes on. Sebastian Stan, the guy who played Bucky. You’d met him a few times, but only in passing. You’d never had a conversation with him, but from everything you’d heard he was sweet. You were probably sweet to him, just a kid, but if you said you didn’t like him, you’d be lying. You had a hard crush on him, and while Tom had figured it out and insisted you ask him out, you’d refused. You didn’t know him, first of all. There was no way he would go out with someone so young. That, and your best friend was Tom. He was all but a brother, and contrary to popular belief he could be intimidating to anyone who got you home too late at night.

“Ow!” Tom marveled as you walked out. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! Thank God, you look amazing.”

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m always pretty,” you frowned.

“You’re always pretty. Now come on, let’s go.” You grabbed your fully charged phone, your purse, and walked out of the apartment with Tom. He dragged you to two liquor stores before finding what he wanted, and then you Ubered over to Jake’s house. It was eccentric, to say the least. Like him. He was cool, though. You loved having him around.

You drank the least out of both of them, worried about throwing up because of course Tom had to get tequila, and just sat back and laughed as they were their stupid selves. Finally the alarm on Jake’s phone sounded and another car picked you up to head over to the venue. You vaguely recognized some of the other actors, never really having met them since you weren’t in the other films. You finally saw Sebastian, standing with Anthony, and tried to come up with a reason to talk to him. You must have watched him for two or three minutes out of the corner of your eye before you saw him go up to the bar, probably to get more drinks.

“Oh, can you get me one?” Tom asked when you muttered that you were going.

“I’m going to shoot my shot, but maybe on the way back, big guy.” You pat his shoulder and walked toward the bar, ID in hand. You looked like a high schooler to anyone that knew you from movies, because you often played them. But with real makeup on you turned your actual age, and you could only hope that was going to serve you well tonight.

“Oh, hey!” Sebastian said to you as you walked up to the bar, taking a seat at the counter. “You’re playing MJ, right?”

“Yeah,” you responded with a smile. “I promise I’m old enough to drink.” He chuckled.

“I believe you. I’m not so sure these guys will, though. I’m Sebastian, by the way. I played Bucky, with the hair.”

“Didn’t recognize you without the fake arm and the face mask,” you said. “I, Tonya was a fucking masterpiece. By the way.”

“That mustache never looked good on me, I don’t think. But it was such a good thing to work on, especially after doing all of these action movies. It was really fun.”

“Oh, definitely. I’m doing an indie movie this summer and I can not wait to get a break from the action.” You continued a quick conversation until the bartender pulled you out of it, asking for your drink order. You went with a vodka cranberry, your usual, and noticed that Sebastian only got one beer for himself.

“I’ll tell you what, I hate these things sometimes,” Sebastian said as he watched a room full of people that were only familiar to those who worked on the movie would know. “It’s like, thanks for inviting me, I know three people. Not that I’m not grateful, but…”

“I know what you mean,” you interrupted. “I spent half the afternoon pre-gaming with Tom and Jake and I kind of just want to go to Waffle House and go to bed.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a thing? People in Atlanta actually, like, go to Waffle House?” You actually laughed out loud at that one.

“Duh! I grew up in Florida and they��re definitely the best drunk food around. I was so sad when I moved to New York and couldn’t get any.”

Long story short, you and Sebastian talked most of the night. You even did shots together when Robert offered to pay for one for everyone. You spoke to Tom for a minute as he was getting another drink, but he saw you with Sebastian and excused himself back to where he was talking with Jacob and Harrison.

“I thought they’d have more food,” Sebastian said quietly after a second of silence. “I’m half drunk and starving. This might be weird to ask, but do you want to go to Waffle House?” In ten minutes you’d both left the party and were on the way to get the best drunk food there could possibly be. You sat down in a corner booth that you and Tom often sat in on nights when you were just too excited to film the next day and couldn’t sleep.

“I have to confess something,” Sebastian said as he was destroying a plate of hash browns a few minutes later. You looked up at him, stopping pouring the syrup all over your waffle. “I thought you were intimidating. Until I talked to you.”

“That’s what everyone says! I don’t understand why because I literally look like a child.” He laughed.

“No, you’re gorgeous. You just look like you could kill someone if they look at you the wrong way. And I respect that. You’re cool.”

“Then I have something to confess.” Maybe it was the vodka and the tequila making decisions for you, but you were going to shoot your shot. If it ended up that he thought it was dumb, you could just turn it into a joke and take a bite of your waffle.

“What might that be?” He wiped his hands on a napkin and waited. You looked away for a second, seeing a text on your phone from Tom asking where the hell you were.

“I kind of have, like, a massive crush on you. It’s literally the dumbest thing ever, I’m twelve.” You drank a sip of water, waiting for an answer. Instead you got a grin from Sebastian. Those stupid, perfect lips were turned into a smile and his face was slightly flushed because he was still a little buzzed and he looked absolutely adorable.

“It’s not dumb. I think I might have a crush on you, too. This doesn’t count as a first date, though, does it?”

“It’s Waffle House, it’s basically a five star restaurant.” He sat back on the bench, thinking about something, and then responded. “Are you sure you want someone who can barely drink legally, though?”

“You’re cool, that’s all I care about. You’re pretty and funny and I have a massive crush on you.” He turned your own words against you, and you couldn’t help but smile. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Nothing,” you responded.

“Then, if that’s okay with you, I’d like to put this crush to the test and take you out.”

“I’d like that.” You looked down at your food and continued eating, glad that you’d finally told him you liked him. You couldn’t have imagined your night ending that way, but it did. Once Sebastian begged you to let him pay for the food he had sobered up enough to go back to the venue and get his car.

“I can get an Uber, you really don’t have to drive all the way across town.”

“I want to,” he replied with a smile on his face. So you got in and he drove you home. You groaned at the sight of a light still on in the apartment, knowing that Tom was about to grill you about where you’d been and why you’d abandoned him. “I’ll walk you up. It’s dark.”

“Thanks.” He opened your door for you and let you lead him down to the apartment, where you stopped at the lobby. “I literally don’t even have your phone number.”

“Oh, you’re right, hold on.” In a minute he’d Airdropped you his phone number and sent you a text just to make sure it went through. “I’ll text you. God, that sounds so lame. Is that what kids these days say?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Thanks for walking me back up. Drive safe.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” You were in absolute heaven when you turned around and walked into the lobby of the apartment, and just to make sure he was okay you watched him walk back to his car. He drove away a minute later and you turned to go to the elevator.

“Where have you been?” Tom asked loudly, as soon as you walked into the apartment. “I was freaking out! Your location just said you were at Waffle House, but you didn’t respond, so I thought your phone got stolen or you died or…” He was definitely still half-drunk, you decided, when he stumbled over his words and his voice broke.

“I was with Sebastian,” you explained. Tom smiled.

“So you told him about…”

“Yep. I told him I have a crush on him and he said the same thing. We’re going out tomorrow night.”

“That’s my girl!” Tom high-fived you and giggled his way through the rest of the night. As you turned to your phone, you saw it light up with a text from Sebastian.

Pick you up tomorrow at 7??

Definitely.

A/N: I loved writing this one so I hope you like it too!!! A date with Seb would be 🥺🥺

#sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan fluff

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herohotline · 4 years

Text

Steps to Being a Hero (Shinsou x You)

A/N: this was originally a song fic but the song borderline didnt make sense with the story so i just got rid of the lyrics completely.

Prompt: You’re in the business class and inspired by Shinsou’s performance at the Sport’s Festival, you decide to lend him a hand in his path to heroism.

Shinso Hitoshi. He made quite the scene at the Sports Festival- if people didn’t know about him before, they certainly did now, even if he did lose during the first branch. His little speech and quirk caught many eyes, including your own. You felt a little bad when he lost- but oh well, right? You didn’t know the guy, and the person who beat him, Midoriya, ended up losing to someone else anyway. You weren’t involved with any of them since you were in the Business class- but you played close attention constantly. Besides, who would take a sale from someone who didn’t know what they were talking about?

Shinso… you felt like he might have more potential than he’s being given. You’d have to keep your eye on him. There’s only up from here for these heroes in training- and that includes him.

Curiosity guiding you, you seek Shinso out during lunch. He’s sitting with a group of who’d you assume were friends if he was talking or initiating with them- but instead, he seemed to just blend in with the scene as he quietly ate. Maybe bothering him won’t be too much of a hassle...

“You’re Shinso Hitoshi, correct?” You tap him on the shoulder, effectively getting his attention and the attention of his peers. He looks up at you as if he’s annoyed- but still curious with his eyes widening just a bit.

“Correct,” his voice is smooth and deep, surprisingly deep for a high schooler, “Who are you?”

“___ ____, I’m in the business course,” you hold your hand out for him to shake and you take note that his hold is firm. Good, you think, nothing worse than a weak handshake - especially for a future hero. “I have an assignment where we all have to interview a future hero of our choice and make future references for them- such as what agencies they’d excel in, what programs they would show up in- that’s the gist. I was wondering if I could interview you?” You gesture to the notepad and pen in your hands. “It shouldn’t take long.”

His brows pinch together in confusion, a frown twisting on his face as he gives you a bizarre look. “Shouldn’t you interview the Hero Course students if you’re looking for future heroes?”

“We’re all in U.A, aren’t we?” You throw back at him. “And you said it yourself. You said you’d get into the Hero Course and get certified, become a better hero than any of them.” You straighten your posture as you look down at him. Also, I want to stand out by interviewing someone that no one else has, but that’s not important. “I believe you, so I thought I’d get a head start on your career. So will you let me interview you or not?”

Shinso stares up at you in wide eyes, his friends ooo’ing and giggling in the background. His lips purse as he nods, slowly standing and waiting for you to lead him somewhere else.

You take the hint and take him to the library. From there, you discuss agencies, news networks, and net worth. What locations are full of villain activity, and what insurance companies he should look into for his benefit and where they accepted said insurance companies. You accidentally lied about how long it would take- since he never really thought about the business side of being a hero, you had a lot to lay out and carve for him as you put together your essay.

In the end, you got the dead-eyed purple mess to laugh at least twice. Maybe, you think, you gained a friend and work partner. But… only time will tell. All you know is that it’s a damn shame leaving his side once the class bell rings.

---

Like many nights, you cram your studies as best you can and end up restless in bed afterward. It’s late- arguably too late to try and get sleep before class starts. So, you reason as you roll out of bed and put on some decent clothes, you might as well take a midnight stroll. The late-night/early morning air was always refreshing anyway and helped clear your mind.

Maybe once you take your walk, you’d make some coffee. Your dorm had an espresso machine in the kitchen and you could make a pretty good latte with it- or even just some steamed milk if you needed something simple and warm.

Once you fix your bedhead a little and get outside, you put in your earbuds and begin to walk. You don’t even notice how far you’ve gone until you reach the entrance to U.A- where a familiar purple haired boy is coming from.

You take out an earbud and call out to him. Once you have his attention, he turns to you and you notice plastic bags in his hands. You walk toward each other quietly and meet halfway with equally surprised faces.

“Where are you shopping at this hour?” You point toward his bags.

“Convenience store… it’s nearby,” Shinso shrugs, and now it’s his turn to make a remark. “I didn’t think I’d see anyone else up this late.”

“I’m in the business course,” you reason. Without asking, you reach for one of his bags and peek inside. You’re surprised that he doesn’t even stop you. “Canned coffee?”

“And other snacks,” he gestures to the bag left in his hand. You keep the one that you have as you start to walk backwards-- towards the dorms. Shinso follows, looking at you with tired eyes.

“Ditch this stuff,” you say. “It’s not that good. I bet the coffee I make tastes way better and has a stronger kick.”

“You can make coffee?”

“Yeah, we have an espresso machine in the kitchens. Do you?”

“No.”

You roll your eyes. “Must be a business class thing. We’re teenagers but they’re still trying to get us addicted to coffee like the rest of them.” You almost trip on a crack in the curb, making the tired boy snort in amusement as you fluster and decide to start walking normally by his side. “I can make you some. It’s a few buildings down from yours, I think, but if you don’t mind then it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t mind, then. The rest of the walk back is filled with small talk- nothing like your first time together. It’s more witty and familiar, probably because you’re just talking as peers rather than planning the future of taxes and checks.

When you reach your dorm building, you slowly open the doors a crack for both you and Shinso to slip through before closing it just as slowly so you don’t alert anyone. Then you lead him to the kitchens, going right toward the espresso machine and Shinso placing his plastic bags on the counter.

“So,” you start up the machine, grabbing the different tools you might need and milk out of the fridge. “What would you like? Latte? Espresso? Americano?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Shinso takes a seat on the counter as well and you chuckle.

“Smart choice. Alright, what snacks do you got?”

“Mm,” he hums as he rifles through the bag and places the contents down beside him. “A few different candies, some pocky… and gum.”

“You have a sweet tooth?” You eye him as you make your drinks with the machine. He gives you a small smile.

“Maybe.”

Eventually, you’re talking as if you’re old friends while you make the coffee. You convince him to try and throw candy in your mouth- eventually, he stops wasting them since they all end up on the floor.

Drinks finally ready, you both sit at the couches in the common area as you sip on them. And as you knew it would, quirks come up.

“You really weren’t put off by my quirk when you saw it at the festival?”

You shake your head with a smile. “Not at all. I mean- you’re here taking classes learning how to be a hero or at least how to support them. If you really were weak or a villainous type, you wouldn’t be here, right?” You relax in your seat and sigh. “You being here is enough reason to believe in your abilities.”

“You talk about U.A pretty highly,” Shinso notes. “What about you?”

“Honestly?” You give him a look, smirking sarcastically. “I don’t even want to be here.”

He seems surprised at that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m just here because my parents pushed me so hard. All I really want is to just… I don’t even know. But I don’t want to be a hero, so I might as well learn all about business so I can do something else once I graduate. I don’t have the quirk to be a hero, anyway.”

“Do you not have a physical quirk?”

You hum and sip your drink. “Basically. My quirk is that I can tell if people are lying or not. It’s not as much of a quirk as it is just really good intuition, you know? It’s not something I activate. It’s just… something I know.” You look towards Shinso with a smile. “It’s why I like you. You aren’t really the lying type, are you?”

“It’s exhausting to lie.” He says honestly and you nod in agreement. “And I don’t need the reputation of a liar so people think I’m a villain more than they already do.”

Suddenly, several beeps startled the both of you. It’s coming from your phone and you quickly silence it as you look at the alarm you set. “Well, it’s officially time to start getting ready for class. Joy.” You groan and roll your stiff shoulders, standing up with Shinso following. “Sorry if I kept you up later than you wanted…”

“Not at all,” he places his cup down on the coffee table and you know he’s not fibbing. “I was going to stay up anyway. I’ll head back to my dorm now, but I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You grin broadly as you lead him toward the doors. “Yeah!”

You both wave as he heads off to his dorm, and you watch as he leaves until eventually he fades from view. Yeah… maybe you’ll pay him another visit during lunch.

But for now, you’ve got coffee cups to clean. There’s no time to rest.

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m00nlitknight · 4 years

Text

wherever i may roam. ( 1 of 2 )

fandom: IT (2017) pairing: patrick hockstetter / female reader word count: 2.1k+ warnings: underage drinking. loud scenes. men being creepy. patrick being patrick. extra: based heavily off one of these prompts. part two in the works! i hope you all enjoy this, and have a fantastic day c:

Having parties wasn’t a known rarity within the ranks of Derry, but they weren’t a known phenomenon on a superficial level, either. Within the ranks of upper class high schoolers, they were typically done in the fashion of a small circle of friends rather than anything colossal. Those instances and occasions of plenty were saved for the rare event of a musical guest. While the quality of the music wasn't considered a static variable, the fun and energy that ensued from the crowd - teens and college students, usually - was. For that, many found themselves grateful for the bands, even if they were bad metal covers of pop songs, cover bands for hot acts that didn’t make tour stops in Maine, or just song-writers who were trying to make it in the world of music.

You couldn’t complain -- you shouldn’t, really. Being the daughter of a well-off lawyer whose business was usually taken out of town, and a girl with a reputation to upkeep; these events didn’t just fly under your radar, they were on a completely different radar altogether. It sucked, really, to be thrust into expectations you didn’t care to uphold, but not having the might to fight back. So, you did what you could and lived with it.

However, living with it meant blatantly going against the rule of social rules, society, and your father all the while being directly under their nose. It was a needle-thin line to walk, but one you felt you walked with confidence and care.

Which, is how you managed to sneak out of the house undetected and attend the concert that had been whispered within the school the previous week. Spoken from under the bleachers, overheard from the bathroom by those who smoked and considered themselves too cool for the joint; who knew your keen sense of hearing would become so useful?

From the moment your father bid you a sterile adieu, composed of a hollow embrace and chaste kiss to the head, you had begun putting your plans in motion. Wherever he went, likely to a hotel for whatever trial was taking place early the next morning, or whatever, you couldn’t find it in yourself to particularly care.

Looking the part of a ‘typical’ metalhead wasn’t something you were truly infatuated with to any degree. Sure, putting on the guise of torn jeans, fishnets, boots, and whatever decimated t-shirt you could find was a great bound of comfort compared to the typical stuffy outfits you had, but it felt tiring to have not just one, but two kinds of social guises to keep up. Polar opposites, at that. Surely, you deserve an award for it.

You ease the vehicle into park, a full street away from the actual event, to ensure the protection of the metallic body of your car. Next, you lean to look yourself in the eye -- eyes rimmed with a sharp black, smudged with burgundy eyeshadow, and lips done with a simple gloss. Had you any actual lip colors, you would’ve reached for them instead. You stare for a moment longer, admiring the well-pointed wing extending your likely bored resting face.

Stud earrings and a lazily done ponytail completed your look, the rest of your outfit accented with bits of silver jewelry you couldn’t find it in yourself to truly care about. Several rings were on your fingers, simple silver bands you had bought from thrift stores recently. In the frosty, night air you wore a black cardigan over a simple black tank top. Nondescript, you hope, and would allow you to simply blend into the background. A simple, forgettable face in the crowd. Exhaling, you prepare yourself for the night to come and push the car open.

The music, likely booming from the basement, lilts through the air with jagged electricity, and it manages to translate into your veins with a faint tingle in your fingers. You grin to yourself, already feeling the exhilaration to come. Around the premises of the home a multitude of cars appear parked, which has you thanking your mind for avoiding the mess of it. Multiple parked on the curbside, in the driveway, and also on the lawn. The image of the destroyed grass and streaky soil has you cringing internally, for the remembrance of the hard work that likely went into the landscaping.

The open, and partially wrecked, door frame is but a glance into the chaos that took place shortly after the sun laid itself to daily rest. Broken electronics, a lamp, a shattered glass coffee table, and a bloody and unconscious stranger lying all in view. Suddenly, you felt thankful for the thick and hard soles of your boots, and preyed your balance wouldn’t be giving out on you anytime soon.

As you draw closer you hear the music increase in volume, and can only imagine the ear-shattering havoc occurring just down the stairs. A sudden shriek to your left rips you from your foot hitting the entryway of the door, instead whipping to a sudden figure being body slammed through what you assumed was the living room window. You felt a wave of relief wash over you at the fact that this wasn’t your home, but a resounding ripple of pity for whoever actually owned the place.

You quickly stepped past and shuffled through the living room, leaving the unnamed duo to brawl, the more coherent shouting briefly as a greeting. Quickly you found the kitchen, from the trail of empty and shredded beer cans, to the demolished and alarming amount of disposable cups, you snickered to yourself quietly. The volume increased as you moved more into the building, most of the partygoers sticking to their own groups and remaining calm. Wherever the violent action was, it was bound to be nearer to the actual band.

In the corner do you find one of the kegs, swiftly making yourself a drink and turning back to the face of a stranger. Ebony hair, gel-slicked to perfection, deep brown eyes, and a teetering stance; he eyes you with curiosity and an underlying sense of something else. You shift uncomfortably when he registers your attention on him.

“Y’from here?” he slurs, prodding your shoulder aggressively.

“Nope,” a bold-faced lie, coupled with nonchalant disinterest. “You?”

“Nah, from, uh...Place a’ways from here,” he gestures with both hands, drink-filled cup sloshing with the movement and liquid threatening to spill from the open top. He leans down to your level. “Where y’from, doll?”

“Don’t quite think I’ll share where I’m from with a guy who won’t even tell me his name before getting my address,” you cringe at the stench of beer heavy on his breath and lean back.

“Oh, uhhh...Name’s, fuckin’...Michael, y’can call me Mike, though,” a grin overtakes his features while your frown deepens.

“Alright, Mike, I’ll see’ya around,” you attempt to shift around him, to shuffle out from the keg-corner only to be blocked.

“N’awww, c’mon? I was polite, or whatever, ain’t’cha gonna tell me your name, dollface?”

“No, now let me through.”

“Or what, kitten?”

Outwardly you groan at the intrusion of your space, and also the blatant annoyance of him. His turns nearly primal while the music gets louder, a crescendo you knew you would likely have trouble yelling over.

A thin, pale finger with several rings taps itself on his shoulder, from a form you were unable to see. Michael turns around, aggravation apparent while he begins, “Can’t’cha see we’re busy h--”

He’s cut off by a jarring and strength-filled punch, falling awkward and stone-cold out on your shoulder and kegs. You watch him fall, as though it happens in slow motion, eyes wide and nearly dropping your drink. Upon turning your head you come eye-to-eye with someone who could put you in an even worse position and you feel a faint sliver of fear scurry up your spine. Patrick Hockstetter.

“Kitten,” he starts, with a deadly vocal tone which could only be described as velvet draped over gravel. You want to cringe. “That your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“Ew, no,” No gentle care is taken into shoving the unconscious boy’s body from yours and onto the matted, once shaggy carpeting. “Just a fuckin’ creep who didn’t know where or when to stop.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes, momentary, and he grins to himself while grabbing something to drink. It makes you uneasy, to see someone who knows everyone at your school. Your arms cross as you move to leave, until his voice speaks over the music once again.

“What brings a girl like you to a place like this?” It makes you realize just how close he’s managed to get to you, lips near your ear as though his presence engulfs you. “Careful, princess, or you just might get devoured.”

“I--” a short-lived stammer as he turns and throws an arm over your shoulders, causing you to tense.

“S’okay! I’ll be but a chaperone so you aren’t found dead by sunrise.”

“Wait,” just barely croaked out, and obviously no hindrance as he begins dragging you from the corner and into the rest of the party.

He takes you down the stairs, a bouncy lack of care going into his lengthened strides and whether or not you were able to keep up. You hold onto him, sliding an arm around his waist to try and keep balance while staring down at the floor to make sure you weren’t about to fall over.

At the bottom level is what managed to always ignite a feeling of excitement in you, set ablaze the adrenaline and flames of hardy teenage violence. A mosh pit had formed and the destruction stopped just shy of the stairs. In the air is the heavy scent of leather, sweat, and iron; all of which attacking with the force of animalistic glee. The air feels heavy, like it’s weighing down on your shoulders. Timidly, you steal a glance up at Patrick, who’s managed to get a lit cigarette betwixt his fingers and discard his drink in the time you’d been adhered to his side. He takes a long drag and licks his lips, smoke emulating the carnage of a dragon, if you could compare him to such a beast.

He looks down at you and says something you’re unable to hear over the music, and had it not been for the sheer volume, you’d likely find it to be one of the more enjoyable acts to grace Derry with its presence. His arm unwinds from around your shoulder and he plants a kiss on your forehead, to which has you reeling, before stepping into the pit and leaving you alone.

It feels unnerving, to suddenly be rid of the boy who’d claimed himself the role of your ‘evening security blanket,’ but to suddenly fear the repercussions. Eyes you know are locked on opponents or the evening’s stand feel locked on you, and you feel socially naked at the foot of the basement’s stairs with both hands wrapped around a red solo cup.

You gulp after losing sight of him among the dim room and other black-haired aggressors, taking to maneuvering yourself to a couch sat beside a grandfather clock on the outskirts of the fighting and staring into the lukewarm cup. Sips are taken from it, carefully, while a couple does what you can only describe as practically eating one another’s faces.

As time passes you begin to feel more cramped, not so much that eyes are on you any longer, but more so that the time to leave is rapidly approaching. A brief glance at the clock registers it as 11:50 p.m., and you feel a slight pang in your gut that the time to move is now.

You set the plastic cup on the coffee table in front of you and start off, without much of a care for who would be the poor soul to clean it up. The stairs are ascended quickly, and alarms in your mind begin to go off fervently. Wherever your evening’s chaperone had gone, he wasn’t worth getting potentially arrested for. The kitchen and living room are passed briskly, and while the quick removal of such loud noises is nothing short of disorienting, the sound of approaching sirens is enough to sober you completely.

The yard is left in the dust as you take to a full-sprint down the street, mentally cursing yourself for even coming in the first place. Wherever the authorities were, you knew that potentially crossing paths with them would be a death wish.

You only slow down and exhale when you’re in your car seat, key jammed in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life. Speeding home probably wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you can’t help the lead foot and lady luck allowing you to swing into the driveway with no detection.

Is this true nirvana, you wonder, narrowly escaping the law after a gut feeling in a place you weren’t even meant to be? Whatever the case, you knew sleep would either be impossible to grasp, or come the moment it hit your pillow.

#writing.txt #work: wherever i may roam #patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter imagine #it 2017 #it 2017 fanfiction #bowers gang fanfiction #reader insert

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titusmoody · 3 years

Text

2021 Q2 stuff

Games

Return of the Obra Dinn -- Very different. A great experience to play, it doesn’t use any typical “gamer” skills or knowledge. It also hit on a lot of my personally prefered sensibilities (stories self-contained to ships, non-linear storytelling, mysteries, and meticulous attention to detail)

Kentucky Route Zero -- Even more different. I’m glad I played it for the atmosphere, though it didn’t click with me the way Obra Dinn did. Extremely atmospheric and cool, but also has a strong academic curiosity to it.

DOOM (2016)-- Okay, we’re back to regular video games. Everything about this one seems very carefully crafted. I had a good, mindless time with this one.

Spider-Man -- Not as well-crafted as DOOM, but also less juvenile. I also had a good, mindless time with this one.

Metroid: Samus Returns -- Feels like Metroid. The moment-to-moment combat is different than Super Metriod and Fusion, which is a nice way to keep things from getting stale.

Shadow and Bone -- Sometimes tropes exist because they make for good stories. This show was a good example of that.

Pani Poni Dash -- WTF Japan, in a good way

Princess Tutu -- Much like I felt about Cowboy Bebop, this show was very well-made and I had an easy time appreciating what it was doing, though in the end it’s not the kind of thing that’s really for me

Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid -- Pleasant to watch, mostly lighthearted but could definitely have emotional moments here and there to keep you interested.

Kakegurui -- Shows like this are the reason anime fans are so self-depricating. It was thoroughly trashy, but I’d be lying if I said that the trashiness didn’t lead to a lot of fun.

Love, Chunibyo, and other Delusions -- An excellent comfort-watch. About a high-schooler trying to run away from his cringe-y middle school phase. I definitely have criticisms of it, but I’m also definitely going to watch it again.

Devilman Crybaby -- I swear, Masaaki Uasa takes the most overdone premises and portrays them in such bonkers ways that they become pretty cool. This isn’t one of the best examples of that, but it still works.

Gundam 0080: War in the Pocket -- Part of Gundam’s brand is that it shows the effect of wars on individuals. This is a great small-scale example of that.

She-Ra -- It’s good. The plot kinda meanders and the backstory lore is presented confusingly/unclearly at times. But the central characters are good enough to carry at least a few seasons, and the secondary characters really elevate the whole thing. I was personally very fond of Scorpia as well as the way the writers used Entrapta both in the plot and as a character foil.

Chernobyl -- Second time watching this, it’s definitely a favorite.

Movies

Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again -- You already know what this is like and whether or not you enjoy the sort of thing it is.

Moulin Rouge -- It’s hard to watch Mamma Mia without thinking of this one, so I watched it soon after.

Minari -- My personal reward for being fully vaccinated was to go to the movies by myself. This was a good movie, though overshadowed by the circumstances in which I saw it. I would’ve been very happy to be seeing anything.

My Fair Lady -- An iconic pop-culture touchstone. Not my favorite musical, for sure.

Interstellar -- This movie is in the odd position of currently being my favorite Christopher Nolan movie despite the fact that I don’t like it nearly as much as I liked either The Dark Knight or Memento when I saw those for the first time.

The Perfect Storm -- George Clooney, big wave.

Legally Blonde -- I didn’t hear the term “sitcom” until oddly late in life, and when I heard it, I assumed it meant movies like this where there aren’t a ton of jokes, but the characters are constantly in inherently funny situations. I don’t like this type of humor that much.

Jurassic Park -- A big “moral” of the movie was “don’t trust computers to do anything important” but today it’s hard not to get the message as “never underpay your system administrator” instead.

Apollo 13 -- Pretty good

ET -- I really didn’t like this movie and I don’t quite know what it doesn’t do that Jurassic Park and Indiana Jones do. Imminent danger seem to be part of it, but I don’t think that’s the whole picture.

The Day After Tomorrow -- *shrug* I had fun watching it

Pearl Harbor -- expected it to be bad, it was bad. It was definitely bad in interesting ways, and was almost good a lot of the time.

Die Hard -- I was looking for suspenseful movies with clear character motivation and this fit the description. It was good, though I didn’t like it quite as much as I hoped to.

Star Trek V -- Star Trek is often silly and I just can’t get on board with some of the silliness, like the last part of this movie.

Terminator 2 -- Yeah, I do like suspense. I don’t think I’ll look back on this as a favorite, but I was pretty into it. Moreso than Die Hard.

Cast Away -- Pretty good

Predator -- Somewhere between Die Hard and Terminator 2. I was a bit bored by the end, which ironically was the part that most closely resembled what I was looking for.

Braveheart -- I think romanticising medieval Europe is fun and cool. Unfortunately this movie has some creepy sexual hang-ups as well as rampant “no step on snek” energy that ruin the whole thing.

Redline -- Just a cool looking movie

State of Play -- I forgot the whole plot of this already, but I enjoyed it

Troy -- It’s not as bad as its reputation suggests, though the end does get really over-the-top cheesy

Demon Slayer -- I liked going to the movies by myself so much the first time that I did it again. This time it was in a much more full theater and I was one of very few people over 17. Fun action anime movie, though.

Gladiator -- I’m so disappointed that I didn’t connect to this movie, since over and over I felt like I was very close to loving it. I think the revenge motivation was what ultimately prevented me from really getting into it.

K-19: The Widowmaker -- Hell yeah, extremely tense submarine scenes, that’s exactly what I wanted.

The Manchurian Candidate (2004) -- The movie felt like it wanted its premise to feel plausible, but it really didn’t. Still pretty good, though

The Big Lebowski -- Still not a big fan of this one.

The Naked Gun -- This confirms that my sense of humor has not gotten more refined since age 17 or so. I still thought this was pretty funny.

Dances With Wolves -- Mostly just boring.

Angels and Demons -- Even at age 15 the book’s riddles and clues premise felt a bit too contrived. The movie has the additional disadvantage that verbal explanations are the most boring way to resolve questions, unlike books where words are all you have.

Chinatown -- Meh, a fine detective story but nothing really clicked with me. The director’s life is wild, though. He escaped the holocaust, had his pregnant wife murdered by the Manson family, and is currently a fugitive from justice for raping a 13 year old.

The Core -- Like The Perfect Storm, appealing in the “so bad it’s good” way.

Porco Rosso -- Think the type of character study of Kiki’s Delivery Service, but about a middle-aged man, so it doesn’t resonate with Miyazaki’s audience enough for many people to talk about it.

Uncut Gems -- My second time watching it, it’s definitely a favorite. Between this and A Serious Man, I seem to love extremely stressful movies about mediocre jewish men.

The Manchurian Candidate (1962) -- Interesting to compare/contrast with the other version. I like both

Galaxy Quest -- another movie that fits my personal definition of what “sitcom” should mean. Again, not my favorite type of humor

Fantastic Planet -- Looks like something between the animated sketches in Monty Python and Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Very weird, it personally really worked for me.

Scarface -- I think romanticising organized crime is fun and cool.

In the Heights -- colorful, catchy, happy and fun.

Books

The House in the Cerulean Sea -- a good comfort-read. very simplistic and a little clunky and amateur-ish, but ultimately pretty cute.

There There -- not a comfort-read at all. A super raw look at the modern life of a variety of Native American situations. Very harsh but also interesting.

Six of Crows -- Fine YA fantasy fluff.

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azozzoni · 4 years

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Apparently I lost the ask this prompt came from. Idk what Tumblr did. Luckily, I write everything down (and I’m sorry for taking like 8 months to write this).

Anon: Filo’s thoughts after the cafeteria scene, when he realizes he finds Elia really attractive and tries to find out if this boy is really that straight/ to get to know him better

It was Eleonora’s fault, Filippo decided, that he couldn’t stop wondering about Elia after he’d shown up that day at lunch. He may not have remembered him before, but he certainly did now.

“So,” he said, leaning in Eleonora’s doorway and she didn’t look up from her laptop. “How’s the plan going?”

“Plan?” she repeated, skeptical.

“To set up Elia with my Silvia?” He said it as casually as he could—Eleonora could be annoyingly perceptive and he didn’t want to raise any suspicions about why he cared about how things were going with a couple of high schoolers. He shouldn’t have cared. He should have been above it all.

Eleonora sighed, looking up from her laptop finally. “It’s not. We can’t seem to get them alone together.”

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be,” Filippo said with a shrug. “What do we know about this Elia anyway?”

Eleonora paused, seemingly thinking. Filippo was a little too eager to hear the reply if he was honest with himself.

“Marti seems to see something more in him,” she said at length, “but he’s mostly just immature and loud and impulsive.”

It didn’t sound too bad to Filippo, who was also all of those things.

“So why do you think he and Silvia would even be a good fit?”

“I just want her to get over Edoardo,” Eleonora admitted after a minute, glancing up at him. “Why do you care anyway?”

“I am just trying to make sure he’s good enough for my Silvia,” Filippo assured her, not bothering to mention that he hadn’t been lying when he said Elia was hot. He may or may not have checked out his ass the other day as he’d left too. “May I remind you, you’re the one who told me to talk up this guy I have barely met to my sweet Silvia.”

Rolling her eyes, Eleonora turned back to her laptop. “If you want to know about Elia, you should ask Martino. Maybe a different point of view would help get them together.”

Filippo merely hummed in reply, but he wasn’t thinking of getting Elia together with Silvia, not right now as he pulled up his phone and texted Martino as he turned from the bedroom.

“I’m pretty good at this,” Martino said as he held the battery for Filippo, and Filippo laughed.

“At being a film lackey?”

Martino nodded. “I should consider making this my career.”

“I wouldn’t mind having your pretty face following me around all day, carrying my gear, telling me how wonderful all my shots are,” Filippo said, taking the battery from Martino’s hand and replacing the one in his camera. He’d found this particular spot a few weeks ago, overgrown and covered with colorful graffiti, what looked like ruins on the far side, underneath a roadway. He glanced back at Martino, who had his hands on his hips, gazing around the brush-strewn path. “How are things with Nico?”

“Good.” Martino couldn’t stop his smile as he said it, and Filippo was happy for him, for both of them.

“And this plot to match up Elia and Silvia,” he said slowly, keeping an eye on Martino, but Martino didn’t react except to frown. “Any progress?”

“Elia keeps saying he doesn’t want anything serious, and even though Nico and Gio keep trying to say it doesn’t have to be serious, he doesn’t seem interested.”

“Maybe he’s not,” Filippo said carefully. “Have we considered he might be gay?”

Martino laughed, too long, as though the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “Are you kidding?” he asked finally, wiping tears out of his eyes. “Elia? Gay? He always talks about girls.”

“But not Silvia,” Filippo pointed out, a little annoyed that even the idea of Elia being into guys was laughable. Maybe he had it all wrong—after all, he’d done the ‘falling for a straight guy’ too many times before. “Bisexual people do exist.”

“I know,” Martino said, pausing. “I asked Nico about it once, how he could tell that he wasn’t only into guys or girls, how he… decided, I guess.”

Filippo watched him. “What did he say?”

Martino shrugged. “He said he didn’t choose, that he just knew that he liked me, not because I was a guy but because, well…” He blushed and didn’t go on. Filippo didn’t push him, setting his hand on Martino’s shoulder.

“I’m just saying, there’s got to be a reason Elia isn’t interested in Silvia. Has he hooked up with anyone else this year?”

“Not that I know of,” Martino admitted. “Actually, he hasn’t really even talked about anyone since Gio got together with Sophia. Maybe he’s not over Sophia. I didn’t think he was that into her.”

From the little Filippo had heard from Martino and others, it didn’t seem likely, but Filippo didn’t know well enough to comment.

“Maybe he just needs the right person to come along,” Filippo suggested, focusing his camera on a wall in the distance.

“Well, it’s not going to be Silvia,” Martino muttered, rolling his eyes. “But Luchino is half in love already, so maybe there’s still a shot.”

“I could talk to Elia, if you wanted,” Filippo offered, ignoring the way Martino’s head shot to him, eyebrows up. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to someone you don’t know as well. You did, after all.”

Martino seemed to consider the offer for a minute. In the end, he shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. Nico wants so badly to be a matchmaker.”

Smiling, Filippo shook his head. “Just tell me when and where. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

He was glad when Martino didn’t ask why he was offering because he didn’t have an answer that would satisfy him. He didn’t even have an answer to satisfy himself, but he didn’t stop Martino from texting Elia and suggesting they meet up later.

Martino conveniently received a text from his mom, telling him to come home, about five minutes after they met up with Elia at the bar, excusing himself and tossing a glance Filippo’s way before he left. Martino was smoother than Filippo had thought, turning to smile at Elia, who seemed a little confused at the whole situation.

Elia was cuter than he remembered, shrugging off his jacket and shoving the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows as their coffees were delivered.

“You were out with Marti?” he asked, but Filippo had no desire to talk about Martino.

“Photoshoot,” he said dismissively, setting his elbows on the table as Elia sipped his cappuccino. “He said something interesting, though, about you and Silvia.”

Elia immediately rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair. “Jesus. I don’t know what is wrong with them. I don’t know how many times I have to say I don’t want to date her before they’ll drop it.”

“Maybe if you gave them a reason,” Filippo suggested, and Elia frowned.

“I have. Plenty. She’s squeaky and annoying and obsessed with that damn radio, plus she’s not that hot.”

“I think she’s pretty,” Filippo said, but Elia made a face.

“Well, you’re gay. You can say that.”

“And you can’t?”

“Not without someone taking it to mean I’d be willing to fuck her,” Elia replied, shoving a hand through his hair as he sighed. Filippo got the feeling he was tired of trying to explain himself.

“Okay,” Filippo said easily, smiling at Elia. “You don’t want to date Silvia. Is there anyone you are interested in?”

For a second, Elia didn’t reply, frowning at his cup. When he didn’t reply right away, Filippo sat back.

“I dated a girl once,” Filippo said, and Elia looked up, eyebrows furrowed, as though he couldn’t fathom the idea. “In middle school, so maybe it wasn’t technically dating, but we called it that. It didn’t last long, a few weeks maybe of eating lunch together, sloppy kisses that I can never forget.” He made a face. “But after we broke up, my friends kept asking who I was going to go after next, which girl I liked. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know really, not until I saw Andreas Rossi changing in gym class. It was like a brick to the head.”

Elia was frowning still. “You think I’m gay?”

“No,” Filippo said easily. He wouldn’t dare to presume anyone’s sexuality. “But if you’re confused, sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

“I’m not confused,” Elia said quickly, glancing up at Filippo. “I like girls.” He paused, swallowing. “And maybe I’ve thought about guys.”

It was a start. He remembered how reluctant Martino had been to even admit that he liked a guy.

Filippo smiled at Elia. “It’s not a crime.”

“My parents might disagree,” Elia muttered, but he didn’t elaborate, meeting Filippo’s questioning gaze. “I’m not keeping it from the guys. It’s just, there’s no reason to tell them. It’s not like I’m hooking up with someone.”

“So if you never find a guy, you’re just not going to tell them?” This was so far from the conversation Filippo had hoped they might have when he’d sat down across from Elia. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, that maybe Elia would reveal some secret crush on him.

Elia shrugged in response, pushing the cup around its plate.

“We could always go out,” Filippo suggested, and he realized what it sounded like when Elia’s eyes lifted to his again. “I mean, I could take you out, to a club or something where you could have no pressure. Nobody you know, no one you’ll have to talk to again, no strings.”

Some people would have hated that idea. He knew Martino would have balked at the idea had he suggested something similar last year, but Elia wasn’t Martino. Elia was watching him with a mixture of curiosity and consideration.

“And you’d come with me?” Elia asked after a minute, and Filippo smiled.

“Of course. I’d never let you go into the lion’s den unprotected. Unless you don’t want me to.”

Elia contemplated the question for a minute before he smiled, the first smile Filippo had gotten out of him so far.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “We could do that.”

Not exactly what Filippo had been planning for when he’d sat down, but he’d take it. It was much more important to help Elia than to listen to his own hormones. And if he caught Elia gazing at him later, looking away quickly, he didn’t mention it. There’d be plenty of time to figure that out later.

#skamit #skam italia #my fic #elippo #skamit fic

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romeoandjulietyouwish · 4 years

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My Thoughts on Love, Victor

At first I didn’t like it. The first episode was really weird but as I forced myself to keep watching it grew on me. But overall, I didn’t like it. I just was too invested in the story to stop watching it.

Throughout most of the show, the pacing was always a little off. They would spend too much time on things and then just skip over major things

The relationship between Felix and Lake was really annoying. I never felt like they clicked and I didn’t like any of the scenes focused on them.

There are SO MANY storylines going on at the same time. Victor and Mia, Victor’s pining for Benji, Felix and Lake, Pilar and her teen angst, the parents and their drama, Mia’s dad’s girlfriend and on and on and on

The whole thing just felt rushed to me, like none of their actions had any real weight or consequences.

I also didn’t like that Benji and Victor got together. Call me crazy but I just felt that Benji is more of a sexual awakening for Victor than actual boyfriend material.

It never really felt like Benji reciprocated Victor’s feelings, I mean they tried to hint at it a little, but I think giving Benji a boyfriend kind of threw it off.

I think that this could have been a lot better if they picked a few storylines and didn’t try to cram all of them into 5 hours. If it was just Victor and Mia, Victor pining for Benji, and the parent drama, it would have been a lot better because there would have been time to fully flesh out those stories.

There were a lot of moments that I just felt...weird about:

Episode 6 when Mia was planning on having sex with Victor and then he backed out just left me feeling weird. I didn’t like that everyone was trying to pressure him into sleeping with Mia. Also what Lake said to him when he went up to Mia’s room to apologize was really iffy and sketchy.

Pilar getting mad at Victor for keeping secrets from her, like? Did she really expect her older brother to tell her every detail of his love life?

The fact that Victor lying to his friends and his family about going to New York had zero consequences? No one even questioned it or found out that he went to New York.

Some of the lines with Bram and the roommates in New York felt very weird and I don’t know how to explain it but it felt really unnatural and forced.

As a biromantic woman, I wish that Victor had been bi. It would make a lot of sense and explain why he feels how he does about Mia. It just was really disappointing to see him not even question that he might be bi.

I know this happens in every show or movie about teenagers, but the complete lack of understanding of how high schoolers think and how school in general works is just really frustrating to watch. Along with the over-sexualization of teenage characters, but that’s a topic for another time.

Overall, Love, Victor was really disappointing and just a huge let down.

#list rants #love victor #love victor spoilers

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turning-dreams-into-chaos · 4 years

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New Beginnings (Part 9~ Last Part)

*Not My Gif*

~New Beginnings Master~

Post Date: 1-2-20

Paring: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 2K

~Master~

~Series Master~

It was the middle of the night when you tugged on your denim jacket, walking down the streets of New York with crisp air making your cheeks blush. A buzzing in your pocket caught your attention as you pulled out your phone, smiling at the goofy picture of Peter that popped up.

You swiped to answer the call and put your phone to your ear. “Hey Pete.”

“Hey. Where are you?” You looked around knowing Peter wouldn’t approve of this as you focused back on the phone.

“Um, I’m spending the night at MJ’s.” You lied as Peter sighed into the phone. “Peter? What’s wrong?”

“J. Jonah Jameson keeps calling about an interview.” You stopped walking, the grip on your phone tightened and your jaw locked momentarily.

“That man needs to get a life.” Peter agreed with you before you started moving again. “After my dad died, he kept trying to get me to let him have an interview about taking over Stark industries. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and made up his own story about me freaking out on him.”

On the other line, Peter nodded his head. “I remember that story, Ned showed it to me.”

“I just wish he’d leave you alone after everything. I mean, first he tells the world you’re Spider-Man and then he tries to get the first interview. It’s awful.” Your phone beeped in your ear, letting you know it was time to hurry up your conversation. “Hey Peter, MJ and I are gonna watch a movie. Talk later?”

“Yeah. And Y/N?” You hummed back a yeah as you listened to Peter take a deep breath, undoubtedly smiling. “I love you.”

You joined his smile, your cheeks hurting from the stretch as you whispered back. “I love you too.”

You hung up first, checking your texts before movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention.

“I think we need to talk.” You said into the darkness as you put your phone in your pocket and crossed your arms. There was nothing but silence in the air as two figures stepped out of the alleyway, now barely lit by the flickering of the streetlamps next to you.

“Let’s talk.”

---

You took a deep breath, peaking through the curtain at the reporters talking to camera men or getting their things sorted out. It was your first press conference since your dad and you were one who called it. Peter stood next to you, looking over your shoulder as you turned around.

“Peter, I don’t know if I can do this. This is my dad’s thing, not mine.” You shook your head, letting your eyes close as Peter wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey, you’ll be alright! You’ll be alright. I’ll be right back here watching and you’ll do great.” He tried to comfort you, but you just grabbed his hand.

“You’re going out there with me.” He just stared at you, tipping his head to his side as you grinned.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Trust me?” Peter hesitated as he glanced to the crowd again but when his eyes fell on you again he nodded, trusting you with everything. “Ok, then let’s go.” You took one last shaky breath before pushing the curtain away, feeling the lights of cameras capturing yours and Peters actions. Peters eyes were locked on you, too scared to look anywhere but at you as you stepped up to the podium. You found Pepper and Morgan sitting in the front row as they gave you a thumbs up, making you relax slightly. The crowd quieted down, microphones and cameras preparing to catch every single word.

“I would like to address the rumors surrounding Quentin Beck and Spider-Man’s identity. The videos are fake. The voice recording you heard were made prior to the attack in London. Quentin Beck’s attack. He used the alias Mysterio to deceive me as well as our countries top protectors.” You began as Peter’s eyes widened. You knew lying was risky but you need to make things better.

“Quentin Beck is no one but an old Stark Industries employee fired prior to Mr. Parker’s internship. We believe that Beck was taking revenge on my father’s legacy by attempting to unmask Spider-Man. We believe that he had chosen Mr. Parker based on his new position in my fathers- my company“, whispers and camera flashes spurred across the crowd as you looked to Pepper and Morgan, both beaming at you, “-and his position in my life.” Without much thinking you grabbed onto Peter’s hand, receiving a squeeze from him as he stepped closer. You looked up to him, a smile turning up both your lips before looking back down at your paper and ignoring the bright flashing.

“Mr. Parker on the other hand is no one but a normal high schooler just trying to make it.” You took a steady breath before looking up into the sky, sighing with relief at what you saw. “And as I’m sure everyone can attest, cannot possibly be in two places at once. One of which is by my side and the other is flying above you all right now.”

Everyone gasped, turning towards the flying figure in the sun as they squinted their eyes, trying to get the best photo of Spider-Man. When Spider-Man landed right next to you, you gave him a high five, cameras flashing like crazy as Peter stood next to you freaking out.

“Thank you, no questions.” You spoke into the microphone as the final pictures of the three of you were taken and Spider-Man flew off in the sky once again and Peter and you made your exit off stage.

“That was amazing!” Peter beamed as you both walked down the stairs. As soon as your foot hit the last step, Peter grabbed you by the waist and spun you in the air. You let out a swarm of giggles as you grabbed onto his shoulders, enjoying the love display. Peter put you down and his hand trailed up to your chin, pulling it up for you to look at him. “You’re amazing.” He whispered as you blushed but chose not to hide it and risk losing the sight of Peter’s eyes.

“I try.” You joked before he swept you into a kiss. Happy and the rest of the remaining avengers all filed into the room, a few of them aweing at the sight while Sam started mocking you, Bucky joining in until you glared at them. “Grow up guys.” You told them, sticking your tongue out.

“Alright, Alright.” Sam said putting his hands in the air. “But seriously Y/N, you did good.”

“You were amazing girl.” Wanda pulled you into a bone crushing hug as you laughed, hugging her back. The team all agreed with each other that you had done good, sending away any of the nerves you had about the media believing.

Your phone buzzed as you held up a finger to them all, pulling it out and opening up the news. “Peter. Look.” You clicked on the newest link, one written by J. Jonah Jameson himself with a picture of Peter and Spider-Man up top.

“That was fast.” His voice wavered as you whispered into your ear. You nodded as your eyes darted across the headline.

Spider-Man identity confirmed not Midtown Student, Peter Parker

“We did it.” You mumbled in disbelief as you scrolled through the article. Peter read over your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist and every time he read something relieving, he pulled you closer and buried his nose in your hair.

“No Y/N. You did it.” He corrected as you smiled, looking into his chocolate brown eyes over your shoulder. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips as you smiled into it, only pulling away when you heard your name being shouted.

Morgan came running into the room, Pepper following closely behind as you swung Morgan into your arms.

“You were so good!” Morgan cooed as she wrapped her arms around your neck to hug you. You hugged your little sister, feeling Peter’s hand on your back when you picked her up and held her in your arms.

“Thanks Mo. I’m glad you liked it.” Pressing a quick kiss to her forehead she turned to Peter, her mouth dropping open.

“Peter! How were you in two places at once?!” Morgan asked as the room quieted down. Realization crossing everyone’s faces, even your boyfriends, as you smirked.

Bucky just took a step forward, turning towards the team before looking at the two teenagers in front of him, one who look almost as lost as he did and who with a satisfied smirk on her lips. “Yeah Spidey, how were you in two places?” Peter just raised his brow before crossing his arms and looking at you.

You shrugged, licking your lips. “Well…”

---

You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself and the scene in front of you.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You can change back now.” You told them as Fury’s head dropped in a smirk. Maria just looked at him, eyes wide as you came closer.

“He told me you’d figure it out.” Fury said as you shrugged, pulling your arms closer to your body.

“You’re not the best actors in the world.” You watched as the faces you knew to be Nick and Maria changed to reveal the faces of a pair of Skrulls, Talos and Soren. Smiling you stretched your hand to them. “I’m Y/N. Nice to... officially meet you.”

“So, how did you figure it out?” Soren asked you after shaking your hand, eying you up and down.

“Maria always answers my calls. And Fury would’ve had my ass for storming out of the base the way I did after meeting Mysterio. Figuring you guys were, well you guys, that took some work.” Soren and Talos shared impressed looks. Both a little embarrassed of their mistakes but you let them know they were still pretty good actors, just not for you.

“So why did you call us here Y/N?” Talos asked as he changed back into Fury in case someone saw a pair of aliens on the streets of Queens.

“I need a favor.”

---

“I just reminded Talos that it was his fault your identity was revealed and he agreed to help out.”

No one knew what to say. You figured this all out by yourself.

You did that.

You looked around at the shocked faces, everyone’s jaw dropped open as they stared at you. “You’re amazing.” Peter said as you turned to him, grabbing his hand.

“You already said that.” He just shook his head, telling you he didn’t care as he pulled you in for another kiss. You let out a giggle before pulling away and looking at your family.

“Your dad would’ve been proud of you.” Pepper told you, squeezing your outstretched hand. Your head dropped only slightly but you know she was right.

“Thank you, Pep.”

Happy asked the question on everyone’s mind. “So, now what?”

You hadn’t really thought about that. What was next for you? You took over your father’s company from Pepper, you got the guy you’d been in love with for years, you convinced the world Spider-Man was someone else, you figured out that S.H.I.E.L.D’s most trusted people weren’t themselves. But what now?

You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your blouse as you cleared your throat. “I think- I think, if you all don’t mind, I think I want to un-retire.” You heard Peter’s faint gasp behind you as you turned to look at him with a small smile. “Turns out the world wasn’t done needing heroes.” Happy chuckled, sending you a wink.

“We’d love to have you back Y/N.” The team agreed, everyone coming in for a hug and when it was done Peter grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the group.

“Wanna go for a ride?” Peter whispered as you turned towards everyone, each of them engaged in their own conversation as you nodded. The two of you snuck away, heading out to the roof as Peter slipped on his Spider suit. “Ready?” he asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck before your legs made their way around his waist. He held you closer to him, pulling up his mask to give you a quick kiss.

You rested your head on his shoulder, looking out into the city as you smiled. “Ready.”

And the two of you were off.

A/N: It’s over! It feels weird ending this series, when I started I honestly had no idea where I wanted to go with this, so to have this ending it’s truly luck. I hope you guys like my ending with this and aren’t mad at it!

Please tell me what you thought of this series!

***Reblogging with NB tags***

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @sadn0va @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys

Peter: @laic2299 @danielabetancourth @darktwistydiamond @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @missmulti

Marvel: @hahaboop @laic2299

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker headcanon #peter x reader #peter parker #spiderman far from home #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman x stark!reader #spiderman #spiderman fic #new beginnings #chapter 9 #last part

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steve0discusses · 4 years

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Yugioh S4 Ep 18 pt 1: California Public Transit can Take you to Hell, but it Can’t Take You to the Freakin Mall

Apparently Tumblr did an update, joining the throng of techie websites that chose a godawful very open and round sans fontface that creates a hell ton of white-space.

Aaaaaa

Not quite sure why every website feels like they must make all websites look like a mobile site. I do enjoy having a dark mode now and that’s nice, but man...I miss the bold font we used to have for titles on text files. Really told you “this is a title.”

Not like it matters since y’all are reading this on my own blog where I have control of how it looks, but man...that awful typeface where there kerning is nice for short stuff but just...too wide for serious reading. It’s everywhere I go.

And speaking of bad kerning, like I saw this ad for a gym that was called “49ERSFIT” (because that’s our football team, in case you don’t know) but the kerning was reallllllly narrow so I looked at it and all I could see was “49ERSHIT” and like...I can’t unsee it. I can never unsee that.

Anyways, enough about how I’m haunted by font, lets talk about Yugi, who used to be haunted by Yami, up until he died this morning. So now Yami is just kicking it all on his own for a total of....maybe a few hours now, and has already destroyed an entire Caltrain, and whatever ecosystem was in this lake.

Seto Kaiba would be so proud.

Somewhere in the Ocean, or over the ocean, or...wherever the hell Atlantis is, Darts has decided that Pharaoh is NOT dead after all, and sends Rafael to finish the job, because youknow--Darts won’t move his lazy ass until all of his lackeys are fully dead. It’s an anime.

And then we have a jump cut to this tent scene. I don’t know how much time has passed. It’s suggested it’s enough time to fully sleep. So...a full day?

And Yugioh pulls the most unexpected plot turn out of their pocket because why not, it’s Season 4. This season is just about “how many strings can I pull and get away with” (I mean have you SEEN the Death Count lately?)

........

there’s a lot of things I expected out of this kids show.

This was never one of those things I thought I would see with my eyes--one of those things I could cap with my prt scr button, and one of those things I could paste into Photoshop and be like “wow this is really a thing that was made canon.”

Like for how long I had to cap this photo of Yami and Tea sharing a bed together, the people who made this show, spent THAT much longer having to animate it. What is just mindboggling about Yugioh, is that no one on the entire team was like “oh did we just...” and this set-up happens--and they treat it like NOTHING is happening.

Like, how is that humanly possible to write your flagship pairing into the same bed and then just not even recognize it? Like I get how it’s physically possible, I just watched it, but as a writer, as an artist, as someone who tells stories, how is it possible to resist poking fun at this?

Like the RESTRAINT on the Yugioh team, y’all.

(read more under the cut)

I hope you enjoyed this trope that flashed on the screen for all of like...a minute. Lets throw a giant dog at it.

So fun fact, the Egyptian god that is shaped like a wolf is Wepwawet. He’s best known for guiding people through the underworld, which fits nicely into this episode. But, did the writers know that? Is that why Skye is here? To be a reference to Wepwawet? I have no idea. But this dog is here, and every time his eyes look directly into the camera they are drawn--a little bit wrong. Not as bad as when they drew horses, but wow they did not really enjoy drawing this dog’s eyes when it’s straight on.

As for Chris and old man in this episode, I don’t know where they got this outfit style from. It sure ain’t traditional Ohlone. It’s...I mean it’s what happens when you don’t do your research, honestly. And I get the sense that these two aren’t supposed to be any Native American tribe as recent as Ohlone, and might be Atlantean from things they say later in this episode, in regards to cards and the spirit realm or whatever--but uh...

...where did these outfits...come from? I just want to know their research. Chris has a 1920′s hat for some reason. The old man has a staff with poofy bits on it. He dresses more like a 1960′s hippie than he does an indigenous person. Questions. I have questions.

Chris leads us outside to where this old biblical-looking character is collecting all of Yugi’s dropped cards. No idea where Weevil’s went, including the card of his that currently contains his soul. Probably underneath that Caltrain somewhere.

What does Kaiba make these cards OUT OF?

Yami has decided, after this card shunned him once, that maybe it’s time to remove it from his deck.

(Pretty sure he did not decide to remove the Orichalcos, however, which is still in there, as we see later. Thing is, I just realized that Oricalchos would basically be Yugi’s soul, right? So maybe he just keeps it around for company? Takes it out occasionally and waves at it?)

Iron Heart kind of seems like that type of old guy who used to be a hippie and now teaches Physics to High Schoolers. I say this because I’ve had a couple of teachers a lot like Iron Heart where like you’d look at them and it’d be like “Yo you have to be like 600 years old, but like, all you talk about is all the drugs you did during the Hippie Era, how are you even still ALIVE?”

Speaking of people that shouldn’t be alive (although unlike my physics teacher, this guy is deffo dead...)

And then just completely out of no where Yami demands a Spirit Journey.

Like what the hell, Yami? That’s like...a crazy blunt assumption to make. Mind you, if I had asked my High School Physics teacher for a spirit journey, he would have had a lot of stories for me. He regularly told us that he could kick the ceiling (but couldn’t do it right now because he had to go to his special chiropractor first and get the right medication for that.)

Sorry my bro also had this Phsyics teacher and he just told me that he witnessed this 70+ year old man kick the ceiling and like...I don’t know if he’s lying. Either way, that is an incredible chiropractor.

And then, adjust your seat belts folks, because then this happens,

WOW!

WOW THAT’S A LOT OF LORE!

WOW HELL IS MY BACKYARD!

LITERALLY HELL BACK THERE!

Wow. Maybe that’s why California is on fire so often, amiright?

Man. In the Yugioh Universe 1.) The Loma Prieta Earthquake never happened so the Embarcadero is still multilevel 2.) The Bay Area industry got completely wiped out by Pegasus/Darts/Kaiba and is a literal wasteland 3.) The Caltrain actually goes fast 4.) Hell/Spirit Purgatory is located somewhere between the bedroom communities of San Jose and Millbrea.

The Yugioh Alternate California Universe is kind of awesome.

Ah, welcome to Yosemite, now conveniently placed in South Bay.

It also has Hell for some reason.

And then Yugioh decided to use a background from some other anime to save costs.

Speechless, I’m absolutely speechless.

This is a good season, I don’t know what some of y’all were complaining about.

Anyway, I split this one into two because it felt like...too long for one update, but the other one will be hopefully up this weekend, that’s right--I’m getting back in to the swing of things. Sort of. Kind of.

but anyways, if you just got here, this is a link to read these in chrono order from the beginning.

#yugioh #Yu-Gi-Oh #ygo #yami #yugi muto #tea gardner #darts #hell for some reason #california #some trippy old guy who looks stoned as hell #and some random girl who has a very large dog and a bowler hat #S4 #Ep18

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wardencommanderrodimiss · 4 years

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Witches, Chapter 28: Themis school festival, redux. Nobody dies but everyone is depressed, up to and including yours truly, the author.

[Seelie of Kurain Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

[Witches Chapter Masterlist] [ao3]

----

“I guess I should’ve learned my lesson the other day about your sense of timing,” Apollo says.

“You could’ve paid for a taxi,” Athena says. “Like you did the other day. You had options! You chose to accept a ride from me!”

“You could’ve learned your lesson from the other day, too, and not been late,” Apollo says.

“Hey, it’s not late unless the trial starts without me, or I get to the office after a client or Mr Wright has shown up.”

“Is that what we’ve expanded the rules to be now?” Apollo asks.

Themis stands quiet and empty, and cold besides. Even the campus itself seems more battered and worn than it was a few days ago; the wind has torn loose or knocked down a number of the posters and signs planted along walkways and on building walls, and no one has bothered to gather any of them. Athena picks up a crumpled, out-of-date advertisement for the mock trial and shoves it in her pocket until they find a garbage can.

“You wanna just wander around?” she asks. “We’ll find everyone after the mock trial and see who won.”

She had been so insistent on wanting to watch the mock trial the other day, but they’ve wrung every last surprise out of Juniper’s script and Apollo, at least, has no particular desire to head into the lecture hall and relieve some of the most stressful bits of their past two days in court. The photograph of Courte posed as the body for the mock trial autopsy report, and days later a victim for real. The arrow stabbed into her side, not merely held there by her own hand. “Sure.”

On the sidewalk out toward the dining hall, some enterprising student with colorful chalk scrawled INVESTIGATE ALL ADMINISTRATION NOW. “I guess Mr Wright was right,” Athena says. “They won’t be able to bury this scandal this time.”

“Gonna be a hell of a school year from here on out,” Apollo says.

“I wonder how Hugh’s doing,” Athena says. “I believe he didn’t know his grades were bought, of course, but I’m not sure all his classmates are going to believe him. And I bet some of them are gonna be pretty angry about it, and take it out on him.”

“Yeah.” Though Hugh’s attitude probably hasn’t made him many friends already, besides Robin and Juniper. He might be used to disdain from his classmates, not that it will make it any easier. High schoolers are cruel. And adults can be just as petty, so there’s not really ever any reprieve. Hopefully he can come back from this; hopefully he tells his parents to go to hell for it, and hopefully Robin and Juniper stick by him.

Chalk writing in another corner of campus reads WHO ELSE IS LYING? “I guess it’s probably equally possible that Means was or wasn’t the only person at the school involved,” Apollo says. “Like Mr Wright said, it depends on how the process of changing grades works.”

“It’s funny,” Athena says. “When he gets talking like that and it’s all - just seems disjointed and irrelevant, but then there’s actually buried in there that’s important.” She goes quiet, watching the trees bend in the wind, and she skips forward and stomps on a leaf blowing across her path. “When I first met Mr Wright I had no idea who he was - like, I knew all about Phoenix Wright, but I had no way of connecting this guy I’d just met who was like, weirdly chill about me being a kid who wanted to investigate crime scenes, to, y’know, the famous Phoenix Wright.” Apollo nods numbly, remembering his first time meeting Phoenix, and all of the twists and turns his opinion of the man took in one day. “He wasn’t what I expected. He’s still not what I expect.”

“He’s got a way of surprising you,” Apollo says. It’s the kindest, most truly honest thing he can say. He likes Phoenix, really, he does - he admires him still, sometimes. He’s also one of the most frustrating people Apollo has ever had the misfortune of knowing.

Athena laughs suddenly. “Man, can you imagine if Hugh wins the mock trial?” she asks. “I would love to be able to sit in on the lecture that Mr Wright is supposed to give. He’ll probably say something bonkers two minutes in and then get stuck having to explain all of his extremely niche life advice.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Hugh says.

The classroom is a small one, on the second floor of the main building; Phoenix had no instructions on where his lecture is to take place, and no one seemed to be around to ask, so with Hugh trailing silently behind him Phoenix poked his head into every other room they passed until he found one with chairs that look comfortable enough.

“The terms are that the winner of the mock trial gets a special lecture.” Phoenix seats himself in a chair and drags another one over to kick his feet up into. Special lectures are probably better if they’re informal. “So unless it was your doppelganger who won the mock trial, here you are, the winner, and here I am, the…”

The teacher. God, why did he ever agree? Why did he ever think he could teach anyone anything?

Hugh flinches. Great start, Phoenix: mock the kid you’re teaching. “That was - that was so stupid of me,” Hugh says, “stupid like me, as stupid as everything else that I—” He puts his head in his hands. One of them is still bandaged heavily. “That I said that the People of the Hills are - creatures, and criminals, and I was just saying things but Juniper is one of them and I - she just has so many reasons to hate me now because of all the stupid things I’ve done!”

“You don’t believe what you said there, about the fae?” Phoenix asks.

Hugh jerks his head up, wild-eyed. “I was just saying things,” Hugh repeats, clutching the side of his neck. “I just wanted to say something that would convince Prosecutor Blackquill, and I figured, if he’s not one of them he’s close to it and he’s a criminal, so - I’m just afraid that Juniper might think that, if I had known this about her - that she’d think if I’d known she wasn’t human then I wouldn’t have wanted to protect her. And that’s not true at all. She’s my friend. She and Robin are both - I mean I’m surprised, sure, but they’re still Juniper and Robin.”

Phoenix nods. “Then you tell them that. You tell Juniper this doesn’t change anything. Tell Robin the same, too, just to make sure she knows. But you’re still wearing your friendship band, and they still are too. You made it through suspicions of murder with that friendship intact - this is just smaller stuff you’ve gotta work out now.”

“Thank you,” Hugh says quietly. His head sinks again. “But I still shouldn’t be here. The mock trial is for the students at the top of the class, and I’m not. It should have been someone else, not me! They should have figured out who and let them participate, not me! And I only won because I watched your two lawyers win and I borrowed all their strategies and theories! I basically cheated! Just like I tried to cheat by looking at the script and—” He waves his bandaged hand before grabbing at his hair with it again. “I shouldn’t ever have been in this mock trial!”

“Perhaps not,” Phoenix says. “Or maybe, if you didn’t think you were good to go, getting unearned hundreds, you could’ve been buckling down and learning and learning how to study better.” Hugh shifts his hands so that he can look at Phoenix, while still hanging his head like a kicked puppy. “If you weren’t coasting through on confidence, and maybe with your determination - because I can see you are determined to become a lawyer, just like a lot of kids I’ve known, don’t try and object to that - maybe you could’ve been best in your class if you knew your failings and knew to work with them and around them. We’ll never know now, but it could have been possible.”

“No it wouldn’t,” Hugh mumbles. “I’m an idiot, and I shouldn’t be here, and you don’t understand that.”

Phoenix laughs. He can’t help it. He doesn’t mean to - this is the side of him that he tries to keep from the public eye now, tries to keep from Athena, wishes he could’ve kept from Apollo - but he laughs anyway. Hugh’s not wrong that he’s a bit of an idiot. He’s just coming to the wrong verdict from that fact. “Hugh, I’m giving you permission to forgive yourself for all the stupid things you’ve said this week, because that is the stupidest thing you ever could’ve said.”

“Huh?” His bitter laugh, and his sudden sharp words, have startled Hugh into sitting bolt upright. “What do you even think you’re talking about?”

“I’m Phoenix Wright, nice to meet you,” Phoenix says, extending his hand, and unsurprisingly, not getting a handshake in return from Hugh, who appears even more confused. His eyes dart toward the door, considering whether to run, whether Phoenix is crazy and even worth talking to. “Tell me what you know about me, Phoenix Wright.”

Hugh shakes his head. “You’re a brilliant lawyer. You’ve had a lot of celebrity clients - Will Powers, Max Galactica, Matt Engarde. You’ve defended famous legal figures - Lana Skye, the Miles Edgeworth. You - you’re a genius, you’re a legend. Professor Means had us study so many of your cases and your strategies, how you pulled off every crazy victory. I can’t even - begin to - to compare, or to—”

“Stop circling around it and tell me what you know about me,” Phoenix says. “The thing everyone knows about me and avoids bringing up around me.”

Hugh blinks. He doesn’t say anything. He scratches his neck. He adjusts the bandage on his hand. Phoenix brings his feet to the floor and leans forward, staring Hugh in the eyes. “I was disbarred for double the years that I’ve been an active lawyer. Half of the legal world of Los Angeles is still convinced that I framed Kristoph Gavin twice. That is the first thing you think of when you think of Phoenix Wright, isn’t it?” Hugh freezes, sitting there like a statue. “Whether or not Means told you that was something to admire about me, using forged evidence, that’s still the first thing you think about me.”

Finally, Hugh nods. “He said it was a lesson about how you have to be careful,” he says. “How dirty prosecutors will use any tricks they can to trap you.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I figured,” Phoenix says. “Wrong lesson, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. I did use falsified evidence, but I wasn’t the one that falsified it. Actually, the lesson is still about being careful, honestly.”

“Like when Professor Means gave me the audio tape that he made,” Hugh says glumly.

“Exactly like that,” Phoenix says. Hugh stares at the floor. Phoenix sits back and drops his head against the back of the chair. “In all honesty, Hugh, I can’t tell you if you should or shouldn’t be here. That decision is yours, whether you want to stay or go. It’s not going to be easy - not, I’m not talking about - okay, the Bar isn’t easy. I’ve taken it twice, I know. But everything you do - this bribery scandal, your grades, most people aren’t going to care whether you knew or didn’t know, if it was your parents or you. They really won’t care. This is going to be attached to you for the rest of your life - wherever you go from here, whatever your career becomes, whatever you do. You will always have this blemish on your name. You will never get away from it.”

Phoenix Wright, attorney, asterisk.

Hugh’s shoulders slump even lower.

“It has to be your decision, whether being a lawyer is something you want strongly enough to spend your career fighting past this perception of you. I can’t decide that for you.”

“You decided that for you, then,” Hugh says. “You decided it was more important than everything that people say about you.”

Phoenix hesitates. Did he? Or did Edgeworth decide that for him - or did Phoenix decide that Edgeworth was more important than everything that people say about Phoenix? “What I can tell you is that you’re not the only person struggling with - you’re not the only one who’s got to live with past mistakes defining you, however you’ve grown past that. And I’m not your only company, either.”

Is this a damning indictment of the state of their legal system, or just a statement of the very bad luck of everyone Phoenix and Edgeworth have ever met?

“Like Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth - if you know anything about the trials in which I defended him and Prosecutor Skye, you know what his reputation was. I know two brilliant prosecutors forever marred by sharing a name with a father who committed unforgivable crimes.” And Sebastian shares this exact schooling situation with Hugh, too. “And of course, there’s another brilliant prosecutor who’s here at this school today who has to share his name with all the wrongs his brother did.”

And share a face, too. Doppelgangers.

Hugh stares back down at his feet, his hands tightly gripping his neck, his elbows pulled together in front of his chest. “I think,” he says weakly, just barely peering up at Phoenix over his glasses. “I think - I still want to be an attorney. Even if I have to start over. Even if this is the first thing everyone thinks of when they hear my name.” Dropping his arms, he sits up straighter. “Juniper and Robin and I all promised that we were going to help make the legal system better. I still have to help them. And I want to be able to be like Ms Cykes and Mr Justice, winning honestly and finding the truth. I want to be as good as they are.”

A lump rises in Phoenix’s throat. Pride, and shame. They’re damn good kids, and what is he? Setting them loose because if he keeps away he might not repeat that laundry list of mistakes he made with Apollo with Athena. (Might. No guarantees. Will probably screw up in new terrible ways instead.) Keeping secrets from them, carefully skirting around the edges of lies.

“I’m glad,” Phoenix says. “Face it head-on. It won’t be easy, but I hope you’ll find it’s worth it.”

“So Hugh won, then,” Athena says.

When the crowd starts spilling out of the main building, they determine the mock trial has ended and force their way upstream through the students back to the lecture hall, where they find Robin and Myriam have lingered. “He did!” Robin says, without a shred of disappointment. She’s practically bouncing as she said it. “I can tell he learned a lot from you, man! And how much ass you kicked yesterday! And I mean,” she continues, giggling, “I can’t quite pull off Prosecutor Blackquill’s thing. I’ve gotta learn to be scary!”

“I don’t think you need to do that,” Apollo says. “I think you should stick with your strengths.” Whatever those are. Pottery, and loud shouting. Apollo doesn’t know about the former, but the latter is a valid, tried-and-true tactic and a proud tradition.

“Oh! Thena! Hi!” Juniper emerges from the audio booth, her arms full of the blue and white fabrics of her costume. “You made it! I have to run now though. Since he doesn’t have to teach a lecture to Robin, Prosecutor Gavin thought it would be good to use the time for extra practice.” Hefting her costume up further in her arms, her voice lowers and she reluctantly adds, “Which is good because I didn’t practice last night even knowing I’d have to sing today.”

“Understandable,” Apollo says. “I was exhausted last night, and I wasn’t the one on trial.”

“But you and Thena were doing all the work.”

“Don’t worry so much,” Athena says to Juniper. “You’re gonna do great, I know it!”

“Oh, and if Prosecutor Gavin starts to get snippy with you, don’t worry about it being your fault,” Apollo says. “That’s just how he gets when it comes to performances. Turns into a prissy diva, but don’t let it get to you.”

“O-oh, okay.”

Apollo very suddenly gains a certain clarity that tells him that his warning is only going to stress Juniper out more. Well, shit.

“Prosecutor Gavin, really?” Robin asks, watching Juniper scurry off and the last stragglers empty out of the lecture hall. “He seems so calm cool and collected!”

“Yeah, Trucy and I once thought that, too,” Apollo says, mostly to Athena, who was absently nodding along with Robin’s statement. “And then we learned better.”

Myriam pulls one arm back within her box and produces a notepad and pen, which she begins scribbling on. Does she have a storage pouch within there for her journalistic tools? “Are you writing that down?” Apollo asks. “Don’t write that down.”

“You can do so much better than being a trashy tabloid reporter!” Robin says.

Myriam hisses like a disgruntled cat. “But it’sss what I’m good at!”

“So I guess it’s just us for the moment, then?” Athena asks. “Where are we headed next? What’s there to do at a school festival, anyway?”

“You’ve never been to one?” Robin asks. She marches off toward the doors and waves for everyone to follow her. “There’s lots of food, for one, and I am starving, so I think that should be our first priority.”

“I skipped high school,” Athena says. “Or - I guess I sort of speed through it. I didn’t take the time to do much but study law and psychology.”

“Really?” Robin asks. “I figured you went to some other school like ours! Not just went on your own like - wasn’t that lonely? Or boring? Forget what my parents want, if I’d been trying to do this all alone without Juniper and Hugh, I for sure would’ve quit already!”

“Lonely?” Athena repeats, frowning and then twisting her mouth to the side. “No, I guess I never really felt lonely, since I was - I knew this was something that I wanted to do and I needed to do and I wasn’t going to let anything stop me. It never really crossed my mind, that I was doing it alone.” She smiles, a little sadly. “And then eventually I met Mr Wright, and Prosecutor Edgeworth, and then I knew I definitely wasn’t alone anymore. I had people I could ask all my important questions of!”

Envy coils tight in Apollo’s chest and he tries to strangle it. Just be glad for Athena, he tells himself. Be glad for her that she’s not had an intimidating boss she was afraid to ask too many questions of, who turned out to be a murderer. Be glad for her that she’s had Apollo also here to help, instead of just relying on a fifteen-year-old with no legal aspirations.

“You’re so lucky,” Robin sighs. “Not a single one of the prosecutor teachers here has any force of personality what-so-ever. That’s why we got sucked into the Courte-slash-Means cults of personality too. What are we gonna do, care at all about our own professors? Puh-lease!”

“Maybe going forward you shouldn’t go making cults of personality around people who might be fallible,” Apollo says.

Myriam hisses. “Ss-seems unlikely. It’s-sss how people are.”

“But being aware, you can definitely change it, right?” Athena asks.

“No,” Myriam says. Athena’s mouth flaps in abject confusion. So much for expecting some wisdom or a moment of self-reflection out of these kids.

Myriam has begun to explain to Robin that she doesn’t actually know who any of the prosecution course’s professors are.

Even now that it is filled with activity, the campus still holds a subdued energy. Athena’s head swivels in every direction, toward every conversing group they pass. The emotions must be overwhelming to hear, and when they stop for a moment here and there, Apollo can properly people-watch, and even only hearing small snippets of the conversation, flickers of red flare up across his vision. A hand clutching a phone tightly while arguing with a classmate, a bouncing knee or a fingernail chewed, Apollo isn’t listening and doesn’t want to listen - he doesn’t want to hear anyone say that Means was framed or Juniper isn’t innocent, doesn’t know if it will happen but wants to take himself as far away from the chances of it as he can - and still. Still he notices. Is he getting better at this? A stronger sight? He doesn’t want to be better at it. He doesn’t want to know if he isn’t watching for it.

He wants to be normal when the case is over, but that doesn’t happen. Not at the Wright Anything Agency.

Hugh carries himself differently now. Even with the mock trial win under his belt, the arrogance he held himself with is gone. The realization that he wasn’t a genius clearly hit hard - a gut-punch of an attitude adjustment - but Apollo hopes he can learn humility from this. Maybe there’s a certain relief in no longer pretending. Everyone knows. Everything about all three of them - Hugh, Robin, Juniper - is out in the open now.

(And then there’s still Myriam, within the box, and Phoenix’s blue eyes piercing through the cardboard shell.)

“Trucy called, said she’ll be coming around soon.” Phoenix leans up against the side of the building, his suit jacket folded over one arm. “I’ll probably catch up with you kids later, but I won’t hang around now and cramp your style, don’t worry.” He reaches out and grasps Hugh’s shoulder. “Hugh, very nice to meet you. Good luck.”

“Yeah,” Hugh says. “Thanks for - er.” He looks at everyone else standing there. “Um. Thanks.”

“Now go have some fun,” Phoenix says, waving them off. “You all deserve it, now shoo. And oh, Apollo, if I don’t get the chance, tell Klavier I say hi, when you see him.”

Apollo waits for him to toss the magatama over, but he doesn’t. Maybe he forgot it, or maybe he figures that since he’s got a performance, a whole crowd to be watching, this is one time that Klavier won’t disappear.

As the late afternoon wears into evening, heavy clouds gather, the bright hues of the sunset reaching out from behind their dark masses paint the exposed sky. The chill in the air drops to cold, and Apollo wonders if he’s the only one who notices, the only one whose teeth are chattering - shit, he’s thinking about Means’ teeth again, and if in the long run this haunts him more than an actual fucking yokai trying to kill him that’s gonna be some sad sort of funny. (Ask Athena about the psychology of that.) No one else says anything about being cold. Too excited to notice, and Apollo, at a frankly normal level of anticipation, is the only one shivering. The only one with an issue for any reason with the decision to camp out a spot not far from the stage, long before the concert starts.

Trucy finds them there, and tells them she would have forced them to stake their claim if they hadn’t - Apollo negotiated their location out from under the scaffold-mounted speakers, and that’s more kindness to his ears than he expected they’d be willing to give. The stage lights rise, the screaming begins, and Apollo braces himself.

The show is shorter, and much less flashy, than at Sunshine Coliseum, and that suits him perfectly. Out in the open air, the sound dispersed easily, and even at its peaks the music is a tolerable volume. Phoenix only shows up during the penultimate song. The friendly hand he has extended to Klavier does not reach his band, or his music. Apollo can’t blame him - he still isn’t a fan. Sure, some of it - a lot of it - is catchy, but that doesn’t make it suddenly to his tastes. Or even good. Gavin is talented at what he does, which is making entertaining songs, though again, fine art they are not.

(Trucy always tells him he protests too much. Apollo tells her she has no idea what she’s talking about, shut up.)

When the rest of the Gavineers disappear offstage, silence hangs suspended over the crowd, the briefest breath of respite, the last echoes of screams and applause bouncing faintly off of the surrounding buildings. Klavier remains alone under the spotlights, radiant in the blinding white lights, and stepping away from the microphone, he waves Juniper up beside him. In her stage gown, she practically glows, the luminescent exterior of her cloak shining as the fabric swirls with her every movement. Trucy gasps and smacks Apollo’s arm. Phoenix glances over at them and his mouth turns up in a wry smile.

Juniper doesn’t sound like Lamiroir, and in Apollo’s not-very-musically-inclined opinion, she doesn’t sound like she’s trying to sound like Lamiroir either. That seems the better choice: no one else can ever sound like Lamiroir, so there’s no reason to invite the comparison more than necessary. Without a piano backing, right from the start the song already has such a different feel that it further dissuades the comparison. One thing for certain: the shy girl they met earlier this week has a hell of a voice, when she gets to using it. And Apollo joins as enthusiastically in the raucous applause as everyone else.

When the last notes fade out into the dusk, Juniper ducks her head for an immediate retreat. Klavier doesn’t let her; he springs up and catches her hand before she goes far, swinging his arm up and raising hers high. He waves to the crowd, motioning upward, and the cacophony swells with him. “Themis!” he shouts, leaning into the microphone, his voice still barely rising over the cheers. “One more time for your very own Juniper Woods!”

Athena and Robin are definitely trying to outdo each other as the loudest, most supportive friend. After a moment, Hugh drops his veneer of sophistication and joins in. Trucy slaps Apollo on the arm again, grinning wickedly, and starts a countdown on her fingers for the two of them to show up their friends. Athena, laughing as she does, claps her hands over her ears and yells something back at them that is drowned out in the rest of the noise. She shoves Trucy, and Trucy hits Apollo in the back, trying to use them as a wedge to shove their way up through the crowd to the stage. This maneuver sees limited success. Instead they are forced, as is everyone else, to wait, slowly shuffling to the stage for autographs or to scream love confessions or whatever fans of bands do, Apollo doesn’t know. The only other concert he’s ever been to had a murder at it.

“Junie!” Athena squishes herself up against the side of the stage, stretching herself up to her friend, who crouches down to take Athena’s hand. “That was amazing! You were amazing!”

Juniper laughs nervously. Her face is pink, and that might be embarrassed anticipation of the compliments that her friends are going to lavish upon her head, and it might also be the exhilaration and the hot stage lights. “Thank you, Thena.”

“Your voice!” Robin gushes. “You have the most wonderful voice, Juniper! I can’t believe it! Except of course I totally can, because it’s you!”

Juniper ducks her head into her knees, her hood falling entirely over her face. She mumbles something, muffled by the fabric and all the other excited clamor. “Ah, look at you, lucky Fräulein, and your little gang of groupies out to support you.” Klavier leans over her shoulder, grinning down at them, his hair tumbling in messy sweaty curls around his face. Apollo hates him just on principle, just for the sake of it. “I see everyone made it.” He sweeps his hand back through his hair, pushing away all of the loose stray hairs stuck to his forehead.

“Groupies?” Juniper echoes in confusion, lifting her head.

“Groupies!” Athena repeats happily. “Junie’s groupies!”

“Ah,” Juniper says, and she tumbles backwards out of her crouch to sit on the stage, looking up at Klavier. “Do - do you need help? Is there anything I can do to get everything put away?”

Klavier shakes his head. “No need, but thank you. We have a system.” He straightens back up, looking over the stage, and his bandmates also assailed by the crowd. “Short a man, now,” he adds darkly, “but easier to do it ourselves than try to bring someone in. And besides, with this crowd, it will be quite a while before we’re even able to break away from the greeting to do anything else. You go spend some time with your friends, Fräulein. Get some rest - it’s been quite the week.”

Juniper inches to the edge of the stage and Athena offers a hand to her to help her down. “It was very nice to get to sing with you, Prosecutor Gavin,” she says. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again in better circumstances.”

“One hopes,” Klavier replies. “Until then!” He steps back, with a jaunty wave and a wink. “The rest of my fans await me, ja?”

He bounds back across the stage, leaving Apollo without the chance for a word. “He’s kind of a douchebag, isn’t he?” Hugh says. That’s rich, coming from him.

Juniper shakes her head. “He’s actually kind of sweet,” she says. “Though he is also a bit…” She trails off, glancing to Apollo for help, obviously remembering the warning he gave her earlier.

“Of a diva?” Trucy chimes in. “High-strung? Perfectionist? High-strung perfectionist diva?”

“Er,” Juniper says, eyeing Trucy in puzzlement. “Yes? But um, I’m sorry - who are you?”

Juniper is something of a celebrity among her classmates now, for the good and the bad - the group of them with her in tow can barely make it one step before someone else assails her with a question about what being a defendant was like, or compliments on her singing. Making their way free of the stage area, away to somewhere quieter where they’ll all have room to breath, is a long, laborious process, and all the more difficult when Juniper’s glowing robe lights her up even between the scattered pools of lamplight. Myriam is the first to come up with an idea; she helps Juniper shrug off the cloak and bundles it up into a tight ball and brings it under her box with her, freeing them to escape under cover of darkness.

“So how long do we have to be friends before we get to see your face?” Robin asks Myriam. They’ve commandeered a picnic table on the edge of campus, piled with all the foodstuffs that Athena and Robin and Trucy managed to snatch from wherever they passed. “I bet you’re really pretty!”

The crunching beneath the cardboard box abruptly stops. Myriam had relinquished her hold on Juniper’s cloak, not wanting to get crumbs on it, and Athena currently wears it inside-out to accentuate her usual yellow style with some extra, luminescent, yellow. “No,” Myriam says. “I’m - I’m not. You don’t want to sssssee.”

Does she go to class with a box over her head, too? Or does Robin just not have any classes with her? “Myriam, look,” Juniper says. In the dark, next to Athena, she looks yellow, but she stretches out her hand over the table and asks, “Does someone have a light?”

Apollo is the first to get his phone out; under white light, Juniper’s skin is clearly green, a light, soft green, healthier than the other shades she showed in the detention center. Her fingers don’t have claws but her nails are white, like they were polished, and particularly shiny. In her white ruffled gown, her shoulders bare - she isn’t cold, of course she isn’t, Klavier doesn’t get cold either - and her wavy hair loose, she appears to Apollo how he might imagine a nymph of Greek myth. A tree spirit. (Juniper Woods - what a name.)

“We’re all a bit—” Juniper shrugs and touches the pointed tip of her ear. “It’s okay. Even if you don’t want to, or whenever you do.”

Myriam hisses wordlessly, but nothing about it sounds like a threat or maliciousness. Just an acknowledgement that Juniper is speaking to her. “We’re all a biiiiit weird,” Robin adds cheerily. “Maybe not these lawyers” - she waves a disapproving finger at Apollo and Athena - “but us Themis kids! And that is cool, I will have us know!”

If she had any idea of how fundamentally weird and fae the Wright Anything Agency actually is—

“Ah, um, Juniper,” Hugh says. He has been silent most of the day, alternating between intently watching the conversation go by, and zoning out so far that Robin kept count of how many times she could say his name before he would react. (Record: eight.) “There was something that I’ve been meaning to say to you.”

“Huh?” Juniper must at least suspect what is coming, with that fearful look in her wide red eyes. She’d heard that rumor too, and Myriam starts upright with a soft thwap as her hand hits the inside of her cardboard box.

“Juniper, can - can we still be friends? Best friends, the way we all were?”

“Huh?” Athena asks.

“That’sss not—”

“Hugh?” Juniper asks.

“When I won,” he says, “I was going to tell you that I’m not a genius at all, and that I’m actually sort of twenty-five, but that all came out at the trial, so I just have to ask now if - if we can still be friends, if you still even want to be friends, or if there’s all these stupid things I’ve said, and done, not knowing, and that’s why you never told us this about yourself—”

“Sort of?” Widget echoes and Athena snarls something unintelligible at it and closes a hand around it like she’s going to strangle it. She does, however, when the momentary anger at her interrupting machine passes, still look very confused.

“Hugh,” Juniper says sternly. “And Robin too.” She folds her hands together, fingers intertwined, and clenches them tightly. “I wanted to tell you both, so badly, and I just couldn’t figure out how. I was scared - it wasn’t anything you said or did. I always was just going to be afraid. And I - I understand, completely, the things you’ve said. The Gentry are terrible,” she adds. “And cruel. I know that too. That side of my family was cast out. My parents are dead and my grandmother turned into a tree.”

Athena’s mouth opens with a soft pop and hangs open, her jaw moving back and forth as she searches for words that she ultimately can’t find. Apollo can’t put together a question either, and if he could he wouldn’t ask now. He sees on Juniper’s face that this, however strange, almost laughably strange, it sounds, that this is raw, painful, and she’s opening up her heart for six people to hear. However much detail she wants to give is up to her, and he won’t be the one to press for more.

(But he’s definitely going to ask Athena later, if she ever finds out more from Juniper.)

After several seconds of silence, Hugh says, “I thought I could just - get in and out. Just wander back out. And then when I didn’t I thought it was - a couple years. Two or three maybe.”

“Time passes differently there,” Apollo says. Trucy nods solemnly.

“Time in—” Athena looks from her to Hugh, and then to Apollo. “You mean in - in Faeryland?”

“Yeah,” Apollo says.

Hugh folds his arms. “You were the one that asked that question in court, after the prosecutor mentioned my age,” he says, in a slightly accusatory manner. “Whether I was actually twenty-five or had spent a time - elsewhere.” Apollo has no idea what he’s being accused of, but it doesn’t sound good.

“Hugh,” Juniper says. “Robin’s right. We’re all weird.” Her eyes dart nervously over at Apollo, waiting to see if he takes offense to that. He nods. He’s weird. He knows that. He’s weirder than anyone knows. He’s weirder than he himself knew. “And some of us are going to know weird things. It’s going to happen. It doesn’t mean anything bad.”

What was Hugh’s first impulse - expecting that Apollo is fae? That he’s been involved with spiriting humans away? Can Hugh not tell that Apollo is human - does spending seven years there not grant someone the Sight? There’s nothing about Hugh that Apollo would describe as even vaguely charismatic or glamorous - does stumbling in as a teenager not change a person the way that Klavier was? Apollo should ask Klavier if he knows.

Juniper’s defense doesn’t do much to lessen Hugh’s suspicious glare, and Athena still looks deeply curious, resting her chin on her hand and staring at Apollo. He sighs. “I know someone who was taken and explained that to me,” he says.

Athena nods, satisfied, but now Trucy is the one with the intent, piercing stare. Apollo glances away. She’s not going to let that go easily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t properly answer your question,” Juniper says suddenly. “Hugh. Of course we’ll still be friends, but I don’t want it to be like we used to be. How we argued, and all the secrets we had from each other.” Her eyes turn down to her hands, and the friendship bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t want any more secrets. And I want us to work together - Myriam too - so we can make a better legal system, where we’re fighting for the truth and not victory. And we’re not trying to justify our methods by our end results.”

She’s taken particular care to avoid that particular “ends justify the means” phrasing. “Hell yeah, I’m in!” Robin says. She holds out her hand, and Juniper reaches out and takes it. Hugh clasps his over theirs, and after a moment of hesitation, Myriam tentatively places her hand on the pile.

“We’ll make Professor Courte proud,” Juniper says. She doesn’t draw her hand back right away, leaving her open palm facing upward on the table, and then she slowly curls her fingers closed. “Prosecutor Gavin mentioned the memorial for her. I’d like to head over there.”

Themis has begun to empty; they still pass other groups of students, but those tend to be smaller and quieter, more subdued as the night has gone on. The stage is empty when they pass, the crowd long scattered. Trucy grabs Apollo’s elbow and drags him far behind their small procession. “I didn’t know you knew someone like that,” she says in a low voice. “Someone like my mother was.”

Her mother: stolen as a child, her soul stripped from her, and now - what is a soul without a body? Something close to death - something that wishes it could be dead? An unfortunate life that was to lead. “Believe it or not,” Apollo says, “I have a life where things happen to me and I speak with people while you aren’t around.”

Trucy grins. “I don’t believe that, no,” she says, and she lapses into silence, clearly receiving the message that Apollo isn’t going to tell her who. But as they amble on she seems deep in thought, tapping her chin, surely going over the list of everyone she knows Apollo knows - as if he doesn’t know anyone not of her mutual acquaintance - and wondering who could fit. Surely she’ll come up with Klavier as a plausible contender.

If she knows any of the traits that stolen children like him and her mother have - if she even remembers anything of her mother at all.

The memorial for Courte has expanded. Flowers spill out over the walkway, laying in bunches around the framed photograph of the professor that is itself nearly obscured by notes taped to it and stuck on it. Some of those notes are elaborate, tiny writing covering their faces; others are just a few words or a simple drawn heart. Someone moved one of Courte’s abstract sculptures here from the art room to sit behind her photograph. Almost buried in the midst of everything is the same photo of the professor and Juniper in the art room that became contentious evidence on the first day of the trial - hell, judging by the way the top edge of the photo is punctured and crumpled, it might actually be the printout that the prosecution used. He wonders who brought it here, if it was another piece of evidence that Klavier or Vongole repossessed. Or maybe Blackquill had heart enough to send his hawk out on a last errand for this case.

Juniper kneels down and sweeps up a dozen flower stems in her hands - some tulips and carnations, a large sunflower, all begun to wilt and wither at the edges of their petals. Apollo thinks suddenly about the flowers of faery rings, wonders if they ever wilt or if they remain, unnaturally enduring, until someone comes along with a matchbox and a past to lay to rest. Busy thinking, he nearly misses it when Juniper starts humming softly and the flowers cupped in her hands emanate a faint glow, all the colors of their petals, and like time rewinding the shriveling edges pull back together and the wrinkled surfaces smooth. Juniper sways and slumps to the side, dropping the flowers to catch herself with one hand. “I’ve never been very good at that,” she says. “But I wanted to try.”

She picks the flowers back up from her lap and lays them neatly at the base of the picture frame, sweeping aside a few other dead petals and leaves. Something clatters against the pavement and frowning, Juniper reaches out and picks up a simple metal ring. She holds it between her thumb and forefinger and stares through the center for a moment before, seeming to decide something, she sets it back down with the flowers she revived.

“Well, I think that was pretty good,” Athena says, offering Juniper her hand to help her back to her feet. “I’ve never seen anything like that!”

Juniper brushes off her skirt. “You probably haven’t seen much magic, have you?” she asks.

“Other than the time a bird-demon yokai tried to kill us - I mean, I didn’t actually see much of that, it was trying more to eat Apollo and Trucy.”

Was that metal ring iron? Is being half human enough to make one immune? She can’t be immune - the detention center affected her, and badly. Maybe she’s just human enough that the effects of iron aren’t so dramatically painful, and scarring. Like it did to—

Apollo wonders who that ring belonged to, anyway. Thinks back to the empty dark stage. Trucy gives Apollo a nudge, jarring him to go back over what was said after everyone decided there was far too much to unpack in Athena’s statement. Robin said that there was an exhibition set up of all of Courte’s latest works that never got the chance to be unveiled, along with some of the Fine Arts Club student members’ art pieces. Hugh suggested that be where they go next. “You all go ahead,” Apollo says, conscious of all of the eyes on him, and in particular the unnatural fae red of Juniper’s, and Myriam’s reflecting any faint bit of light. “I’m gonna - gonna go see if Prosecutor Gavin’s still around somewhere.”

“Sure thing,” Athena says, before anyone else, and Apollo wonders for not the first or last time what she’s heard, from him, from Klavier, if, someone holding the magatama excepted, Athena is the only person Klavier’s glamours can’t truly hide him from. (Her assertion that her ears aren’t magic is one Apollo thinks he could come to believe - if nothing else, for the fact that Blackquill doesn’t seem to be able to disrupt her. Or maybe he thinks the psychological analysis that Athena pairs with it valid enough to let her get away with it.)

“Just lemme know if you’ll need a lift home or not,” she adds.

“Sure thing,” Apollo says, and Trucy sticks her elbow straight into into his side as she passes him by. It’s like primary school. This is the productive way that primary schoolers engage with each other in regards to crushes. Apollo in his personal and professional lives is surrounded by children. This isn’t even a revelation.

And then he’s alone in the dark, and part of him wishes that he’d asked Trucy to come with him instead, because while there’s a lot she doesn’t know, there’s plenty that she does, and she’s better at people. Klavier’s her friend too, and she didn’t even get to say hi earlier. They could’ve just gone to check up on their friend together, and Apollo wouldn’t be second-guessing his every decision now.

He doesn’t even have any guarantee that Klavier didn’t take off and flee as soon as the crowd thinned.

He could just text him. If he knew what to say. Which he doesn’t. And while it’s also painfully awkward to not know what to say in person, he also figures that the principle of the thing is that, at least he’s there.

The stage’s dozens of grand lights have all gone dark by the time Apollo circles back. The outer lights on the main academic building faintly illuminate it, the little that there is to see. The banner overhead on the scaffolding proclaiming this to be Themis’ sixty-seventh school festival has detached at one side and flaps noisily in the breeze, and Apollo remembers several other colorful tapestries hanging off of the side of the building that have already disappeared. The huge speakers and the scaffolding itself wait to be deconstructed another day.

Apollo looks at the stage and finds himself looking everywhere around the stage.

He could laugh, remembering what Phoenix said once: Trucy had tried to distract him with a will o’ the wisp enough times that he knows when a glamour like Klavier’s is trying to fool him. He might still laugh later, because it could in some way be funny, how he’s been caught up enough in this to know.

But right now, staring at the ground to find his way to the stairs to ascend to the stage, it’s not really funny at all. His eyes won’t focus and he feels dizzy, wobbly, and off-balance forcing them in a direction they want to drift away from. If it gets any worse he might vomit, and he’s going for Klavier’s shoes if he does.

A moment after that thought passes through his head, the sensation starts to fade. He blinks a few times and presses a hand to his forehead, trying to shake himself back to normal. His eyes no longer roll, unwillingly, in directions other than where he aims them.

“I should have expected,” Klavier says.

Apollo looks down at Klavier, lying on his side behind the stage’s witness stand, where the microphone stood during the concert, his arm folded beneath his head, his hair loose and splayed about. Apollo remembers the crime scene photos, remembers that Courte’s body was here, behind the witness stand, on her side. Almost the same. But there isn’t any blood, and Klavier’s eyes are open, staring up at him through the dark.

“That he would—” Klavier stops and props himself up on his elbow, squinting at Apollo. “You don’t have it.”

“What?” Apollo asks.

“The magatama,” Klavier says. “He didn’t give it to you?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. “No.” He remembers that Phoenix told him to say hi to Klavier, and decides right now it might be better not to. Second pass in silence; he waits for Klavier to ask him how he found him, then, or why. Klavier’s arm slides out from supporting him, to rest his head on it again, and his eyes fall from Apollo’s face to the surface of the stage, vacant and empty. Maybe picturing Courte’s body there, or the banners soaking up her blood. He looks tired - so terribly, impossibly tired. After a moment, he rolls over onto his back, staring up at the sky.

Apollo sits cross-legged on the stage.

The sky is dark, devoid of light, and Apollo studies the starry backdrop of the stage. Whoever painted it didn’t concern themselves with making any real constellations. He doesn’t remember if Juniper, on her costume, had random patterns or did some research. It’s not like it matters, but it’s something Apollo takes note of anyway - a sign of how long he’s known Clay more than anything else. All the strange and sometimes stupid ways that chance meetings change people.

He looks at Klavier, whose eyes remained fixed on the sky.

Funny that, chance meetings.

Apollo spins his bracelet on his wrist, feeling the familiar grooves carved into the metal. Waiting for when Klavier decides he’ll say something.

The sky actually has the slightest bit of variation to it - the darkness of the sky, and the darkness of the clouds, two different shades, and the clouds shifting and parting with the cold wind. Winter, the fae’s horrible winter, is close on its way. Apollo shivers. Nothing about the prospect makes him happy.

“Means told me something interesting the other day.” Apollo doesn’t like the tone of voice that Klavier uses to say interesting. Not bitter, but promising nothing good, either. Apollo looks at him. He isn’t looking back at Apollo, has his face turned to the sky but doesn’t quite seem to be really looking at anything at all.

He waits, but Klavier doesn’t go on. “The second evening we were investigating?” Apollo prompts.

“So Herr Wright told you, then?”

“N-no, he didn’t - he wouldn’t say anything.” There’s something so dark in Klavier’s voice that makes Apollo nervous, leaves him scrambling to defend Phoenix with an urgency he usually doesn’t feel when it comes to Phoenix and his myriad recorded failings. Phoenix telling Apollo something is not a concern that Klavier needs to have. “Athena and I were at the detention center, talking to Juniper, and Means was there - still thinking maybe he could get the case from us, I guess. But Mr Wright showed up, asked to talk to Means - when Athena and I left, we heard them arguing. Neither of them named any names but Mr Wright was accusing Means of having - threatened someone, or - or trying to discourage them from investigating by - something he said. But when we asked Mr Wright about it, he wouldn’t say who they were talking about, or what was said.”

Klavier finally turns his head, enough to arch a doubtful eyebrow at Apollo. “What, you think Mr Wright ever says anything instead of just being a cryptic bastard about it?” Apollo asks, and that gets a snort from Klavier, blowing some strands of hair up off of his face. But he does look like he believes Apollo now. “But he - Mr Wright - he was furious. At Means, for whatever - whatever it was that he said.”

Klavier stares back at the sky, his lips pressed tightly together, pondering that. “A threat,” he muses. “I didn’t think it - well. I was not imagining Means a murderer either, so I was wrong in my understanding in several ways, I must imagine.”

“What did he say?” Apollo’s voice sticks in his throat, emerging a weakened squeak.

“That it was foolish and selfish of me to have returned here - that it is my fault that Frau Professor is dead - I suppose that must have been what your boss considered an attempt to—” He waves a hand above his head and even in the faint light Apollo notices as he gestures that there isn’t a single ring on any of his long fingers. “Fortunately I am far too stupid to even understand that his message was to make me - give up, or accept that my involvement in this case did more harm than good. I figured it to be some expression of grief, a lashing out, over his coworker’s death - but knowing that he killed her, and now that you mention it—”

Tell Klavier that Courte’s death is on him, and watch him break - the way Klavier broke when Juniper mentioned her after the trial. Crumble his resolve so that he doesn’t keep going and get that audio recording examined; as far as gambits go for the covering up of murder, this one is a stretch, but Means probably still got some satisfaction out of being able to hurt someone who was being an extra thorn in his side, one that never should have been there because he’s a goddamn prosecutor, and not the one prosecuting the case.

But there’s a lot Apollo still doesn’t understand, even as rising dread reaches out to stifle his next question. He almost doesn’t want to ask for clarification. He knows he has to. Closing a hand around his wrist, he digs his nails into his arm. “But - why would he say that? How could it have been your fault?”

“Oh, it’s very funny.” Klavier talks like Apollo isn’t there, like he’s talking to himself, tossing thoughts into the air and seeing what comes of them. “That when we first met that I should have tried so hard to warn you away from your office, that Herr Wright is cursed and should make it so much more likely to damn you to an early death - and that I sitting there telling you that am after all no better, or safer a person to be around. That I can see all around but in a mirror.”

Apollo thinks he knows what he means - he can’t mean anything else. But he isn’t quite saying it, either - would Athena call that a defense mechanism, some last moments of clinging to some sort of denial rather than saying the words directly - and much as Apollo doesn’t want to drag it out of him like this, he also wants to be sure. And whenever Klavier and Phoenix talk around a point, Apollo is never sure that it isn’t really actually some new fae magic thing he hasn’t been introduced to yet.

“You’re cursed?” Apollo asks. Klavier blinks his eyes closed and keeps them closed, and then he nods. Apollo swallows. His nails in his skin hurt. “By - b-but - who?”

A ragged laugh croaks from Klavier’s lips. “You know who,” he rasps. “Who else? Surely not the man who’s done this before!” There’s a near-hysterical edge to his voice that Apollo has never heard before. “He’s cursed people and killed people for their petty slights to his pride, and I am - stupid enough to assume that he could not hate me enough to treat me the same as he has everyone else who has had the misfortune to—”

“You’re not stupid,” Apollo interrupts.

“Blind,” Klavier says, “and naive.”

“That’s not—”

“When he didn’t end lives he ruined them, and I helped him do it!” Klavier pushes himself upright, his hair a mess and a wild glint in his eyes. “I was so proud, truly I was, to have played a hand in exposing the corruption of such a prolific defense attorney! To tell my professor that I was living up to her ideals and teachings - I was wrong!” He curls his head toward his knees, and digs his hands into his hair. Both of them, Apollo sees now, are bare of rings. “How could I come back here and face her when I was so wrong?”

Apollo shifts forward. He wishes he had a single word to say, that he knew would help, or even would just not make it worse. “Why should she forgive me?” Klavier asks. “Why should he—” He lifts his head up, and all the mania has bled from his face, leaving him nothing but distraught. “Why did he forgive me?”

Apollo doesn’t say anything, and even if he had anything to say he’s not sure that he could. All else aside, he thinks, Phoenix means well - he just never channels that into normal human words or actions. Klavier’s hands slowly uncurl from his head. He’s shaking. He laughs, sick and nervous and just as shaky. “Why am I - why didn’t this just kill me, instead?”

The lump in his throat is too big to swallow. Apollo shakes his head. He expects, for a moment, that Klavier will lash back out at him for his silence, for not having an answer to impossible questions. But Klavier doesn’t say anything more, or glance away again, just rests his arms on top of his knees and stares at Apollo over them, looking at him like Apollo’s done anything more than sit here stupidly quiet, growing sicker to his stomach and closer to sympathetic tears with every moment had he lets this digest. A bad question comes to mind, born of false hope that he’s sure Klavier would have already explored, and unable to stop himself from wondering and hoping anyway, Apollo asks softly, “Are - are we sure he wasn’t bluffing? Professor Means, I mean? Making it up to…?”

Means gleefully found Athena’s weak point and repeatedly jabbed her there until even Blackquill, master of the art of cruel underhanded cuts, offered Athena a hand to get her back on her feet rather than let Means win. Apollo wouldn’t put this past him either.

“I did wonder,” Klavier says. “Thought then perhaps it was just a lie he made lashing out in grief, which is why your boss heard of this.” He gives a small, dismissive wave. “I went and asked him. If it was true. If I’m cursed.” Shaking his head, he adds, “Even if he’d said nothing, the look on his face was all the answer I needed, ja?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. He has a little trouble picturing it, honestly - Phoenix, the poker king, ever careful to not let slip any expression he doesn’t want seen. “I - I’m sorry.”

A small sad smile twitches onto Klavier’s face, and Apollo kicks himself for not having been smart enough to say that much sooner. Silently, they watch the wispy clouds drift across the dark sky. “I expected,” Klavier says quietly, “for a moment when I saw you, that he told you what happened, and gave you that magatama for that purpose.”

He’s not quite wrong to suspect that Phoenix would be particularly - what’s the best word here? Nosy? Micromanaging? Or the other way to look at it, concerned? Phoenix has had that habit before. “No,” Apollo says. “But you explained to me how your disappearing act works, and when I noticed something not seeming quite right, I figured it was you.” Klavier snorts. “And we - me and Athena and Trucy and the Themis kids - Juniper wanted to go to the little memorial for Courte. She was kinda arranging the flowers left there and she found a - a ring like—”

“Like this?” Klavier says, lifting one hand and spreading out his bare fingers for Apollo to see. Apollo rolls his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and Klavier chuckles; the grin lingers for a few seconds before it slowly falls, and Klavier’s eyes turn downcast again. “Ja, well, I have little else to offer her memory, and what point lies in it for me when I am already cursed?”

“Stop yourself from being cursed again by someone else?” Apollo suggests. “I mean, I think Mr Wright - he’s been - multiple—” He remembers Phoenix once talking about how different curses land against each other, in the way he talks when he’s pretending not to be referring to himself.

“Ja,” Klavier says. “He told me my brother was not the first to hate him so.”

That’s surprisingly direct of Phoenix. Like Apollo is the only one he doesn’t say things to. “Well, there’s your point,” Apollo says. “For it to not get any worse.” He slides the ring from his finger and offers it back to Klavier, who, staring at his hands, doesn’t see him right away.

“Difficult as it is to imagine this getting any worse,” Klavier says darkly, but when he raises his eyes he notices what Apollo is doing and laughs sharply. “Nein, Herr Forehead, no need for that. I have not had the rest melted down for scrap, just left them at my apartment. You keep that. Keep yourself in one piece for me, ja? You’ve got no need to worry after me.”

Apollo remains unconvinced. He’s still going to worry. He’ll continue to worry, and he’ll press on that later, but a new thought has begun to eat at him, sinking teeth into his stomach and twisting until it hurts, nausea and anxiety and a sick nervous pain. And the anger, this same anger that he’s felt again and again, ever single goddamned time this happens. “Wouldn’t - wouldn’t Mr Wright have known about this? Before you asked? He could’ve Seen - he should’ve Seen—”

“We’ve crossed paths twice since I last saw my brother,” Klavier says. “Yes. He undoubtedly knew before I.”

“He should’ve told you,” Apollo says.

Klavier shrugs. “To what end?” Now he sounds casual, too casual, almost like the lack of care isn’t quite feigned, like all of Apollo’s justified bitterness and anger was leeched away from Klavier and leaving him with nothing at all to just shrug. Phoenix knew because Phoenix knows everything and Klavier knows that he knew and didn’t tell him and Klavier shrugs at it.

“The truth?” Apollo asks. The truth, because that’s what they’ve always been after, together, since they met. Since before they properly knew each other, since before they knew what the other was about, they were still chasing that same goal.

“And what of it? Justice was already served. Kris is already in prison, for the rest of his life, however short the state cuts it, for what he has done. I know that. What difference more does knowing this make?”

Apollo gapes at him. His head spins. He thinks about Klavier taking this stance with any other person, any other crime, and he can’t make this thought work. “This doesn’t sound like you,” he says, lacking anything else to say. This isn’t right, and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

“And who am I?” Klavier snaps back. “You think you know? You think I am to want to know that my brother hates me, ja? Just because that is the truth? I knew that! I know that!” He stands up, unfolding himself but only to assume a different defensive posture, arms folded and tightly clutching them, drawing himself up in a way that Apollo wonders if it’s a conscious choice or not, to mimic Kristoph. Apollo scrambles to his feet after him, searching his face for Kristoph’s and finding that it’s only pain that twists and contorts his expression. “‘Ignorance is bliss’ is not a mantra for our profession,” Klavier continues, “but I will tell you that it most assuredly is when it comes to them and their curses.”

“Right,” Apollo says irritably. He wants to scream, but not necessarily at Klavier - just scream, at nothing, at the world, at the great cosmic and fae injustices heaped on their shoulders. “Which is of course why you didn’t warn me about anything and let me blindly and ignorantly wander in way over my head.”

Professor Means didn’t accomplish what he meant to - he didn’t stop Klavier from investigating. He didn’t stop Klavier from helping to put him behind bars. But if he also meant to hurt him for daring to stick his nose where he didn’t belong, taunt him the way he taunted Athena, he succeeded. He still broke something in him. Maybe he’d done that as soon as he killed Courte.

Klavier works his jaw, a scowl etched deep into his face and brow. “Or is that somehow different?” Apollo asks. Another of Klavier’s particular and almost superstitious - if usually excusable - hangups about the fae? “Like—”

“Shut up!”

Apollo recoils, hitting his back against the stage witness stand. Even Klavier looks for a moment shocked at his outburst, but if it wasn’t what he meant to say he doesn’t apologize or backtrack. “You aren’t - of course it is different!” he snarls. “You had a chance to get out before worse happened, is why I told you! But this - listen to me, Herr Forehead - in everything I have ever been through, I have not heard even a whisper of a way to break a curse.”

Athena drives him home.

She’s wise enough not to ask specifics, and so for that matter is Trucy. “How’s Prosecutor Gavin?” is all she says when it’s the three of them in her car, Apollo relegated to the backseat because Trucy called shotgun and he has to respect her authority as the most senior member of the Wright Anything Agency.

“Not good,” Apollo says, and Athena frowns into the rearview, and Trucy turns and peers over the back of her seat, and that’s all there is on that topic. Out the window, Apollo watches the lights of the city blur by, rewinds the conversation in his head to play back every question that he shouldn’t have asked that led to what can’t have been the inevitable outcome. This could have gone any way if it weren’t for stupid Apollo, treating everything like a cross-examination to gather as much information as possible, no matter how the witness being questioned feels about those questions.

Surprise of the century, that it isn’t a great way to deal with upset acquaintances.

He stands in the lobby of his apartment building, phone in hand, finger hovering over the name in his contacts list. He already sent a text to Klavier - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed - and he wants to say more but he doesn’t know what and he’s trying not to shove his own foot deeper down his throat. Either he’ll figure it out himself, or he’ll swallow his pride and relay to Clay the gist of what happened to ask for advice.

(Klavier more-or-less stormed off while Apollo was still reeling, disappearing into the darkness and leaving Apollo to think that he should chase him down, not let him go off on his own in this state, but Apollo’s already made everything so much worse. He stood there on the stage alone, waiting while knowing that Klavier wasn’t going to come back, until Vongole loped up out of the dark up to him. She stood there with her shoulders hunched up and her head low, ears pressed back, like someone just kicked her. Her eyes as empty red as they are, she can’t do the puppy-dog eyes look, but Apollo would have sworn that was what she was going for, and he had no idea what she wanted or what he was supposed to do. After a few moments of that, she had seemed to shrink even further before his eyes and she turned, head drooping even lower, and slunk away. If she showed up trying to make Apollo feeling guiltier, than she damn well succeeded.)

And then there’s the other problem of the night.

Heart pounding shallowly in his throat, he presses his thumb to the screen and lifts his phone to his ear.

“Hello? Apollo?” Phoenix sounds - confused. Apollo wonders if Trucy told him the very little that Apollo told her. If maybe he’s guessed why Klavier is not doing well. “What’s up?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about,” Apollo says. His heart is in his mouth now, too big and choking him. “In person, preferably.” So that he won’t try to lie. So that if he does, he can’t get away with it.

“I was planning to head into the office tomorrow morning to put together some stuff. Swing by sometime before noon and we’ll talk, all right?”

He doesn’t ask what it is that Apollo needs to talk about. Does he think he knows? Or, well, he probably does know. Or he doesn’t really care enough to ask in advance.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.”

His hands are shaking when he hangs up. He isn’t quite sure why - he’s asked questions of Phoenix about the fae before. He’s broached these topics before, confronted Phoenix about information he’s hidden before. This is just that, again. Same old, same old: Apollo drags every new fact about the fae out of Phoenix with more difficulty than he drags confessions out of murderers.

But if anyone knows the fae better than Klavier, if anyone could ever know a way to break a curse - it’s Phoenix.

#roddy fanfics #fic: the witches of los angeles #i've left the house twice in eight weeks and am finally being smacked about by The Depression over it #and work from home makes my back hurt bc there are no good chairs for it. i am so tired. i wanna take a nap with my dog.

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alias-b · 4 years

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Without The Lights~ Billy Hargrove x OC Camille Harper

Chapter 10: Shadows Of The Night

A/N: A secret bleeds and Camille finds comfort with her friend. Billy has dinner at the Harper house and things don’t go as planned. TW: Talk of assault and abortion. Sexual content.

“Let’s see it,” Camille purred.

“Harpy, you’re making me blush.” Billy’s chest heaved softer. “I don’t think you’re ready for it just yet.”

“I’m ready,” she uttered, sultry. “Don’t make me beg.”

“Kind of want you to beg.” Teeth tugged at his bottom lip. They leaned closer in response with wandering eyes.

“Show it to me, Billy.”

“If you insist...”

“Okay. You two need to stop it, I am going to be sick.” A girl muttered from the next lab table to their right. Robin. Her face pinched in genuine disgust and amusement. Heather was laughing next to her, covering her lips. Camille noted they’d gotten closer over the new semester. World’s colliding still at Hawkins High. Chemistry class went on around them. Lab partners working together.

“What…we’re just talking grades? What else could we be-"

"What else indeed, Harper." Robin twitched one brow and Camille broke to chuckle.

"He won't show me his damn test still. I stayed up diligently tutoring him, I deserve to know.” Camille cocked her head. Robin snickered at her finally, doodling in the corners of her paper.

"Hm, that's what she's calling it." Billy mused while he slipped a stick of cinnamon gum into his mouth, earning a light swat at his arm. "Don't damage the goods now, Harpy." She loathed him especially today.

“Get an A plus, Camille?” Heather looked around Robin to see Camille grin with a nod. “No surprise there.” Fingers picked up the exam and Billy huffed at it, angling still so Camille couldn't see his paper.

“What did you get? Tell me or I'll burst.” Camille pressed. Life picked up even still. Quieter than she liked. The Party met frequently outside of school. Watching out for the others as much as they could. Billy shook his head, frowning, and her shoulder’s fell. “Oh. You studied so hard for it. It’ll be fine, we got you to passing so we'll just keep at it.”

“I guess.” Billy flicked the paper around. “Because I got a B fucking minus. No more D letter grades.” He broke to offer a grin that illuminated his entire face and she pushed at him. "Read it and weep for me, babe."

“Billy!” She hushed when he bounced in his seat, too happy that he’d fooled her. “That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you.” He licked his lips, cheeks heating. Those words held tight and didn’t let go. “We have to celebrate. My, uh, mom’s home tonight. We should go out to a movie. I need a night out and I think you earned one.” She was nonchalant about it.

“A movie?” His focus shifted, hands lowering the exam to the table.

“Yes. A movie." Camille's sly eyes flicked to him. "You know, moving pictures. Big screen. Popcorn.”

“On this specific date?” He blinked. “Valentine’s Day.” Camille exhaled out her nose, leaning on her elbows to watch his face.

“Yes, Billy, I want to go to the movies with you on Valentine’s Day. Clear enough?”

“That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

“Maybe it is.” Camille shrugged, going back to her paper as if she hadn’t just rocked his shit apart. “I’ll pick you up this time.”

“Wine and dine me, I might try harder at this whole good grade thing.”

“Seriously, you’re trying hard now and it’s paying off. You're slowly going up full letter grades. Evidence is clear. You're a dummy but, you're not dumb.” She filled in a worksheet, winking. Camille shifted to adjust her shirt sleeves up. Pink with red hearts and cherries. Billy stared at her when she didn’t look at him again. Admiring this person he’d come to value.

“Thank you, Camille,” he’d said it so quietly, she barely heard it. Billy was writing on his own page now when Camille peered at him. She gave a nod.

“Seven o’clock? I’ll come get you.”

“Guess I’ll be waiting.” He flipped through his book. Camille opened her mouth to speak when their school’s intercom picked up. A high pitched sound caused every student to cover their ears. It echoed and adjusted before Camille grew cold.

“Hey. R-” The feedback was static and then even again. “It’s Camille…if you couldn’t remember my voice. You probably don’t want me calling. I waited for two hours. You damn coward.”

“Is that you?” Heather leaned over to whisper and Camille’s eyes went wide. All her classmates had already turned to stare at her.

“No…! No!” Camille jerked herself up like she’d become possessed and raced out. Billy almost fell from his chair in shock, unable to react.

“Ms. Harper!” Their teacher called. The horrid message continued while Camille tore down the hallways.

“I just had some stuff I wanted to say… It was really shitty. What you did. Not just leaving me to go to a clinic myself. Leaving me to abort our baby myself. Getting me pregnant in the first place. You are just…fucking awful. And I ignored it thinking it was love. That’s not love. Learned the hard way, I guess. But, wherever you are. Manipulating another poor girl. Fuck you. Fuck you for all of us!”

Camille passed students who stopped to whisper. Few came out of classrooms with curious teachers. She banged on the front office door. Locked. A tape recorder sat in front of the mic with no one around.

“Fucking eat shit. I was…I am a child. You were the adult! Can’t be an adult? You’re disgusting.” Camille heard her words echo through their entire high school. Shedding that burning spotlight upon her skin. She pressed her head to the window and wept, unable to take it before she covered her ears. “I loved you. I thought I did. Maybe I don’t know love either. But, today, a friend helped me see…just a flicker. What it could feel like. And I’m going to find it one day. I know you won’t. How could you? I don’t regret what I did and I hope one day I don’t always feel guilt and shame when I think of you. You should be ashamed, you fucked a teenager and bragged about it…”

“…I hope you never touch another woman again, shithead. Can’t get college girls so you bat at high schoolers? One day, you’re going to meet a girl who sees you for what you are. I hope it eats you. You won’t touch me ever again. And that, I can be proud of. Just fuck you. Stay away from me. Not like that’ll be hard now. You’re twenty and you got into bed with a fifteen year old. You’re sick. Don’t spread that illness to anymore girls like you almost did with me. I see you again, I’ll destroy you. Fuck you! Just, fuck you!” Camille heard herself cry and lost it, her elbow bashed into the glass while teachers tried to tear her off. She clawed and kicked. Made a scene. Flashed her queen bee stinger. Bared her teeth. “Don’t set foot in Hawkins ever again. Have a great life.” Unable to stop the harrowing tones as it tried to loop, Camille grabbed a glass paper weight then smashed the tape and mic both to bits. When the torture ended, she sunk to the floor as her English teacher came first to hold her.

“I had to do it, I had to!” Camille was sobbing. Body jerking with each heave. Inconsolable. She wondered what it must have been for the gate to the Upside Down to tear open and unleash hell. Something like this.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ve got you, honey.” Ms. Strode always had that soft spot for students. “We’ll call your mother.”

“Oh, my god. Margaret, wake up!” Another teacher found the office aid, passed out behind the desk. “Call the police.” Everyone rushed around while Ms. Strode got Camille to her feet. Billy was there after pushing through crowds, eyes huge when Nancy raced to catch up with him from her own classroom. Students looked at their queen fallen from grace.

“Camille, we got you.” Nancy got around Billy and came to her other side. Billy turned to see every judgmental, shocked, and intrigued expression.

“The fuck are you all looking at?! Show’s over, dicks!” Billy Hargrove flipped his switch and they cowered back to keep moving about their day. “Assholes.” He followed after the women when they got Camille into the empty nurse’s office.

“Nancy, can you stay with her?” Ms. Strode got up and Billy charged in.

“Me, too.” He didn’t ask permission. Camille was lying down, covering her face and crying hard still. Nancy held her and Billy came to her other side. Their teacher left to make some calls. They let their friend weep until she was silently gasping. Waiting for flesh to just peel off bone.

“It was her. Edna.” Camille grew numb. “She’s trying to ruin my life all over again. But, she’s been watching me. She’s known the entire time. Bitch. Trying to get me to fucking crack.” Nancy rubbed her back to soothe her cries.

“You can’t stay in that house. Your mother-”

“That’s it, she hasn’t made any move at all. I don’t…get it.” Camille let Billy wipe her tears and shift long hair from her face.

“Camille,” he realized it, “if…if this chick has been spying on you. She could know we saw your mother. In Dayton.” She lifted her eyes, stilling.

“You know Hopper’s been watching out for her too.” Nancy spoke to calm her down.

“She knows that we know everything. It's like she's trying to tear me down so I'm isolated and admitting it. Why didn’t she go to Rosemary or Noah? Lab never came for me.” Camille whispered.

“Maybe she…wants to torment you first.” Nancy frowned. She watched Billy Hargrove comfort her friend and noted how it wasn’t strange anymore. Seeing him around like this. “Camille, you’re bleeding.” Nancy pulled her friend’s sleeve up. “You might need stitches.” A nasty set of cuts swelled just under her elbow. Camille hissed upon seeing it and Billy was already digging for something to stop the blood with their nurse helping in the main office.

“I didn’t even feel that in my state.” Camille whined.

“Hold still.” Billy helped her clean it like many of his own wounds before.

“What am I supposed to tell her? My mother.” Camille ached and her friends paused for a brief moment. “Hawkins is a small place. Come tomorrow, the whole damn town is going to know about me. Edna wants that. She’s trying to break me.”

“Well, as Dustin would say, when one of the Party members needs assistance: it’s our duty to provide it.” Nancy recited and Camille tried to smile. “And we will.” Billy was gentle when he wrapped her arm up.

“Hell of a bruise coming.” He huffed, chest falling.

“Not going to a hospital.” She brought her sleeve down. “Can you guys stay with me awhile?”

“Not like we were planning to leave you.” Nancy pressed her head to Camille’s shoulder and rubbed her arm. Billy sat on the floor and let her hold his hand. Silent, they waited for Rosemary to appear and whisk Camille away. Ms. Strode appeared and gestured that her mother was waiting. Camille stood taller and wiped her eyes, opting to walk alone down the long hallway. Where she was gawked at by passing students. Eyes ahead, she swayed along and didn't give any of them a damn thing. Not one piece of her.

** ** **

“Camille.” Her mother shut the door. The entire car ride was silent. Rosemary was shaken, stuffing nervous pills into her mouth. Camille didn't dare ask what they were for. Steve dropped her car off then left with Jonathan and Nancy when Rosemary wouldn’t let anyone else inside the house. “Camille, baby, talk to me. Just please.” She sat her daughter down, sounding desperate. Hands cupped Camille face, raw and splotched red. “This is because I wasn’t around enough.”

“No, mom, I was stupid.” Camille wheezed. “I couldn’t tell you or dad.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. You needed us. You went through that alone.” Rosemary came to hug her close, too tight. Jarring. “I’ll quit.”

“No, fuck, mom. No. Do not do that. I’m better now. I am.” Camille forced a smile. “I made a bad choice. I learned.”

“You never came to me. We did not teach you to lie.” She stated that with genuine confusion. As if they groomed her incorrectly.

“I just wanted…to be perfect for you both.” Her reply was the most honest she’d been in awhile.

“This is all Noah’s fault. He filled your head with… He couldn’t let you grow naturally. We kept a distance, thinking... I told him, I told him this had gone too far. Become too much. That we lost control in the shuffle.”

“Mom…what are you talking about?” Camille watch her mother’s eyes. Manic. The moment flooded out. Of course, she knew exactly what it meant.

“No, sweetie, I’m sorry. It’s just…daddy and I made mistakes too. But, I’m fixing them. I love you so much. Please…know that you can come to me. You’re my sweet girl. Mine.”

“Mom, that…uh, you’re squeezing me. It’s okay.” Camille drew back when Rosemary let her go, speaking her syllables slower.

“Everything is going to be okay.” She cocked her flawless head like one of the damn Stepford wives.

“I know.”

“I love you. I’ll keep you safe inside here. I promise.” Rosemary kissed her head.

“I…I love you, too.” Camille gripped the couch and her mother came up. There was a moment of unsettling staring before the doorbell rang. She jumped up too quick. “I’ll be fine. I am fine. I’ll get that.”

“Rest today. I’ll make us dinner. One of your favorites.” Her mother floated off down the hall to pour herself some brandy and Camille wiped her face. She hurried to open the front door, surprised at who was there waiting.

“Robin? Hi.”

“Hey, sorry, I…” Robin held out a pink backpack. “You forgot this. I snagged your assignments.”

“Thank you, um, do you want to come in?”

“A chance to see the new Harper house renovations? Sure.” Robin stepped into the doorway. “Changed a lot since your twelfth birthday.”

“Yeah, wow, that was an odd day.”

“The bouncy castle and the dancing clown that terrified all of us.”

“You know, I have nightmares about that voice still. He had the strangest name.” Camille joked and Robin smiled at her. “Guess we didn’t see each other much after that.”

“High school changes people. Start to discover new things about yourself.”

“You’re almost too right about that,” Camille hung her backpack up. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, I just…wanted to make sure you were okay. You know? Heather will be glad to hear it too." Robin shrugged, cheeks pink over freckles. "I also wanted to say that…what you said to that asshole was really cool.”

“Ah, thanks. Words just came, I guess.”

“I hope we see more of that Camille.” Robin offered, pointing with her thumb behind her. “Well, I should…”

“Right, um, thank you again for coming, Robin. I appreciate it.” Camille paused. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Ignoring you after my birthday party." She replied. "Glad you and Heather get along. Her parents are...strict. Girl needs more friends in her life." Robin twitched a sort of half smile at that, face softening.

“I’ll see you around school, Cam. Don't make me split you and Hargrove up.”

"We're not even together really."

"You should tell him that." The teen beamed at her and moved to go outside.

“Bye, Robin.” Camille shut the door and Rosemary was there in a flash, glass in hand.

“Are you alright?”

“Better, yes. Um, I had a...a kind of date tonight with Billy.”

“Why not invite him over for dinner instead? I’d like to meet this boy you like. Your friend.”

“Uh, I’m not sure, he-”

“Tell him to be here at seven. I’ll make us all a chocolate cake.” Rosemary definitely hit the pills hard today. Washed them down with sips of expensive brandy. Only drank that when she was upset. Usually stayed with something white or blush otherwise. It was always how Camille could gauge her moods. By what was in her glass.

“…Okay.” Camille waited for her to go after another awkward beat. Her breath left tight lungs so she picked up the phone to dial.

“Hargrove.” Billy surprised her. He was never the one to answer. Neil always lied, telling her Billy was "out" before smacking the receiver down on her.

“Billy, it’s me. My…My mother invited you to dinner. Can you come?” Her voice was shaken. Billy didn’t dare ask why over the phone. “It’s at seven. I’d really like you to be there.”

“I’ll be there.” They both hung up and Camille plastered a smile to go help her mother cook.

“He’s coming.”

“Wonderful.” Rosemary moved items around. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yes, he does. We're friends, we help each other.”

“That’s all I wanted for you, you know.”

“I know. I am happy. I am. You’re an…amazing mother. You know, I see women wearing your clothing and I always smile. You touched all their lives in a small way. Billy’s stepmom gushed about how she wore one of your blouses on a date. I’m proud of what you did. You did your best. Daddy did too. I know that.” Camille found something heartfelt in all this bullshit. All this pain. And I killed daddy, Camille wanted to say. She apologized for it even still. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, I was ashamed.” Rosemary was holding her again, shaking. Unraveling.

“I’m proud of you, Camille. We’re going to be just fine. You became an amazing woman. Never stop. I just wish you'd come to me. Please, know that you can.” She kissed her cheeks and Camille relaxed. “Come on, let’s make something to impress this boy of yours.” Her daughter could only nod. The twinge of fear didn’t quite melt away. But, she was up for ignoring it. Camille Harper lived her entire life in a den of wolves. You don't just slink out of it when they begin to starve.

** ** **

“You’re early,” Camille was relieved when she opened the door in a short, pink sweater dress with black tights. Billy had his shirt buttoned up higher than usual. Only one open. Frankly, that was more surprising than the flowers in hand.

“For your mother. Moms love me.” He cocked his head so she allowed him inside. Camille kissed his cheek so she could whisper.

“Something’s off.” She warned. “She’s…” Camille came out to listen as her mother hummed in the kitchen to music playing on their stereo. “She’s like…clingy and weird. Doped up.” Rosemary opened the door to interrupt them, removing an apron. She reminded Billy of twenty Karen Wheelers. All dolled up to the max. With Karen, you still got something genuine there. Rosemary lived her life in the artificial. Her current mental state amounted to shiny sequins popping off a campy prom dress.

“Camille, darling, introduce me.”

“Billy Hargrove, this is my mother, Rosemary Harper.” Camille stepped out of the way with the flowers. “Billy is my friend from class. He transferred into Hawkins last fall. Brought us these flowers.” The teen realized Billy was making a jab with them.

“Sunflowers. How sweet? How’d you know?” She outstretched a hand and Billy took it in both of his

“Mrs. Harper? For a moment, I thought Camille had a sister." He turned up the usual appeal. "Nice to finally meet you. My stepmom talks about your clothes all the time.”

“A charmer. Flattery will get you everywhere in this house.” She grinned. More sparkly sequins threatened to burst. Billy remembered a red, sequined scarf his mother owned. Part of an old Halloween costume. Shiny and wild to the eye. As a kid, he'd playfully run about the house with it wrapped around his shoulders to music. Made him feel like a star. Until Neil came home to catch him one Tuesday afternoon. Knocked three baby teeth out. His mother threw the scarf away after that. Probably for the best. “Come into the dining room. Camille, go set the table for me.” Billy met Camille’s eyes, brow lifting subtly. They went in after her. “How do you like Hawkins, William?”

“Oh, Billy is fine,” he swallowed. “Hawkins is…different.”

“Used to be a much quieter place. Such a pity.” Rosemary sighed, bringing a dish to the table. “Chicken pot pie.”

“It smells amazing, mom,” Camille let Billy pull out her chair before he held out one for her mother next.

“He’s just a doll, isn’t he?” Rosemary served pieces up when Billy slipped into a seat across from Camille. Music still played and candles lit the table.

“Thank you, Mrs. Harper.”

“Rosemary, please.” She’d insisted, eating from her plate. Both teens waited until she swallowed to pick at their food. “Camille tells me you’re from California. You know, I dressed so many celebrities in LA. Award season was my favorite time. Sometimes I miss that. Hawkins must absolutely bore you, poor thing.”

“Delicious,” Billy remarked, nodding. “And I thought that as well until I moved here. Met some…interesting people.”

“Well, that’s good then. With the right people, you can make any place a home.” She sounded like fucking Glinda the Good Witch. If she snorted a great deal of coke. Billy watched her smile and paused to swallow. His lips lifted with some force. Camille nudged his foot under the table. “That’s what my Noah used to say.” Her mother was noticeably dazed.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Billy offered.

“That’s appreciated, young man. I can see that you’re very important to my daughter, Billy. Glad to see her in the company of good friends who care about her.” Rosemary was still smiling. “Because if anyone dared to hurt her, oh, I do pity the next boy who crosses my baby.”

“Mom.” Camille set her water down, eyes widening and Rosemary sat back. Collected.

“Camille, you are beautiful and you are still so stupid. I really thought we taught you better. I can see now, we didn’t. Pity. You just never could grasp people. You never could trust your instincts.” She poured blame into Camille’s soul like gasoline. All they needed was a match.

“Whoa…” Billy sat straighter when Rosemary’s knife tapped her plate. Camille’s jaw dropped.

"Mom, stop."

“If you don’t think for a second that this boy only wants what they all do… What have I taught you? Are you going to sleep with my daughter? Leave her shattered like the other did? Are you going to try to take her from me? When I finally have her all my own. Oh, no. I will not have it!” Rosemary smacked the table and stood. Camille jumped to her feet.

“Billy, I think you should go now.” She came around the table to push at him. “Mom, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, I’m not going anywhere.” Billy was tense, fists clenching. The words blurted out. “Look, I care about your daughter-”

“Words.” Rosemary was a rubber band snapping. “Men, you’re all the same, you make messes and we clean them up. You hurt us and we lick our own wounds. You use and use and we come to our knees after. Where is my credit?! Huh, I took good care of you, I did. And you want to throw it all away by growing up. Without your mother, Camille!” Her daughter stopped and almost burst herself, remembering Judith King alone in that hospital. Rocking.

“Mom…calm down,” Camille realized the magnitude of the grave danger she was in all at once. The boiling pot she couldn't leap out of. She had to stay in control. Told herself she was. Didn't trust her fucking instincts. Her fatal flaw with people. Camille's hand lifted to slip the knife from her mother’s fingers. “I think you need to go lie down.”

“Oh…oh, yes. I am not myself. I think I,” Rosemary clenched with tears. “I think I drank a little too much brandy. Too many pills to relax me. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I wanted one good night for you. For us.”

“I know…let’s get you in bed.” Camille looked at Billy and helped the manic woman off to her room.

“I didn’t mean that, I’m just so scared.” She crumbled.

“Go to sleep. We’ll be fine.” Camille tucked her into bed and hurried out, shutting the door. Billy’s hands were on her shoulders, dragging her back to the stairs.

“You are not staying here tonight.” He was heated, voice low. “You don’t even have to come stay with me if you don’t want to. I’ll take you anywhere. I’ll take you to Harrington or the Wheeler’s or to the damn Chief, I don’t care. But, you are not staying in this house tonight. I mean it.” Camille wrapped her arms around him. Words. “Pack a bag, we’re going right now.”

“She wasn’t always like that, since my father…something’s coming undone inside her as well.” Camille sniffled and Billy held her back this time, firm as if to reassure her. She packed a bag and wrote a quick note to let her mother know that she was safe with a friend.

“Come on,” Billy reached for her hand without thinking to get her out of there. “Where am I taking you?” They got into his car so he pulled out of the driveway. She fazed out of existence. Her elbow burned still. That pain was the only thing keeping her attached to this world. “Camille, talk to me. You need to stay right here now. Okay?”

“I…” She shook her head. Tried to flood back in. For him. “I don’t know. You pick.”

“My house it is,” he inhaled. “Dad leaves before us for work tomorrow. I’ll sneak you into the window again. Can get ready at my place and I’ll take you to school... Camille. Focus here. You're fading on me.”

“Okay...yes, okay.” Her body mellowed out. Numb even when he beckoned to snap her back. “I don’t want to cause more trouble for you at home.”

“You couldn’t possibly.” He hitched with amusement then. Camille looked outside at the trees, lips opening when she found words to grasp.

“You meant it, I could tell.”

“Meant, what?”

“You cared about me.” She turned her head and his eyes stayed on the road. Billy didn’t speak so she went for his hand, clasping it between both of hers. “Everything that happened. I want you to know that you’re making it. Doing better. You’re my friend and I care about you too. And I forgive you. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you touching my life. And just, thank you, Billy.” His chest sunk and he squeezed her hand tight. “Just needed you to know that.”

** ** **

“Shhh, they’re sleeping,” Billy eased Camille into his bedroom window. She had one leg over when the door opened a crack and Max poked her head in without knocking.

“You’re not as sneaky as you think,” she whispered, amused. “Saw her pass my window.” The younger girl came forward to take Camille’s other hand.

“Keep it down,” Billy hissed, hands under Camille's arms to heave her inside. She felt his muscles flex and let her face heat. “Go shut my door.”

“I heard about… Well, we all…” Max shuffled her feet. Camille dropped her bag and sat on Billy’s bed. “I’m sorry.” She came and wrapped her arms around Camille’s neck when she got emotional. Billy shut his window and sighed, sneaking out to grab a glass of water. His sister was kneeling on his bed, holding his friend close and petting her hair. “It’s okay.” Billy offered her the cool glass quietly so she came out from Max to drink, eyes red and tired.

“Come on, go change.” Billy was ushering her into his little closet with her bag. Flicking the swinging light in there on. Max stood, gaze sliding from him to the floor. He didn’t try to kick her out.

“What happened after?” She hesitated when his eyes landed on her face. “Thought her mom invited you over.”

“I don’t know, she just…freaked out on us.” Billy shook his head. His sister looked encouraged.

“So, you helped her leave.”

“For tonight,” Billy ran a hand into his hair and plopped down on his bed. Max pressed her lips. “Don’t give me that look, not like I’m in your nerd party.”

“Maybe we can start our own side party? I don’t know all the rules but I think I’ll make some of my own up.” Max shrugged. “It can be a secret too, no one will see us coming. Just think about it, maybe come up with a cool name.” Billy lifted one brow at her, lips pressing when she stood.

“Max.” He mustered the courage. Let it flood out. “I’m sorry.” Hands clenched in his lap when she came forward, touching his face so he’d look at her expression.

“I always wanted a big brother,” she admitted. “Nice to meet you, Billy.”

“You too, Mad Max.” Billy let her hug him. A quick, tight squeeze he needed. One arm returned it because she needed it too.

“Name the secret side party.” Max moved to the closet door. “Camille, I hope you feel better.” There was some quiet shuffling.

“Thank you,” came the muffled reply. Max crept out to get back to her room and Camille appeared, drained. Billy looked up and there was a beat.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She crawled behind him atop the covers. “School’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow.”

“Figured you’d want to skip.” Billy pulled his pants and shirt off, not bothering with much else before he reclined next to her. Camille shifted in a baggy tee, curling her bare legs up. He took note of them briefly.

“No. Queen Bee can’t back down. Right?” Camille closed her eyes and opened them. “I don’t regret anything about the choice I made. I won’t let those people scare me into thinking that I should.” He didn’t argue with that. “Sorry, we can’t go on a normal date.”

“We’ll get there. Eventually.” Billy turned his head to see her, idly hitting the last lamp to shut off.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Camille sighed, burying her face into pillows that smelled like him. Billy came up to shift so he could slip covers over them both. She scooted into him, allowed his hands to smooth up and down her back. Billy was careful of the wound on her arm, relaxing while they warmed up. Dim moonlight sunk between the curtains. Camille watched the shine of his eyes in the dark. Her arms curled between them, fingers shifting out to touch his chest.

“Let me guess,” he purred. Hands smoothed over his skin. “You want to try something?”

“Hm, what gives you that idea?” Camille drew closer, lips just barely brushing his.

“We have to keep it down,” he warned, breathless before they kissed. Heated flesh pressed together. They held each other for a while there in the dark. Billy was more still as she explored him. Tracing over contours and scars. She cupped his face, thumbs smoothing along cheekbones. Following the swell of his full bottom lip before her mouth opened against his. Camille felt him get aroused against her thigh.

“I want to touch you,” she uttered, fingers in his hair until he adjusted and reclined more on his back. One arm pulled her into him so she draped her body along his. Lips peppered over his collar and neck. Billy suppressed a moan and tilted his head back, hand finding hers. Camille traced his hip and guided him until she cupped his shaft through thin briefs. Fingers edged up and down the feel of him. "Oh." The softest little sound sent pride shooting up his body. He was well aware of what he was packing. Billy’s lips parted to sigh and he shifted her hand under the fabric. Longed so to be touched. Fingers wrapped around the shaft. They found a pace together. Pumping slow and rhythmic while her mouth was on warm skin.

“Camille.” Billy came undone, hand sliding away so she could work him until he was hard and slick. Her thumb rubbed circles into the tip. Torturing him. Unraveling him utterly. His arm squeezed her closer when it became too much. “Fuck,” he craned his neck to bury his face into her hair, muffling his sighs into the pillows. “More.” She slowed to longer strokes, coming out to slip her tongue into his mouth. Drawing it out. Billy held himself together. Just barely.

“Do you think about me when you’re alone?” Camille was going painfully slow, lips lingering down his chest. Turning the tables. "Doing this to yourself and thinking about fantasy queen Camille. Hm?" Billy tried not to scoff. No comment. “Have to give to get.” She recalled his own words. Tormented him with them. Fingernails scratched down his chest. Her mouth left little pink marks he’d remember tomorrow.

“Yes, god, Camille.” His hips tried to rut in tune with her hand. “Few minutes after I met you just so we’re clear.”

“Crystal.” She teased, slipping to run her tongue down his happy trail and all the way up to his tip. Billy gave a wanting little arch to be inside her. Fingers shifted into her hair. “This is more like it, yeah?”

“Close,” he reached to stoke himself, eyes intent on her own until she opened her mouth when he offered his tip. She just felt too good. Swallowing him down all the way. “Better.” Camille gave a hum that vibrated his dick, plunging it further into her throat. She came up to find her pace again. Kisses and licks smeared arousal down his skin. Camille brought her bottom into the air and focused on the pace. Mouth slipping over him with ease. Fingers guided her by the hair, twisting locks from her face. Billy watched her suckle and pressed his head back. She'd ruin him for other flings too. They played together, heated, and as quiet as they could be. He felt his stomach flutter, body growing taut. Camille worked him, swirling her tongue as hands ran along his hips.

“I’m right there,” he confessed, tapping her shoulder before fingers latched around her wrist. Billy tried to warn her again when her eyes lifted to his. She gave a sort of nod, massaging his skin to let him know it was alright. Lips opened when he let go, climax pumped in spurts along her tongue. Camille slowed to swallow in time before she could choke, lapping to finish him off. His muscles clenched and released rhythmically so she drew it out. Exquisitely. Billy gave a soft moan like honey. Camille came up on her knees, wiping her swelled lips on her hand. Splayed, he watched her tuck him back into his briefs before plopping next to him.

“Been waiting to return the favor,” she mused, chest steady with deep breaths while he came down from the high. While he came down from her. Blue eyes darkened with clouds. “Taste you, I mean.” Billy, unable to stand it, came up to hover and took her face in one hand. Gazes flickered intently. “You don’t have to kiss me after, I get it.” As if it was a challenge, he pressed her into the bed to kiss her as obscenely as he could. Tongue slipping along lips and between teeth. Spit trailed when they parted.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I think you like it,” Camille hushed, “just a little.”

“What happened to not dating boys you go to school with?” Billy came up so she followed, braced on her hands. Legs opened while he sat between them.

“Technically haven’t been able to date yet.”

“You know what I mean. Flings were banned too.” He countered. "Friends who go down on each other is great and all, but...you want more and so do I. So, I'll ask you again. What happened to no flings for queenie?"

“Guess the same thing happened with you moving on from one skirt to another,” she replied. “Haven’t even tried to continue the rounds. I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Harpy is dodging the question,” he touch his ear, tilting toward her so she caved.

“I can make exceptions.” She shifted to prop herself up on pillows. They observed each other.

“Just admit that I make you hot already, Camille.” Billy lingered, easing forward. “We played this shit for months. Just let go. Can’t stand it anymore. Admit you got off to me. More than once. Lift up your shirt.” The command surprised her. Slowly, she shifted fabric up, baring herself to his eyes. Billy bit his lip at the sight of her, pleased. Nipples pebbled against cooler air. “Take it off.”

“You take it off.” Camille hitched a gasp when hands eased up her sides. Cupped her breasts for good measure before the shirt slipped over her head. Fabric bunched around her shoulders.

“You thought about it, what type of fuck I’d be.” He hummed, fingertips edging down the soft skin of her inner thighs.

“Had a vague idea, you flaunt it well.” Camille licked her lips, teeth nipped at her bottom one so he came forward for a slow kiss. “Didn’t try hard to do it. Just happens when you’re…heated.” She gasped as he cupped her, offering a slow rub. Felt like he was out to claim something.

“Heated like this? Admit it, Camille,” he ghosted his mouth over hers, eyes direct to hold her attention. Palm on her still in a way that was possessive. “You sat next to me in class squirming because you knew…I’d make you quake. Yes or no?”

“Ye…s…” She grew timid so he advanced, lips closing around a nipple. Teeth tugged. Steady, he tormented the other bud. Tongue flicking up toward her neck.

“What was that?” His thumb circled her clit through fabric, slicking it in her arousal.

“Yes.” Camille tried not to melt but he was the sun and she’d flown far too close.

“Thought about how I’d push a dress up over your shoulders and make you moan. Don’t have to say anything,” Billy’s fingers slipped under fabric, “it’s already written all over you. You got wet with my cock in your mouth.” Camille was rocking to meet his hand, jaw clenched before she stole a kiss. His forehead touched hers when two digits slipped into her with ease. Billy hushed her when she whined, body clenching him. “You wondered what it would feel like buried here.”

“Billy,” came another plea. Her expression faltered, lost in euphoria. Lost in him. Drowning again in fire. He didn’t let up.

“Camille…” He drawled in a quiet, sing-song tone that always ruined her. His free hand came to rest by her hip when he slid closer. “Just say the words.” Billy pumped slowly, thumb teasing that stiff bundle of nerves. Heat swelled. Her flesh cried out for more. She caved.

“Yes…I…” Eyes closed and opened, lips parting to sigh. Billy had her. “Fuck it, I thought about you.”

“So, process of elimination,” he was rubbing her more intently now, “I make you…?”

“Hot.” Camille bit back a moan. “You make me hot. Okay…Ha…Happy? Fuck.” Her hips shifted back so he came with, thighs forcing hers apart when her back hit the wall.

“Camille,” he chided, lips along her jaw. “I can’t make you come if you squirm like that.” Her hands found his shoulders to cling. “You want to, don’t you?” Billy was savoring every bit of this.

“Yes,” she watched him slow and gave in, “I want to come.”

“All you gotta do is ask me,” he smiled against her mouth, "just ask and I'll give you what you want."

“Billy, fuck, make me come. I want it.” She recalibrated. “I want you. Let me, please.”

“Since you asked me so sweetly.” He bent to leave a mark on her neck that she’d have to see in the morning. Fingers pumped and curved inside her, knuckle deep. Camille shuddered against him, moving to fuck herself in turn. He felt her clit twitch, muscles clamping down against him. “Come.” He coaxed. “You’re right there, just let go. Let go, Camille.” He made her feel so good. Hazel eyes closed so he took her jaw again with one free hand. “No, you stay right here. Look at me.” Billy wanted to watch her come undone. She could only mouth the words, eyes widening when orgasm raced within her veins. She rocked unsteadily into him. Thighs quivering. “There you are.” He eased, keeping her in a state for as long as he could. Lips offering only encouragement. Pride. Fingers slipped out of her, holding fabric aside to see her soaked and twitching. “Fuck, Camille.” Beautiful. She slipped down so he eased her against the mattress to nestle into his chest. Fingers danced all along her back. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He felt her hitch to muffle a laugh into his chest.

“It is, isn’t it?” She tucked herself into him, contented. Billy craved a cigarette but couldn’t stand to slip from her to grab one. Instead, they breathed and traced shapes into skin. “Made the exception because I like you…dummy.” Billy shook his head, thoroughly entertained. “It’s different between us, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Feels like we’re on the same edge, terrifying as it might be.” Camille sighed, relaxing further into him. “But…it’s not lonely. Not anymore.” He could only nod, arm looped around her back. Her body breathed in tune with his. Lulling to the heartbeat pulsing under her ear.

“Go to sleep.” He murmured into dark hair at last. Camille didn’t feel she had a choice at this point. It tugged her away. Billy held her and soothed every little twitch that dared to disturb her mind. Up until it came for him next.

#LMAO the opening of this chp is my fav #billy hargrove #Billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fanfiction #mine #writing #without the lights #Camille Harper

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mlpdestinyverse · 5 years

Photo

“Gems and Flora”

Feat. Astral Dusk, Terra Rosa, Eventide Twister, Nova Spark

"S-she's really pretty..." At one point in time as a child, Astral Dusk's younger sister Eventide Twister was also brought over to visit the human world. She had a harder time adjusting to the other dimension compared to her older brother, but at the very least she got to meet Astral's friendly and pretty friend Terra Rosa. It didn't stop little Eve from hiding behind her brother or any objects in her field of vision every chance she got. That visit was Eve's first and last dimensional-hop. Like her father who was able to visit the human world once before with his wife, Eve prefers standing on all four of her hooves. And while Eve had developed an itty bitty kiddy crush on Terra, it was a short-lived one as the two never really saw each other as often as Astral and Terra did.

After the expulsion of (most) magic from the Mirrorverse, Princess Twilight tried to keep the Crystal Mirror's existence as obscure as possible, only allowing Sunset Shimmer (and eventually Astral Dusk) free passage between dimensions. But upon Terra Rosa's eager request, and after gaining Princess Twilight's approval, Terra was given permission to visit Equestria as a sort of one-week cultural field trip! After crossing dimensions, to both Astral and Terra's surprise, it turned out her pony form was that of a unicorn's! Astral would've been lying to himself if he had claimed he hadn't felt even a tinge of envy, being an aspiring researcher of gems and magical properties who couldn't wield magic himself. But Terra was having a blast with her new form, and well, that's what ended up really mattering to Astral. Meanwhile, it's preeetty uh...weird to enter a world where being naked is a norm.

While meeting her alternate dimensional daughter was surreal and rather mind-boggling for Princess Twilight, Terra Rosa was filled to the brim with excitement over meeting not only her pony-mom, but her technical half-dimensional brother, Nova Spark! Nova didn't...quite share the same sentiment, preferring to stare at Terra bug-eyed and fluffed up from behind his mother's leg. Though to be fair, having a strange energetic kid appear from another dimension and call your own mother 'mom' would be a little alarming. Just a little. Astral didn't really appreciate the distrusting glances the brat prince would shoot at his friend whenever she gushed and rambled at the three of them over the new sights around her. He especially didn't appreciate catching a soft mutter of "weirdo" from Nova when the younger colt thought no one was listening. It took everything in Astral not to trip the snobbish boy right then and there. Safe to say while Terra found her younger half-sibling adorable and huggable, Nova as a child waaasn't really about that. Weirdly enough, Astral found the boy avoiding her whenever she treaded his castle while simultaneously watching her from a distance around corners.

Terra came to visit Equestria at least two to three other times after her first initial visit! While her visits couldn't be as frequent as Astral's were to the Mirrorverse, she and Astral used the Equestrian-visits to the fullest! Showing Terra more of their world, giving her a few magic lessons thanks to Sunset, and of course...some collaborative research action~ Astral can't go one scientific project without wearing a lab coat. It's like a thinking cap, allowing him to channel his inner researcher whilemakinghimfeelreallycool,shh. Naturally, it only made sense if Terra joined in on the scientific channeling. The sessions mainly contained crazy idea pitching and aimless notes for the endless possibilities of combining flora and gems and magic. Whether they really got anywhere with their combined efforts was really up in the air, but at least they had fun~

Entering their teen years, both Astral and Terra were granted part-time jobs as junior counselors at the family camp, Camp Everfree! The job mainly consisted of assisting with activities and easing the burden of keeping track of a class of kids from Terra's father Timber Spruce and aunt Gloriosa Daisy. It was around this time that Terra managed to see old photos of Sunset Shimmer back when she and Terra's mother were high schoolers. Sunset's old leather wardrobe, as well as a childhood photo of Astral wearing a tiny leather jacket, had Terra demanding that Astral bring the leather back!! Immediately!! While Astral gave in (quietly swearing he'd only wear it indoors), Aunt Gloriosa kind of just...gave him her infamous disapproving squint. Terra always seemed pretty unaffected by "the squint", but for some reason Astral always found himself wanting to duck in a corner in the face of Gloriosa's authoritative side as head Camp Counselor.

If you haven't seen the glorious scene this is based on, please do oh my gosh. Astral wasn't sure how many hours had passed in the aftermath of the apparent war Terra had waged on the ring toss booth. Astral realized that day the lengths his friend would go for her fixations. He was left feeling weirdly exhausted, but Terra's bright beam and the hop to her step as she nuzzled her plush made it all rather worth it. Twilight and Sunset always got a kick out of seeing their kids getting along and working well together...to the utmost degree.

Welcome to "I might be feeling things for my best friend but I don't want to ruin what we have so I just won't acknowledge it and cherish things as they are" the unholy novel. Neither of them ever realized the other had the exact same thought.

#sunset shimmer #twilight sparkle #scitwi #eqg #mlp #mlp art #mlp oc #my little pony #Destinyverse #astral dusk #terra rosa #eventide twister #nova spark #story

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